America the... Broken?

I struggle with where even to start. The words pile up inside my heart and behind my eyes, but all that comes out are shallow breaths and stinging tears that blur my vision.

In the bedroom, I stare at my phone—shocked, disbelieving—at what I’ve just watched. My ears ring with the echoes of screams from the video. What the hell has happened? Where are we right now? How is this happening?

From the other room, my daughter yells, asking if they can have lunch.

I snap back. It’s Saturday. I’m in my bedroom. It’s snowing—the first flakes of a huge winter storm barreling down on us. So why does it suddenly feel like an avalanche is burying us?

“Be right there,” I manage to choke out.

Focus. Pay attention. Take a breath. You need to get it together.

But a man was just killed—executed while lying face down on the street, held down by not one, but many men. Three shots maybe? Nine? It was too fast to count. And I watched it happen. I’ll never escape the images. The screams. What the f— did you just do??? Over and over and over.

This is their city.

This is our city.

This is America… isn’t it?

No matter what comes next, I trust the truth of my eyes and my ears.

I go into the kitchen. I make sandwiches. I wash grapes. I make sure they finish their milk. They ask me a dozen times when they can go outside, their excitement mounting.

Right. The snow.

Their smiles. Their happiness. Their obliviousness. These precious little humans I’ve created. They can’t know the world is this broken. I can’t let them know.

Later, more information comes. Details sprayed across our screens like water through a firehose. An American. A nurse. Thirty-seven years old—the same age as Renee Good.

Dear God, help us. This is horrifying.

“But he had a gun.”

Minnesota is open carry. He had a license. It’s his Second Amendment right.

“But it was a protest.”

But he didn’t brandish it. He never reached for it. The agents did that part.

“But… domestic terrorist… obstruction… radical.”

STOP. DAMN IT. STOP LYING. FOR GOD’S SAKE, JUST STOP.

Stop killing Americans.

Stop killing people.

Stop taking parents, children, families.

Stop—for the love of God—stop.

How can we watch this, day after day, then walk into the next room and make our kids’ sandwiches? How can we look them in the eye and tell them they’re safe when atrocities are happening on our city streets? And worse— people are applauding it. Defending it. Blaming the deceased for their own deaths.

What kind of sick American pride is that?

My grandfather fought in World War II. He saw the hells of war. He saw men lose limbs and lives. He witnessed—through his own eyes and ears—what we were fighting against: fascism, totalitarianism, tyranny in its most evil form. He was a prisoner of war. He was shot and wounded. He was noble and brave, and he believed in an America where we were safe and free from the evils he fought against.

The America he fought for is not the America we see on our screens.

I don’t want to live in that version of America.

Do not tell me, “If you don’t like it here, then leave.” I reject that. This is my America too. My homeland. My right to exist here is just as sacred as anyone else’s.

I’m simply demanding that we do better. That we demand justice and accountability—for everyone. Because we are human beings, and I am fucking tired of being used as political collateral.

We are being actively divided—by algorithms, narratives, and the people shouting the loudest. But the beauty of being human, with free will, is that we have our own eyes and our own ears. They cannot lie. They are annoyingly truthful, even when the truth feels blurred.

America is not a Republican or Democrat.

America is not a political bargaining chip.

America is not for sale to the highest bidder.

America is not a luxury reserved for the “deserving.”

America does not isolate herself from the world—because collaboration, progress, and peace, for the good of humankind, come from openness and good-faith partnership.

America is stronger than despotism.

America is guarded by her Constitution.

America is made up of the People.

She belongs to all of us—not just a privileged few.

I don’t know how to end this, other than to end it. There are still more words spilling from my fingers, but sometimes it’s better to finish the sentence and walk away from the screen.

They will still be there tomorrow.