A Year of Living Dangerously in Trump’s America

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One year into the second Trump Presidency and America is now a very different place. It may superficially look the same from the outside. Many of us are able to go through the motions of our daily lives in the same ways as before. But, everything is changed on the inside.

America has become a place where it is no longer entirely safe to speak freely. Where criticizing the Government can get you into trouble, perhaps even cause you to be fired from your job, or deported. Where engaging in public protest can get you arrested. Where every day you wake up with a clenching stomach, wondering what new Government outrage has happened overnight.

Where every day, hordes of masked men roam communities, terrorize individuals, wantonly grab people off the streets, from their cars, or places of business, rough them up and throw them into detention, on no evidence whatsoever that they are guilty of any wrongdoing. All of this sanctioned by the Government authorities that are supposedly here to protect us.

I can’t believe I’m actually writing these words. I can’t believe I am actually living in a country where extra-judicial executions, such as happened with Renee Good in Minneapolis last week, killed by an ICE officer, can take place; where forced disappearances have become routine; where individuals with legal residency or citizenship status can be swept up in anti-immigration raids, if they happen to look foreign (translation – black or brown), or be hanging around in a place frequented by immigrants; where even young children can be snatched up and taken into detention.

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I can’t believe I’m living in a country where the authorities, instead of investigating the officer who killed Renee Good, are slandering her as a “domestic terrorist” and investigating her widow for potential obstruction of ICE agents.

Those of us privileged to live in majority white, suburban, or middle-class communities can pretend to ourselves that life is still normal and that we won’t be swept up in this madness. But, it’s a delusion.

Today, every interaction is overshadowed by the political climate.

Today, when I meet friends, we don’t just catch up with each other’s news. We always ask each other, with deliberate meaning,  “how are you doing?” – the subtext being, “how are you handling the stress caused by the latest Trump outrage?”

When I meet strangers, we dance delicately around the subject of Trump, to find out whether we are on the same political page or not, before opening up more substantively to each other.

With strangers, we use euphemisms to lead into a conversation about current events –  “with everything going on”, “in today’s crazy world”, and decode responses carefully to work out where we each stand.

This is how I always imagined people living in authoritarian countries communicated with each other, in lowered tones, or using veiled references, in case someone hostile is listening.

I no longer ask people of obviously foreign origin where they are from, how long they have lived in America or their current status. It’s better not to know.

I feel privately relieved and ashamed not to be a migrant, black or Hispanic myself. I imagine this is not dissimilar to how many Germans felt in the early 1930s, when they became uneasily aware that their Jewish neighbours were being harassed by Hitler’s brownshirts.

A year ago, I felt able to write articles or post on social media about current events without worrying about whether this might get me, or anyone associated with me, into trouble. Last summer, amidst the hounding of anyone who posted anything negative about the murdered political activist, Charlie Kirk, I deleted my Twitter account.

Today, I think twice before I post anything on social media.  Sometimes, I go back to erase critical posts about the Trump administration a few hours, or even days, after writing them, in a panic that I might have expressed myself too strongly, and come under investigation for anti-American behaviour.

A year ago, I felt able to travel in and out of the US without worrying about whether I would be allowed back in. Today, amidst reports that some in the Trump administration want to be able to denaturalize Americans who they feel no longer deserve citizenship, I feel anxious every time I pass through customs.

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Before my most recent entry into the country, I deleted all social media apps from my phone, just to be on the safe side.

My fear extends to my family, particularly my two sons, who are of non-white heritage. Will they accidentally get caught up in an ICE round up of “immigrant-looking people”? Should I start suggesting they always carry their passports around with them to be able to prove their identity – even though even proof of citizenship does not appear to stop ICE?  

A year ago, I never used to worry about attracting the attention of “the authorities.” In fact, I never thought about “the authorities” as a concept at all, let alone one to be afraid of. I always imagined something called “the authorities” being a problem for people living in dictatorships, like Iran or Venezuela, not those living in western democracies.

Now, many people try to keep a low profile. Friends who would normally be politically active, for example, by attending #NoKings or anti-ICE protests, have told me they no longer want to participate for fear of being identified by facial recognition technology, and getting into trouble at work. Acquaintances who work with administration officials bite their tongues. Many of us, consciously or not, are starting to self-censor.

In my neighbourhood, people regularly used to put up signs in their front yard with political slogans on them to express their support for particular causes – such as “Black Lives Matter” or “All Migrants Welcome.” Walking around this week, I noticed almost no-one has such signs any more.

A year ago, though everyone felt pinched by rises in the cost of living, most people of my acquaintance felt reasonably secure in their jobs, and confident they could meet their daily expenses, with some funds to spare for occasional meals out, or vacations. Today, many of my friends are cutting back. Several have lost their jobs due to the swingeing cuts imposed by Elon Musk’s DOGE in the early months of the administration. Others are finding business tailing off amidst the economic uncertainty. One neighbour, who works at a nursery school, told me it may need to close next year because not enough parents can afford the fees.

Two of my friends have had to tell their kids that they can no longer afford to pay for their tuition at expensive out-of-state universities, and must therefore limit their college selection to a cheaper in-state option.  

The last time I took an Uber, the driver turned out to be a former US diplomat of ambassadorial rank, who lost his job during the recent government shutdown.    

On public radio this week, I heard the account of a gay man who had married his female best friend, for the sole purpose of being able to register on her health plan, so that he could continue to cover the costs of his expensive medical treatment, which risked becoming unaffordable under Trump’s budget plan.

At my boys’ high school, in a prosperous suburb of Northern Virginia, I recently learned that dozens of children rely upon charity packages provided by volunteers at the school for their meals.  

A friend of mine who is a therapist told me that cases of anxiety and depression have soared at her practice since the re-election of Donald Trump, reaching a peak in early 2025. Her patients now describe becoming desensitized to the administration’s actions.

I can relate. A year ago, I used to watch in shocked disbelief as White House spokesperson, Karoline Leavitt, spouted outright lies from her podium. Now I shrug with numb resignation, no longer expecting truth from any current Government representative.

This is how I imagine it felt in the Soviet Union, where the entire system was built on lies, and citizens resigned themselves to being told black is white.

Now we too are being asked, as Orwell put it, to disbelieve the evidence of our own eyes, with the administration’s shocking misrepresentation of the circumstances surrounding Renee Good’s killing, captured in detail on video.

A year ago, despite the raging war in Ukraine, and other ongoing conflicts, I never felt my own personal security  was at risk. Today, with Trump’s crazy talk about seizing Greenland, almost sure to bring an end to NATO, and embolden Russia to continue its revanchist ambitions in Europe, and China in Asia, I have started to worry about a new world war. Could my sons, and other young men of my acquaintance, one day find themselves being conscripted, and marched off to battle?

In my worst imaginings, I worry about nuclear war breaking out . I worry that an unhinged man like Trump might quite like the idea of being the person who finally breaks the 80-year taboo on using nuclear weapons – especially if he feels he is coming to the end of his own mortal life.

What once seemed unthinkable a year ago, now seems possible.

The country which was famous for its strict adherence to the rule of law, is turning into a place where the law is whatever the President says it is, and the bureaucracy is increasingly subservient to his will, with many officials of good conscience choosing to resign or retire, given the futility of resistance. I imagine this is how it feels to live in China, a one-party state, where there is no independent judicial system, and rule is not “of the law” but “by law”.

The worst of it is that there seems no end in sight. For the past twelve months, those of us horrified by Trump’s lawless actions have been waiting for something to happen, or someone to do something, to stop him. We’ve been waiting for Congress to assert its rights. For the courts to rein in his administration.  For public outrage finally to reach a level which even he cannot ignore. For members of his own party to finally find the courage to put principle before party or self-interest.

We wait in vain.

Many elite organisations have simply decided not to resist at all.

It’s hard to expect ordinary Americans to fight back, when so many people in real positions of influence are deliberately choosing to look away, or actively collude.

Optimists cling to the hope that Democrats will take back control of the House in this year’s mid-term elections, and that this will allow the tide finally to turn against the administration. Optimists believe that even members of his own party will eventually break from Trump as his unpopularity grows. Optimists point to the occasional small signs of resistance from a handful of Republican Senators. Optimists believe that even if some institutions have crumbled, enough resilience remains in the rest of the system to outlast this administration.

Pessimists, amongst which I count myself, assume the elections will be rigged. Pessimists believe we should take seriously Trump’s loose talk about a third term. Pessimists point to the court system’s inability to enforce its rulings against the executive. Pessimists watch the increasingly violent actions of ICE and see a nascent paramilitary force being created that – whilst not large enough to quell the entire US population –is certainly large enough to intimidate and harass resistors, and, with Renee Good’s death, has proved itself willing to use lethal force.

Pessimists believe that even if Trump goes, Trumpism is here to stay, and that what has been destroyed will not easily be rebuilt.

Pessimists also point to the fact that anyone who stands up to Trump faces retribution – the most recent examples being the spurious charges brought against Fed Chairman Jerome Powell, who has failed to lower interest rates as fast as the President wanted, and the decision by Pete Hegseth’s so-called Department of War to dock Senator Mark Kelly’s retirement pay, because he had the temerity to post a video saying soldiers should not obey illegal orders.  

Optimists might point to the fact that the administration has so far failed in its efforts to convict former FBI Director James Comey or New York Attorney General Letitia James.

Pessimists like me note that these setbacks have not stopped the  administration from persisting with their efforts, imposing severe mental and financial pressure on them, and acting as a deterrent to anyone else minded to defy Trump.  

Pessimists like me are fed up with being told that we suffer from Trump Derangement Syndrome and are exaggerating the seriousness of events. We observe the trajectory of events, the real harm caused to tens of thousands of real people already, and believe that those who think “everything will be okay” are the ones in denial of reality.