The past few weeks have been… a lot. January 4 was my first day back working since taking four weeks off to recover from surgery. I was in the middle of taking on a variety of new clients when January 6 happened. I live in downtown D.C., about a 10 minute walk from the White House and a 15 minute walk from the Capitol. As with the other right-wing protests over the past few months, we have made sure that we had enough groceries and did not need to leave our apartment. This was due to both the violent nature of these pro-Trumps groups and their aggressive flouting of the city’s mask requirements. We expected to ride out the day’s protests the same we had the prior ones: getting playing music and getting through another day working from home. Though that day we decided to put on the news instead. While on the phone with clients, I watched in horror as hoards of Trump-supporting insurrectionists stormed the Capitol. I started to get calls and texts from relatives who knew that I lived near the crowds. Not long after, I received an emergency notification that the mayor had ordered a 6:00 PM curfew. Luckily, we were already prepared with ingredients to make dinner so we were able to cook for ourselves and bring a meal down to the concierge who suddenly found herself stuck without a way to get dinner. I got pictures of protestors the only ways that I could: from my balcony and from behind the doors to my building lobby.

 

As I watched the violence unfold on the news, I felt angry. Over the summer, I had watched the DC police and National Guard respond with force and violence to peaceful Black Lives Matter protestors who spoke up against the true epidemic of racial injustice. But when angry white men screamed and committed acts of violence over lies and conspiracy theories, I did not see the mass arrests, tear gas, rubber bullets, or low-flying helicopter that had buzzed above my balcony. I remember shouting at my TV: “Did they forget how to arrest people? Did they use up all their zip ties and tear gas over the summer?” When Black D.C. residents called attention to injustice, they were treated as dangerous. But it looked like the actually dangerous terrorists who prevented me from safely leaving my apartment were treated with kid gloves. 

 

I also thought about my clients past and present. So many people who I have worked with have told me that they came to America because it was a stable country and a country of laws. It’s embarrassing to think that people risk so much to come to this country and this is what we have. And when my clients apply for green cards and citizenship and I help them fill out the forms, I have to ask them if they ever plan on overthrowing the U.S. government by force. They look at my like I’m crazy. In fact, as I watched the mob storm the Capitol on TV, I was on the phone with a client conducting a screening for an immigration application. As part of the screening I asked her if she could be considered a threat to public safety or national security. She couldn’t believe that was a real question. 

 

The Sunday after the attack, I took an early evening walk to the Capitol. The first thing I noticed was the short fencing near the building. Even though most D.C. residents stayed away from the area during the attack, plenty came out after to stand up for our city’s values with signs. In normal times, we walk easily through the Capitol grounds and can get pretty close to the building itself. But I saw tall fencing closing off the entire compound to the public with the National Guard standing watch. At the circle in the parking lot, there was a memorial to Officer Sicknick, the Capitol Police Officer who was killed in the attack. 

 

Over the next few days, my boyfriend and I debate whether to stay in the city for the inauguration less than two weeks later. The downtown area appeared to return to it’s normal pandemic-era state, but we were still wary of what was to come. And there were always reminders of what had just happened, from the new fencing to the FBI ads at bus stops asking for information on the terrorists. But as travel restrictions downtown began to tighten and we heard of continued threats on the city starting the weekend before the Inauguration, we decided that we would feel safer if we left for a while. All the restrictions that are typically put in place the night before a regular inauguration were suddenly initiated nearly a full week before this one. Luckily, a cousin who lives 45 minutes into the suburbs offered to take us in. We left the city five days before the Inauguration. When my boyfriend drove the rental car to our apartment, a normally eight minute trip took forty-five minutes due to the traffic and road closures. In order to get to our building, he had to go through three checkpoints (two manned by DC police and one manned by the National Guard) and present his license to prove that he lived within the restricted zone. The garage attached to our building was blocked off by a concrete blockage. Once we finally got into the car, it was like a maze trying to leave downtown. So many roads were blocked off by concrete or fencing that we had to circle around trying to find the exit to the highway. We finally made it out and arrived safely at my cousin’s house. Our plan is to stay here at least until the day after the Inauguration. But we are unsure exactly when we can return. Access to downtown is now even more restricted than we we left (even pedestrians are subject to security checkpoints), so we will need to wait and see when we can finally go home to our adopted city that we love so much.