Today rolled in at nearly 60 degrees, once considered “unseasonably warm” for January. Sunshine did not come with the warmth; a gray pall filters over the stark landscape, and a steady rainfall started in mid-morning. The weather matches my mood.
I know I have fallen silent. Voices are being raised all across the internet, and I am at a loss as to how I can contribute anything different. How I could offer up something other than another scream of rage, gasp of disbelief, scoff of disgust, cries of the Savior’s name in vain, blurted out as prayers to please make this insanity stop.
I have nothing. I have no answers. I am enraged, disgusted, horrified, and terrified - aghast, repulsed, and so terribly, terribly tired of it all.
I remember, in 2020, thinking of a renaissance. I remember wondering how our lives and culture would change as a result of the pandemic, remember having an underlying level of hope.
Back then, I used the word “ridiculous” often, in response to scrambled policies, differing opinions, which, over time, became “beyond ridiculous.” And then, as time passed, I actually began to struggle with words for “beyond ridiculous.” What is beyond “surreal”? What is beyond “satirous”? What is beyond “inconceivable”?
When satire (a literary and artistic genre that uses humor, irony, exaggeration, or ridicule to expose and criticize people's stupidity or vices) becomes reality, what word is used to describe the “new normal”?
“Dystopian” describes a grim, dehumanizing, and fearful imagined society, often featuring oppressive societal control (corporate, bureaucratic, technological, or ideological), loss of individuality, and a protagonist who questions the system.
The problem is, we’re not imagining this. This is really happening.
Late October of last year, I headed out in my new-to-me Subaru on my first vacation in five years. Coincidentally, it was the same day as the No Kings protests and the same day as Bridge Day. I remembered it was No Kings Day, and put a sign in my car window for my trek down Route 19 to I-64, and on my way.
I forgot it was Bridge Day - until I saw the detour recommendations as I took the Route 19 exit from I-79. I was planning my re-route in my mind: take 19 south through Summersville, then cut east on the backroads prior to reaching the New River Gorge Bridge, over through Richwood and Marlinton into Virginia.
The intersection at 79-19 is always a little congested. There’s a park-and-ride there, and space for truckers to pull over. I was not surprised to see a state police presence — detour and Bridge Day and all. But I was not expecting to see men in black tactical gear, ICE agents standing with hands on hips and guns in the background while WVSP directed traffic.
ICE agents in central West Virginia. Frankly, I never imagined I would encounter them. I mean, this is nowhere. My heart began to race, and I thought of the No Kings sign in my window. Would that be enough cause to pull me and my little blind dog over for questioning?
I was scared, and I was angry. I saw no need for their presence. Central West Virginia? Seriously? But our governor enrolled us in the 287(g) Program, an ICE program allowing trained state and local law enforcement (including State Police and National Guard) to perform immigration enforcement duties.
I later learned there were 18 arrests that day at that location.
I watched the murder of Renee Nicole Good in Minnesota once. Once was enough. Enough to remind me of that day last October when I found myself in the midst of an ongoing ICE operation.
What if it hadn’t been Kings Day? What if the protestors hadn’t been in Charleston and along Main Streets, WV/USA that day? What if they had been at the junction of 79 and 19 protesting the ICE operation? There would have been cars, and confusion, and chaos perhaps, just as there was in Minnesota.
A witness named Caitlin Callenson, who recorded a video of the incident, told reporters that agents gave Good conflicting orders: One agent told her to drive away while another told her to get out of her SUV, Callenson said.
She had just dropped off her 6-year-old son at school. Her dog was in the car with her, just as mine had been in the car with me.
I sometimes wonder if it will be our normal, everyday routines that will get us all killed in this dystopian society. Things like taking your kid to school or heading out on a vacation. We continue running on our hamster wheels chasing the American Dream, which is no longer a dream, in a country that is no longer American.
ICE murdered a mother, a poet, a Christian, in the street. They withheld medical treatment, and they made excuses. They blame her for it, and they kick and scatter her memorials.
What words can I offer for comfort? What words can make this stop? What words would make our elected officials uphold their oaths to The Constitution? What words can I write to end this dystopian national nightmare?
What words would enlighten those who refuse to see? Bring action to right these ongoing wrongs?
There are no words.
No words.