"You'll have to forgive me. I'm from the Divided States of America."

My daughter just said this to me, and I can't decide if I should laugh or cry.

This afternoon, my daughter and I were sitting quietly on a bench next to a little pond in Canada. We were watching ducks glide across the water when a man approached us with a friendly wave. He started talking about the Canadian geese that often cross right in front of where we were sitting.

"There are a few families with goslings," he said. "They walk them across the street from over there, take them to the pond, let them swim, and then walk them back home. You might see them if you’re lucky."

He told us how the adults protect the little ones, how they wait for cars to stop, how everyone here knows to be patient and give them space. Just a stranger, talking about geese, sharing something kind and ordinary.

But as he walked away, I noticed my daughter had looked a little frozen during the interaction. Her expression was tight, uncertain. I asked, “What’s wrong?”

She said, “I didn’t know what to say.”

I asked why.

She said, “Because he was wearing a red hat. And for a second I thought... oh no, he’s going to say something mean.”

Then she paused and laughed and said, “And then I remembered that I’m in Canada. And it was just a red Canadian hat with a maple leaf on it.”

We both laughed at that.

Then she said, “You’ll have to forgive me. I’m from the Divided States of America.”

And I've been going between laughing and feeling sadness ever since this happened.

A Country Where a Hat Means Danger

In America, a red hat is no longer just a hat. It's a warning. It’s a symbol loaded with fear, threat, and division.

A stranger wearing one doesn’t get the benefit of the doubt; he's earned the concern we feel. He doesn’t get to just talk about birds.

Because where we come from, there’s a risk he’s about to say something cruel about immigrants. Or women. Or climate change. Or trans kids. Or journalists. Or teachers. Or you.

We live in a country where you have to brace yourself for the next attack. Where even a child learns to scan a hat and calculate safety.

That’s not freedom. That’s trauma.

Where the Sidewalk Ends

Canada isn’t perfect. No country is. But when my daughter realized she didn’t have to fear a stranger with a red hat, something in her relaxed. Her shoulders dropped. Her voice softened.

She was reminded of something most Americans have forgotten: people are supposed to be safe. Conversations with strangers should not feel like a standoff. You shouldn’t have to decode someone’s politics before you can listen to them talk about geese.

But we don’t live in that country anymore. Not really. Not today.

We live in a place where governors criminalize healthcare. The Supreme Court justices gut environmental protections and hand over more power to corporations. Where politicians silence teachers and defend guns over children, while telling us they’re “pro-life.”

And half the country cheers them on.

“Divided” Doesn’t Go Far Enough

Let’s be honest. We’re not just divided. We’re living in parallel realities.

In one America, my daughter is taught empathy, science, and civic responsibility. In the other, she’d be handed propaganda, religious extremism, and a voucher for a school that doesn’t have to tell the truth.

In one America, we care for refugees and respect bodily autonomy. In the other, they chase buses full of migrants and pass laws forcing girls to give birth.

In one America, the red hat is a threat. In the other, it’s a badge of loyalty, grievance, and control.

Symbols We Fear, Symbols We Lost

The red hat isn’t alone. In today’s America, we fear our own flag.

The American flag, once a symbol of unity, has been claimed by a movement rooted in exclusion. Now people see it and wonder, "Is this house safe for me?"

We see crosses and worry they mean political dominance instead of spiritual peace. We see eagles and question if they're on a militia patch. We see pick-up trucks with thin blue line decals and worry if they mean "back the badge" or "be afraid."

Symbols are supposed to bring us together. But in the Divided States of America, they've become warnings.

What Our Children Have Learned to Fear

The saddest part? Our kids know all of this. My daughter didn't hesitate when she saw the hat. Her instinct kicked in. She thought danger before she thought kindness.

She has grown up watching adults yell at school board meetings. She has seen news stories about healthcare workers at hospitals getting death threats when asking visitors to wear a mask during a pandemic. She has heard classmates repeat conspiracies they learned from YouTube shorts. She knows which states to avoid when she grows up.

When children carry political trauma before they even hit puberty, something is deeply wrong. They don't get to grow up curious. They grow up cautious. They don't get to ask questions. They scan for harm.

The Geography of Safety

We like to think America is a safe country. But the truth is, safety depends on your zip code. On your skin color. On your religion. On your gender. On your pronouns. On your bumper sticker.

I know people who won't take highway routes through certain towns. I know families who won't vacation in certain states. I know teachers who don't decorate their classrooms anymore. I know moms who carry burner phones when they protest.

What does it mean when a country has to plan its freedom like a security drill?

Small Talk Is Political Now

The man in Canada was just talking about geese. But in the U.S., we hold our breath.

Will this stranger bring up politics? Will they ask where you stand on guns, abortion, trans rights, and vaccines? Will they drop a comment about "those people" and expect you to nod?

We used to make small talk about the weather. Now we make calculations.

The kindness we once took for granted now feels like a gamble.

The American Accent of Aggression

Even the way we talk has changed. There's a hostility baked into our national conversation.

"I'm just saying what I think."

"You people are ruining this country."

"Don't like it? Leave."

We've created a tone where belligerence is seen as authenticity. Where cruelty is a virtue. Where anyone who pauses to consider someone else's point of view is labeled weak.

The volume is high. The empathy is low. And the damage is everywhere.

Red State, Blue State, No Escape

We pretend America is split cleanly in two. But it's messier than that.

There are liberal kids growing up in conservative households, hiding their truth. There are MAGA school boards governing in blue counties, forcing far-right policies into progressive communities. There are people quietly conforming to survive in churches, workplaces, and families.

No one gets to opt out of this divide. It seeps into grocery store conversations, local elections, HOA meetings, and yes, duck ponds.

Flight and Fight

Some people leave. Some stay and hide. Others stay and fight.

There’s an emotional migration happening in America. Blue voters are moving to blue states. LGBTQ families are leaving Florida and Texas. College students are picking schools based on politics, not academics.

Others can’t leave, or won’t. They stay and shrink. Or stay and resist. Or stay and hope something breaks the fever.

But this constant calculation is exhausting. And a country where people live in fear of each other is not a free country.

Who Gets to Be "Just a Person?"

That man with the red hat was just a person. But we didn’t know that.

Because in today’s America, not everyone gets the benefit of the doubt. A Muslim woman wearing a hijab isn’t "just a mom." A Black man in a hoodie isn’t "just a neighbor." A trans teen isn’t "just a student."

And if you're a woman with an opinion? Not just a citizen. You're a target.

So we scan. We flinch. We prepare.

The Real Red Scare

We used to fear communism. Now the red hat means something else.

It means cruelty wrapped in nostalgia. It means policy based on resentment. It means loyalty to a man, not the Constitution.

"Make America Great Again" is not about greatness. It's about control. It's about returning to a time when fewer people had rights. It's about punishing progress.

So yes, the red hat scares people. And it should.

And Yet

There is still something deeply human inside all of us that wants to tell a stranger about geese.

We are not broken beyond repair. We are just exhausted, guarded, and waiting to exhale.

But that version of us, the kind one, the hopeful one, is still there.

It's watching the pond. It's listening closely. It's remembering what it feels like not to be afraid.

It's just waiting for the hat to be... just a hat again.

I know this post was a bit different than my normal ones. I'm human too, and sometimes my mom hat shows up first.

See you all tomorrow and keep up the good fight. We are in this together!
- Heather

PS: This is my first post with a paid subscriber section. Below the paywall, I'm sharing some more personal reflections from our time in Canada, a few photos from our trip, and some news headlines that have been weighing on me lately. My main posts will always remain free, but having a paid section allows me to share more intimate moments and thoughts without worrying as much about harassment. If you'd like to support my work and get these deeper glimpses, consider upgrading to a paid subscription.