A Mirror to Our Fears: The Capitol Siege

By:Chris Pratt

(AP Photo/John Minchillo)

January 6th, 2021 feels like a lifetime ago and yesterday at the same time. As we watched the certification of the election with bated breath, rumors of a large-scale protest weighed on everyone’s mind. Some of us watched the certification live as busloads of Republican conservative voters started arriving, carrying American and Confederate flags to show their allegiance to the American ideal. Some of us were hoping for a small turnout, enough to render the potential for violence moot. Some of us, myself included, had a pit in our stomach, a gut feeling built on watching the galvanizing of alt-right communities like the Proud Boys, Oath Keepers, and 3%ers over the last four years.

Seeing the thin blue line flags and “Make America Great Again” hats gather in growing numbers, white men hiding their faces en masse, echoes of history flooded our spirit with what that meant. People hide their faces for a multitude of reasons. Whether it’s medical, like we saw on a large scale the year prior during the COVID pandemic, to remaining anonymous for self-protection, or to enact abhorrent violence. Seeing reflections of my body in the crowd, covering their faces, donning gear similar to what I would’ve worn while deployed, my spirit knew one thing: when white men cover their faces, self-projected “brave men,” there is only one framework we are running on at that point: violence, destruction, and death.

These men and women in this crowd were mourning a loss that largely we didn’t listen to. Not only were they mourning the loss of President Donald Trump to President-elect Joe Biden, they were mourning the loss of the identity we had been unknowingly chipping away at—an identity as “above human,” above the uncivilized, the marginalized, and the “woke.” They were mourning the large-scale activation against white supremacy we saw throughout the six years of the formation of “Black Lives Matter.” They were mourning the friends and family who cut them off for personal peace. They were hurt, and they were going to take it out the only way we are taught: uncontested, pure violence.

So we watched, in disbelief, as thousands began to organize around the Capitol building, ready to take out all their frustrations, pain, and loss on the one thing they viewed as maintaining their “goodness.” Fundamentally, we agree that America is run by corrupt, disgusting, vile individuals, holding power away from the common man, the blue-collar worker. With the fundamentalist idea, part of me understood that what we were seeing was right: take on the establishment, fight the corrupt government in place, take a stand for your community.

However, some of us more attuned to understanding nuance recognized the twist in the ideal. The twist that Donald Trump was reinforcing a culture of oppression and outright violence. Those of us that contested viewed violence as only being justified when you can’t change the mind of the oppressor, and that line of thinking was now being reflected back at us as we started to see the growing agitation on the Capitol steps. Thousands gathered now, in front of the halls of democracy, proudly standing by in support of the icon of white supremacy: the figurehead of the American ideal, the racist, the misogynist, the homophobic, the boisterous Donald Trump.

We started to see the agitation through shouts of “Take America Back.” People pushed against the security gates with growing force, a spark lit among the kindling that is the American Constitution. “We have a right to overthrow a tyrannical government,” weighed down on the police and security personnel barely holding a calm demeanor as thousands threatened them. The security gates gave under the physical embodiment of this right. As red hats, Stars and Bars, and Old Glory herself started to pour onto the entrance of democracy, a collective breath was held throughout the nation. “Surely this is going to stay peaceful,” we sheepishly hoped, as public defenders began to retreat into the safety of our nation’s Capitol.

We began to see our hopes dashed on the Capitol steps as windows and doors began to give way to the escalation of America. Police officers began to clear the building, while some stayed manning the doors, echoing a voice many are too familiar with: “Stop resisting or we’ll shoot,” an affirmation reinforcing the supporter of this oppressive statement. These people, now fully encapsulated in the call from their idol to “Fight Like Hell,” and they did. Watching Ashley Babbitt become the first casualty burned their soul, toughening them to now take the fight further. “We’re taking America back.”

As the Capitol became flooded, one thing was clear: a mirror had been erected. A visible reflection of ourselves in the face of dictatorships thought to be locked in history books. Unheard whispers of white supremacy locked in secure chat rooms, forums, and private messages were now staring us in the face, revitalized and ready to “Fight Like Hell.”