I am an American. I wake up each morning to a country I barely recognize, gripped by a fear that no longer fades with the dawn. The streets aren’t filled with tanks, yet we are under siege.
The attack is quieter, but just as ruthless. It marches with every presidential executive order that tears at the foundations of our institutions. It appears in the paralyzing silence of those who should resist but dare not, and, most alarmingly, through court rulings that are being ignored with impunity.
Vice-President JD Vance recently made it ominously clear: Donald Trump’s administration no longer considers judicial rulings binding—they are merely suggestions, to be followed when they conform to his wishes and ignored when they do not. And so, one by one, court decisions are cast aside, judges’ orders disregarded, the very concept of legal constraint eroding before our eyes. The rule of law, once the bedrock of our democracy, is now a hollow shell, honoured in words but discarded in practice.
What happens when a president is no longer constrained by the courts? When laws are enforced selectively, dictated by obedience rather than justice? We are no longer teetering on the edge of authoritarianism. We are already in a free fall.
America has been hijacked by a man who thrives on chaos, and those in power – incapacitated by his wrath – have chosen submission over honour or conscience.
But it is not laws or institutions that hold the system in place – it is terror.
A Nation Held Hostage by Fear
Trump rules through tyrannical intimidation, wielding fear with surgical precision. He does not need to imprison his political opponents – he lets his MAGA followers do it for him, through harassment, threats, and violence.
Republican lawmakers, once dependably vocal critics, now nod along in forced allegiance. They witnessed what happened to those who dared to hold Trump accountable—those who sought to have him charged and convicted for inciting an insurrection. Their homes were swatted. Their families targeted. Some were ousted from office. Others received death threats so detailed, so vile, they knew the danger was real…and imminent.
So now, they are being coerced to confirm his most dangerous and unqualified cabinet members—not because they believe in these nominees, but because they are afraid what will happen if they don’t.
Trump’s decision to pardon and release the January 6 insurrectionists was not an act correcting an injustice—it was a declaration of war. These criminals, once locked behind bars for attempting to overthrow democracy, now walk free, emboldened, with the president’s blessing. They are not “patriots” as Trump has brazenly called them. They are foot soldiers, unleashed to remind Americans that unyielding loyalty is demanded, and dissent is punished.
The message is clear: Obey, or suffer the consequences.
Project 2025: The Death of Democracy
Trump feigned ignorance of Project 2025, the dystopian blueprint for his second term. But in the weeks following his January 20 inauguration, it has become a chilling reality. This is not a policy agenda. It is a coup in slow motion—a calculated dismantling of democracy, brick by brick.
Civil rights laws? Eroding by the day.
Protections for women, immigrants, LGBTQ+ Americans? Unravelling under his administration.
Government agencies that once served the people? Gutted and handed to “loyalists.”
Nowhere is this more evident than in Trump’s cabinet—a rogue’s gallery of extremists and conspiracy theorists—devoid of integrity, chosen not for their competence, but for their fealty
Senate Democrats have made their opposition clear, refusing to endorse nominees whose incompetence, corruption, and radicalism pose an undeniable threat to the country. They recognize what is at stake. But Senate Republicans, driven by fear, refuse to defy Trump. One by one, they are falling in line, rubber-stamping these confirmations, despite their sworn oath to the constitution and to their own principles.
- Pete Hegseth, a man with no military strategy experience, a history of alcoholism, and multiple accusations of sexual abuse, now controls the world’s most powerful military. His confirmation should have been unthinkable. Instead, Republican senators, too afraid to vote against him, ensured his appointment.
- Russ Vought, the architect of Project 2025, now oversees domestic policy. He has made his intentions clear: to decimate every essential program that helps low-income Americans—including Medicaid, VA benefits, and Head Start, which provides critical healthcare, nutrition, and early education for children under five. Democrats have condemned his nomination as a death sentence for millions, but Republicans, unwilling to challenge Trump, confirmed him anyway.
- Kash Patel, a conspiracy theorist who still insists Trump won in 2020, will likely be handed the FBI—an institution he once called corrupt to the core. He was paid $25,000 to appear in a Russian propaganda video denouncing the very institution he now seeks to lead. His confirmation in the Senate is approaching, and Republican lawmakers, fearing retribution, are making no effort to stop it.
- Tulsi Gabbard, whose sympathies have long aligned with authoritarian regimes, has been nominated for Director of National Intelligence, entrusted with safeguarding national security. Democrats have called her appointment reckless. Republicans will confirm her regardless.
- RFK Jr., an anti-science zealot and long-time conspiracy theorist, will oversee public health. With his confirmation all but certain, the nation’s healthcare system is in the hands of a man who has spent his career undermining it.
Holding On to Joy: The Fuel for Resistance
A sense of foreboding awakens us. It is the undeniable signal that something is deeply, profoundly wrong. And when fear is shared—when we realize we are not alone in our terror—it can cease to be paralyzing. It can become positively galvanizing. It can be righteous anger.
We have seen this before. Fear has driven every great struggle for equality in history. The abolitionists, the suffragettes, the civil rights leaders—all of them were afraid. But they did not let that fear consume them. They let it inspire them.
And now, we must do the same.
Because if fear can silence, it can also be a battle cry.
If it can isolate, it can also unite.
If it can paralyze, it can also ignite a movement—one that is building, surging, unstoppable.
Despite the overwhelming dread and oppression, we are refusing to stay silent. Across the country, we are calling our representatives, flooding congressional offices with emails and phone calls, demanding justice. We are working tirelessly to combat disinformation—sharing truth, exposing lies, ensuring that propaganda does not go unchallenged.
And in the streets, we are rising—by the thousands—marching, chanting, demanding to be heard. It is a reminder to those in power that we will not go quietly.
I will never stop fighting for this country, for my daughter, for my grandchildren, and for every generation that follows. But I’ve also come to understand that in order to keep going, I need to nourish my spirit and hold on to the joy that sustains me. Because if I lose my ability to find joy, to feel hope, then what am I even fighting for?
So I hold on to the smallest moments.
Like when my four-year-old granddaughter stood beside me in the bathroom as I inserted my contact lenses. I asked her if she wouldn’t rather head downstairs to play. “No, I want to stay here so that we can spend more time together,” she said simply, her little face so earnest, so wise.
Or the sight of my husband walking into my home office, head-to-toe in flour, beaming with pride as he handed me a plate of delicious homemade pasta he’d made for the first time.
I find it in music—sitting in the audience at the Boston Pops’ holiday concert, their festive songs filling the air with magic, reminding me that beauty still exists, even in the bleakest hours.
These moments are not distractions. They are lifelines.
Yes, I am afraid. But fear is not the absence of courage—it is the fire that forges it. As long as I have breath, I will stand. I will resist. I will fight. The future has not yet been written—and I will not allow Donald Trump to dictate my story, nor let it be one ruled by relentless fear.
