
As for me, I was an American, but a jaded one. Aware of our less seemly history from our treatment of the Native Americans, to our Jim Crow laws, to the blatant antisemitism of the first half of the 20th century. I brought a certain skepticism to flag waving. I never was a pep rally kind of gal, finding that rah rah approach pretty hollow. And I view nationalism as dangerous, the petri dish out of which bigotry is perpetuated. "I belong, you don't" is its inherent message.
Still, despite my skepticism, I believed that we as a country had made progress and had become a better nation. I believed that our movement in areas of LGBTQ rights suggested the growth of the people of this country. I looked at former President Obama as an indication that we had moved into a new era of greater openness to differences. Our country felt pretty sturdy to me throughout all these changes. Unshakeable I thought.
And then came Charlottesville. I knew there was a dark underbelly, but it remained largely unseen, no longer acceptable in public. I watched as Trump stirred the pot, inciting racists and anti-Semites, opening the Pandora's box at the fault-line of civil society. With Charlottesville, I saw the unleashing of those demons.

For the first time I see the fragility of this country, as I watch the
floodwaters rise, hoping that the bulwarks of courts and our system of checks
and balances hold them at bay, hoping that the people of this nation have
clarity and purpose about who we aspire to be and in turn demand it from the politicians
who serve us. For the first time I feel a tenderness towards the beliefs which
underlie this nation, as if it is a delicate seedling that I want to nurture
and usher to safety.
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