Frozen
In the first month of the Trump administration, a profound and insidious chill has settled over many communities, particularly those already marginalized. A day 1 executive order purported to ensure the federal government and taxpayer dollars would not be used to, “unconstitutionally abridge the free speech of any American citizen,” but has had the opposite effect.[1] Hate has been emboldened; pride in anything about who we are, other than the administration’s view of American exceptionalism, silenced. The early actions of the administration sent shockwaves through public discourse, freezing speech, impeding action, and stalling personal growth. Whether through fear of retaliation, the erasure of historical truths, or the psychological weight of living under a government perceived as hostile, countless individuals found themselves paralyzed. This chilling effect has left many frozen in place, uncertain of how to proceed.
People are hesitant to show support, even in the smallest ways, for anything the Trump administration opposes. I have received private messages from people who confided that they were afraid to like or comment on something I shared on social media, fearing that visibility might make them a target. This self-censorship is not mere paranoia; it is a response to an administration that, from the outset, showed a willingness to attack dissenters. When people fear engaging in basic discourse, democracy itself suffers. Public participation—essential for progress and change—becomes stifled, leaving voices unheard and issues unaddressed.
Beyond personal fear, a broader institutional suppression of knowledge became evident with the administration's actions. Does removal of all references to transgender people from government websites[2], a list of forbidden words in research publications[3], or pulling books from library shelves sound like the actions of an administration focused on free speech? These erasures were not accidental; they were deliberate attempts to rewrite reality, to render certain identities invisible in the present and the past. Schools at Ft Campbell pulled books off the shelf that mentioned slavery and civil rights.[4] The Department of Defense schools on Ft Campbell and across the South exist in part because Southern states once refused to educate the children of Black soldiers after desegregation was mandated. Now, those same schools are purging the very history that explains their existence. Such erasures send a clear message: some histories, some identities, are inconvenient to those in power and are therefore expendable.
The impact of this erasure is profound. When a government actively removes historical truths and marginalized identities from public discourse, it is an assertion of dominance—a declaration that only certain narratives deserve recognition. The chilling effect here extends beyond policy; it permeates the psyche. If history is erased, if communities are rendered invisible, then their struggles, their victories, and their continued existence become precarious. It is an attempt to erase not just the past, but the possibility of a different future.
The psychological toll of such an environment cannot be overstated. One message I received from a NASA employee speaks to this directly. They expressed fear in merely opening their work email, dreading another administrative directive reaffirming compliance with Trump's executive orders. The weight of such an existence—constantly on edge, perpetually afraid—prevents people from thriving. Instead, they become locked in survival mode, focused only on navigating the next day, the next hour, without daring to dream beyond their immediate reality. For many in the transgender community, and for other marginalized groups, this is not just political rhetoric; it is life under siege.
To understand the horrors of warfare, learning what happens to a population under siege is a good place to start. We’re seeing a modern day example right now. Locked in place, survival resources dwindling, and the constant stress of wondering where the next attack will come from, take an immense toll. Transgender people denied passports that reflect their gender are trapped in the United States.[5] Health care is fading away as hospitals and insurers focus on government dollars instead of patient care.[6]? As corporations supported by government contracts withdraw their dollars from marginalized communities, services shrink.[7] As the resource pool shrinks, competition intensifies and infighting can threaten to tear communities apart from the inside. Without relief, the siege unbroken, the end result is a withering away of the population and a fracturing of what bound them together.
Mental health professionals understand this freeze, especially when prolonged, to be toxic. Frozen in a state of heightened stress, tension, and hyperarousal, the body suffers real long-term damage.[8] On a personal level, I’ve also felt this paralysis. My growth has stalled, my ability to learn stunted by unrelenting crisis response. When every moment is consumed by reacting to threats, there is no room for curiosity, no space for intellectual expansion. Every book I pick up is interrupted by thoughts of writing another to-do list. I don’t have the bandwidth to check in on friends and I’m constantly aware of how easy it would be to lash out in anger. Supporting a community under threat consumes all available energy. It is a cruel irony: those most in need of strength and resilience are drained by the very fight for survival.
But if fear is the freeze, then hope must be the antifreeze. Hope is not naive optimism; it is the radical act of believing in a better future despite overwhelming adversity. It is found in the quiet resistance of those who continue to speak even when their voices shake. It is in the messages from strangers, seeking comfort and finding solidarity. It is in the act of remembering history, of refusing to let the past be erased, of ensuring that stories of struggle and resilience are passed on.
Hope is also in the choice to persist. Even in the face of fear, engaging—whether through conversation, education, or advocacy—thaws the ice that seeks to immobilize us. Every time someone defies the pressure to remain silent, they contribute to a collective warmth that can melt the suppressive frost. Every act of existence, no matter how small, is an assertion of humanity against those who seek to erase it.
The first month of the Trump administration casts a dark, chilling shadow on the coming years. But even in the coldest winters, warmth persists. It persists in the stories we tell, in the truths we refuse to let die, in the communities we build and protect. The antidote to fear is not only hope—it is courage, actively cultivated, relentlessly pursued. So speak, use the rights you’ve been given, by birth or by choice, and stand up for the rights of every American. And with enough truly free speech, we will thaw what has been frozen and move forward once more, with memory intact and hearts open.
The views expressed in this article are personal and do not reflect the official guidance or position of the United States Government, the Department of Defense, or the United States Space Force.
Security Defense Administrator | Technology Consultant | Cyber Security Leader | Community Leader | Public Speaker | Program Manager | Project Manager | US Air Force Veteran | US Army Veteran
1 周Ma'am it has been an honor working with you in several capacities, most recently in Sparta. Your synopsis here is profound and accurate. I personally feel the country has failed, and it failed the moment this tyrant was elected a second time, if we can even say elected. I stand with you until the end.
The Warrior Advocate | Author | Recovery Mentor
2 周We have received calls at our firm expressing the same.
Strategist/Writer/Designer | Connecting your message with your markets
2 周Bree Fram, profound and moving. I despise the way these changes have chilled and squeezed so many lives.
Leading Sandoz Global Quality Solutions / Support inclusive workplaces for the LGBTQI+ community by leading the Sandoz LGBTQI+ CoB / Mother / Award Winning Transgender & LGBTQI+ Rights Activist????? / Views are personal
2 周Bree Fram thank you for this analysis which is spot on. I am not a US citizen but I have friends in the States. Friends from the LGBTQI+ community and transgender women. I still count on the Checks and Balances but as you said correctly, the damage already has been done. I stand with you and I will not be silent here in Europe. Take care!