The Accelerating Pace Of Authoritarianism

and other musings from a summer of unplanned travel.

I know if you follow me, this may not sound real, or even made up, but I really planned on doing little traveling this summer. The dangers for a Black trans person traveling by themselves seemed, for once, to outweigh my need to see all of you in your summer glory. 

This, of course, plays out every 5 minutes all summer at the ultimate social experiment petri dish provided by most states, the rest stop. 

Kids/pets packed up tight in a car that hasn’t seen this many people in it since you did some carpooling before COVID. Stressed drivers trying to play it cool while shaking off road hypnosis, a million snacks flying out of someone's purse, and maybe a kid who had no idea what they signed up for, looking desperately for Wifi. 

Whether it's a group of heads or rainbows piling out of a van, or the trucker who is much more likely black, brown, or immigrant to this nation, the rest stop, or at least it used to be, was something that felt like a great equalizer of class, wealth, or station. Even at times, race, and the invisible cultural dividers that seem to drive everything subconsciously lately can be set aside in this weird liminal space you only have seconds to take in as you rush to the bathroom, let out the dog who is despersate for a lil walk, or you help the kid who might explode if you don’t help them get right to the stall. 

Then, after a brief biobreak, you come out, slow down, and take it all in. Depending on how much you travel, you will either see a bunch of people really different than you, in dress, manner, attitude, sometimes language, and if you travel as much as me it will strike you again how everyone has so much more in common than this country will ever allow them to know, but you take a moment to take it all in. 

That's what this post is like. It's that moment where I am just taking a deep breath, sharing what I see, then moving on.

I have mostly not written about the goings on of this current administration of Donald J Trump, the 47th, and determined to be the last,  President elected by the majority of Americans, well, white American citizens of these not so United States. Not because they are not important, they are, as a historian, and moments like this are critical to observe, and some would argue, to write about. To record. This isn’t the ancient view of history, or history crafting, which less consumed the moment like a voracious technological whale swallowing up the here and now in raw, uncut form and flattening all the little micro stories, the collective story of us, and swallowing it whole. Regurgitating it into a palatable form. A supra-narrative. 

Historians just a few hundred years ago preferred to savor their thoughts, reasoning, and crafting of narratives that we would later take to calling history. Often with decades of distance. This, I believe, is because they knew that history is just the collective story of us, and we take a long time to really learn and reflect collectively as humanity in societies. It’s more about listening than declaring, and feeling than seeing. 

Take my little story in the courses of the tides, undertows, and currents on the river of history as we wind the twists and turns into our 250th year of existence. People have no idea that I am probably at one of the lowest times of my life professionally, and have had to crash with friends again while I figure out housing. How a new subscriber to this newsletter has been the difference between eating and not eating well for the day. 

But back to 250 years, this increment of time is of note since Eurocentric scholars, and those who believe that the “western” perspective supersedes all others, have noted that societies whose roots are found in Europe's past tend to either teeter or start the long fall if they have reached the level of empire at 250 years. 

Is America an empire? Well, if we look at the definition at Merriam-Webster's, it would be hard to argue we aren’t. 

Empire. Noun. A major political unit having a territory of great extent or a number of territories or peoples under a single sovereign authority

especially: one having an emperor as chief of state

(2)

: the territory of such a political unit

b

: something resembling a political empire

especially: an extensive territory or enterprise under single domination or control. 

You can argue with yourself, not me, about it. I would only add to the generation that followed the founders, the term “American Empire” would have meant from California to Philadelphia, and they never would have even imagined the territory of Tejas becoming Texas, or the “taming” of so-called “indian country.” 

This genocidal act of the removal of Indigenous peoples, nations, and confederations, the ability to fight off the French and Spanish empires while still simultaneously fending off the British Navy, Cuba Libre, and the Haitian revolution seemed beyond the reach of the nascent country. They could never have dreamed of a post-Marshall plan United States with bases and the ability to strike anywhere in the world within 24 hours, and a sword of Damoscelcles hanging over our former rulers in Europe. 

I think that’s what makes the years since 2016 so stunning that all of this and more is being undone so quickly, so suddenly, and so permanently. I think what the President, and frankly, most American citizens of the United States, don’t seem to know is that no empire has ever held the continental United States and the lower 48th by force.

I wish him, his cronies, and his supporters good luck. Because they are going to need it. I could tell you the story of Tecumsa, Sitting Bull, Kandoriak, François Mackandal, Nat Turner, the Molly McGuires, Mother Jones, Sid Hatfield or others. 

I could tell you about 250 years of organized, deeply spiritual, and often armed resistance that helped the United States learn that it is ruled by the consent of the governed. 

I have been at a lot of rest stops this summer. Passing families, worried faces, oblivious faces, and beautiful ones. Seeing other queer folk like me wandering around. I have seen people sneer at my makeup, had dudes follow me all the way to the urinal, peek over and make sure I had a cock,  and I had people stop and chat and pray. Wish me a great day, and a cautionary after looking me up and down: be safe. 

I can’t help but think how many people I have been pleading with to get basic medic training, community defense training, to set up mutual aid networks, to prepare, to think long term about their future, and to take this now outrageous threat seriously are going to get hurt? How many are going to have their lives altered forever by the impending state violence and trauma? I wonder how prepared governors, active duty military, and others are for the armed forces of the United States fulfilling roles way outside their MOS? I wonder who will be the first to pay for this mismatch in training and disrespect of our troops, a sweet child like Trayvon, or perhaps a mother minding her own like Marsha P? I wonder if anyone will bring up that this is a clear violation of the Tenth Amendment of the U.S. Constitution, more than enough grounds for secession? I wonder what it will take for us to stand up for ourselves? 

Want to know the most insane part? The most vulnerable I have ever been since I was 11, and I’m worried about y’all. 

I will be around here again and posting. Thank you for your patience, as I, too, enjoyed my summer. Even with the housing insecurity and lack of full-time work currently, I enjoyed it because if things keep accelerating at the pace they did this last weekend, I won't be traveling 2026. I assume, like every other person of good conscience, to be engaged in pushing back this slow creeping coup, and to be protecting my family and friends with everything I've got by next summer. 

Updates, Travelers Tarot, and new book sample chapters in the weeks to come. 

Written in love and liberation

rev/awo lenny duncan ( they/them)