We've All Awakened to Discover We Don't Live in the World We Thought We Did

Coming to terms with the mass betrayal of a collective dream

Note: This article was my reflection piece in the wake of the 2024 election. I wanted to revisit it, because I’m still learning how to find my way in this new, terrible reality.

I expect we’ve all experienced a moment of betrayal. Perhaps it was a friend, a family member, or a romantic relationship. There’s a sense of time slowing down accompanied by an internal wrenching. It’s as though the floor shifts beneath your feet and you have to find your balance again.

You might clench your fists and close your eyes. You might try to resist. But once the revelation happens the old reality is gone and you’ll never get it back. You’ve learned something. You’ve become bigger. You’ve matured.

You lament the loss of innocence because there’s comfort in the familiar, even when the familiar is wrong.

Much of our time feels as if it is spent in a carnival fun house. The floor tilts. You run into mirrors. You try to navigate in total darkness. In something as insignificant as a single step, you can find light and stability and orientation.

But that step can be disconcerting.

Last night I experienced a terrible wrenching sensation. I couldn’t sleep. I spent most of the night thinking myself a fool.

Looking back, there were many people who warned me of my error. Such was my certainty that I’d gone all in on my effort to achieve the desired result. I deluded myself into thinking that I might have an influence on the bigger picture.

Today I feel chastened, and hopefully a little wiser. In the depths of my despair, a thought came to me that provided peace. I remembered that I still have the power to help those around me.

A few days ago I reflected on how my wife and I work to equip the kids at the local school district with jackets and socks and hats. I review products, and my wife has given me a grocery list of items to procure.

She gives these things to the kids and their faces light up. I don’t see it, except when my wife tells me at the end of her day.

Her face brightens when she shares the story, and I expect she looks much the same as her students.

I’ve come to believe that we can be too focused on the bigger picture. We want people to behave a certain way, but we simply lack the power to influence them. When things do not go our way, we feel tempted to fall into despair. Instead, we should recognize that we were acting on a false pretense.

We can’t control other people.

In fact, we only have limited power over ourselves. But we do not relinquish that power, even when our plans do not turn out as we might have hoped.

A few months back, I received a phone call from activist and writer Loretta Ross. She told me that she’d spent a considerable amount of time interviewing members of hate groups. When I talked to her, I felt a sense of compassion and kindness emanating from the phone. There was even something about her email that drew me to her.

I’ve spent a considerable amount of time reflecting on that conversation. I felt the same thing when I sat down for a discussion on racism with Will Fullwood. I felt in both of them a sense of spiritual peace that I have not attained.

I think, perhaps, I might have taken a step in the right direction last night.

In this life, we have to understand that there are things we can influence, and things we can only observe. My hope is that all human beings are possessed by an impulse to do good, but we can become so obsessed with this objective that our labors become corrupted to the point of inflicting damage.

Once again, we’re in the hall of mirrors with the tilted floor. You have to find your footing before you can act. If not, you’re simply lashing out at the darkness.

I feel differently today than I did in 2016 or 2020. I feel more of a resigned acceptance than before. I don’t feel such a sense of urgency to make some sort of movement in response. Instead, I’m content to sit still and let this new perspective of reality settle over me.

I’m hopeful that if I’m patient, some actionable truth might be revealed.

Over the last few years, I’ve wrestled with a sense of anger that began when our community lost a child. It has been as if I’ve had to deal with a white hot kernel of rage that sat simmering in the back of my mind. I didn’t trust myself with it, because I knew I could become triggered and respond with anger.

But now it feels as if that button has been pushed one too many times. Perhaps some part of me has decided to not be a marionette, jumping at the whim of another. Even when poked with a greasy thumb, the button remains dormant and cool.

This change is new. It could just be for today. Or, it could be forever. We’ll see.

I’ve never had the experience of entering a room to find a partner tangled in the embrace of another. I’ve never had that kind of moment. But I have been disoriented, and it feels as if a switch is flipped.

It hurts at first, but you quickly adapt.

Then you’re afforded the opportunity to gaze upon your surroundings with new understanding. You discard your illusions, pretty as they might be. You gain insight into your reality. Then, and only then, can you act with confidence, certain of your ability to help rather than hinder.

Even so, I find myself moving slowly.

Might I now be able to sit across a desk from a man or woman who claims to hate my children for the color of their skin? Could I listen to that person without tears coming to my eyes? I think that maybe I could.

Those people inhabit the world, and we have to find a way to get through to them.

Prior to this awakening, I used to think it was a tragedy if I engaged in conversation but failed to change anyone’s mind. Now, I feel as if I should take it as a victory simply for having my say.

That will be my mode of operation until the next revelation. I’m yet uncomfortable with the way cruelty is embraced in my world. But perhaps I now feel more equipped to make lasting changes for the better.

The dream has ended, long live the dream!