All Americans Know January 6th Was An Insurrection. The Decent, Patriotic Ones Care.
We all saw it.
On January 6th, 2021, many of us watched it in disbelief in real time: the almost incomprehensible sight of thousands of people breaching the very seat of our Government: smashing windows, breaking through doors, setting off tear gas canisters, crushing outnumbered and overmatched Capitol police, and parading unimpeded through the chambers of Congress.
As the chaos unfolded, the questions kept running through the heads of incredulous news anchors and millions of good people:
“How is this happening?”
“Why isn’t anyone stopping them?”
“Where the hell is the National Guard?”
“Why won’t Trump say something?”
With each passing minute, it became increasingly difficult to reconcile in our minds how one of the most secure sites in America could have been so easily and quickly overtaken. The scenes of scores of people in body armor and gas masks, desecrating monuments, rooting through offices, and crushing police officers were shocking and sickening.
Yet, as disturbing as the initial images were, what soon became apparent is that this was not some spontaneous display of misplaced outrage produced in a random moment; this was a thoroughly planned attack on our nation, conceived, coordinated, and aided by right-wing media members, Republicans in Congress, and by a sitting president.
This unthinkable act of violence was not only an inside job, but one whose genesis came from the very highest level of our public servants and brought us to within an an onion-skin of complete collapse. We were literally a handful of courageous officers, a few quick-thinking politicians, and one or two fortuitous seconds from an overturned election, an installed dictator, and an unrecognizable America.
But perhaps even more tragic than the event itself has been the response to that day from people we know and love: an infuriating multiple choice of gaslighting, denial, and complete silence.
The dissonance in them since that day has been profound:
Blue Lives suddenly no longer mattered.
The Law and Order folks now had no use for either.
The God and Country crowd was seemingly able to easily discard both.
And in the days and months and years since, all their flag-waving histrionics, hand-wringing anthem outrage, and border-defending bravado ended up being nothing but fake news; all that America First chest-bumping and God Bless America showy piety they’ve peddled for four years proved purely ornamental.
Because when the smoke dissipated, and the arrests began, and the phone records surfaced, and the sheer scope and intent of this day were revealed, they didn’t give a damn.
In fact, if they’re honest, millions of our family members, friends, neighbors, and co-workers are likely only truly upset that the attack was not fully successful. Then, they would not have had to reckon with the evidence or hear the testimony or be accountable for any of this, because their candidate and their party would be controlling the narrative, silencing dissension, and preventing justice. And they would be winning.
It would be a small comfort to dismiss this all as mass ignorance: to tell ourselves the story that Republican voters (especially those we know and love) have been duped by complicit media and corrupt politicians who’ve leveraged their fears, disabled their critical thinking skills, and rendered them unaware of all that unfolded on that day in January—but we would be lying to ourselves.
They know.
Outside of a small percentage of the most deluded and unstable among us, they all know the reality of that day five years ago. They saw it, too. They could read the names on the flags surrounding dying officers, hear the familiar Fox News rhetoric being screamed through the halls of Congress, and they could not avoid the Make America Great Again signaling saturating everything. They know who was responsible for this, what their intentions were, and what the stakes were to our nation. That is precisely why they have spent a year denying, defending, justifying, or ignoring it: they wanted it, and that has struck the most vicious blow to our great national fracture, one that we may not be able to recover from.
The deepest wound is knowing that they know, and that it doesn’t matter.
January 6th was a coordinated attempt to kidnap members of Congress, overturn a free and fair election by the people, and install a president whose criminality is simply unprecedented and whose involvement was complete.
It was a threat to our sovereignty.
It was a rejection of our Constitution.
It was antithetical to the teachings of Jesus.
It was the opposite of patriotism.
It was a historic act of treason.
It was a vicious attack on democracy.
It was a partisan act of domestic terrorism.
It was a violent insurrection.
All Americans know this.
All of them.
Only patriotic, decent ones actually care.



I remember believing that day would draw a line.
Not heal us. Not restore anything we’d already lost. Just draw a line so clear that no one could cross it and still pretend they didn’t know what they were doing. I thought January 6 would force recognition, that the sheer visibility of it would collapse the stories we were telling ourselves about who we were.
I was wrong.
What’s settled in since isn’t just shock or anger, but something colder and harder to shake. The realization that knowledge was never the problem. The footage wasn’t hidden. The facts weren’t unclear. The danger wasn’t abstract. Many people saw exactly what we saw.
And then they chose to live with it.
That’s the part that still stops me. Not the violence itself, as horrifying as it was, but the calm decision by so many that it was acceptable. That whatever rules had been broken, whatever lines had been crossed, were worth it if the outcome bent in their favor.
That isn’t ignorance. That’s consent.
I think a lot of us held onto the belief that there was still a shared floor beneath our disagreements. That there were limits we wouldn’t cross, no matter how divided we became. January 6 revealed how fragile that belief was. What followed revealed how many people were already living without it.
There’s a particular loneliness that comes with that recognition. You keep naming law while others are naming loyalty. You keep pointing to principle while others are counting votes and judges and power. You keep assuming shame will arrive, only to learn it’s been dismissed as unnecessary.
That changes how you hear familiar words.
Patriotism becomes performance. Faith becomes costume. Order becomes something enforced downward, never inward. And suddenly you realize you aren’t arguing from different opinions, but from different moral maps altogether
I wish I could say this realization brings clarity alone. It also brings grief. Because it means we can’t console ourselves with the idea that people were fooled, or misled, or simply unaware. Many weren’t. They understood the stakes well enough.
They just decided those stakes were acceptable.
That’s a harder truth to carry, and it leaves fewer comforting explanations behind.
What remains, for those of us still here, is quieter and more demanding. Not the fantasy that one event will wake everyone up, but the daily choice of who we are when that awakening doesn’t come. Whether we keep naming what happened plainly. Whether we keep refusing to normalize what should never be ordinary. Whether we remain in relationship with reality, even when it costs us ease.
I don’t know where this leads. I only know that pretending we didn’t see what we saw, or that it didn’t matter because it failed(delayed, actually), is another form of surrender.
And caring anyway, without illusion, may be the most honest work left to us now.
What has happened to our country since the day I watched in horror continues to sadden me deeply.