A M E R I C A … The Beautiful?

Jan 26

A M E R I C A … The Beautiful?

Part One | January 4, 2026

“Patriotism is supporting your country all the time, and your government when it deserves it.”¹
¹ Mark Twain, Mark Twain’s Notebook, 1904.

While traveling abroad—mostly throughout Europe—during the summer and into early fall of 2025, I was consistently, often daily (and sometimes multiple times a day), asked the same series of questions by strangers.

At restaurants.
By hostel roommates.
By receptionists.
By travel guides.
From all over the world—many who were also visiting Europe at the same time as me.

The question—or rather, the statement—was always the same.

“Oh, you are American.”

It was usually followed by the most uncomfortable questions that we as American’s try to avoid at any and all family or work gatherings:

“What do you think of the President?”

“What do you think about what’s happening in your country right now?”

“What do you think of America right now?”

To be honest, I had only received my passport a few months before leaving for this trip. America was all I knew. And I was not prepared to face these political questions. I had never been someone who dabbled in politics or social affairs. In fact, to avoid conflict, I avoided them altogether.

But at this point—with the steady barrage of questions from strangers dying to talk about just that thing that Mark Twain told us not to talk about, politics, as well as the growing pressure building back home, and my exposure to patterns of government throughout history as I traveled, I knew it was time and more so, my responsibility, to pay attention.

Before the last election, I did very little research on candidates. From roughly 2006 to 2018—my young adult years as a voter—I cast my votes without much thought, and as an American—I lived without giving much weight to being born one.

When it was time to vote, I would mindlessly pressed the “Republican” button and called it a day.

Why?

Because I was raised Republican, I suppose. I was surrounded by that mindset. At the time, I was unable to think any other way than the way I had been molded—by my family, my church, my state, my community, and my government. And because I lacked awareness and conviction to question it.

Now, before I continue, I want to be clear: I do not disagree with all Republican positions. And I do not vote 100% Democrat now, either.

I now vote—and think—based on what feels right.

Issues are nuanced. And honestly, I still struggle with the belief that politics are often little more than a sandbox of mostly men in suits—desperate for attention and validation for their broken egos, or at least, that is what politics have become.

But that doesn’t mean I can look away anymore. Because whether it’s a sandbox of broken boys or the fate of a nation, the result is the same—it affects us.

The issue wasn’t how I voted. It was that I voted without thinking.

I was affecting my community and my country without taking responsibility for my role in it.

I had been so disengaged. For years, I kept politics at arm’s length. I told myself that if I got too close, I would feel it. And if I felt it—what would I do then?

________________________

Standing on foreign soil, being asked detailed questions about my own homeland, I realized many people knew more about American politics than I did.

Each night before bed, I checked my phone for news from home:

• Targeted killings of Minnesota lawmakers
• Nationwide “No Kings” protests
• Deployment of National Guard troops to Washington, D.C., Los Angeles, and Chicago²
• Expansion of ICE operations in major U.S. cities³
• Extreme weather and climate disasters⁴
• The killing of a Ukrainian refugee on public transit
• A high school shooting in Colorado
• The killing of political activist Charlie Kirk
• A church shooting in Michigan
• Multiple mass shootings across the country⁵
• A federal government shutdown

These headlines—along with countless others—followed me as I traveled. My heart grew heavy at times, and at other times, relieved. I can only assume this is how a child feels when they distance themselves from a toxic home environment. No matter, as I began to feel separate from my motherland, which in a way, isolated the events, I began to see them more clearly for what they were – consistent, heavy, and not normal. I began to quickly see my country for what it was becoming (or possibly, has been, and I’m just now realizing it), and being able to compare it to the calmer, more primitive, parts of Europe.

________________________

On September 10, 2025, I journaled early in the morning as Italian sunlight poured through the large windows of the villa where I was staying.

The night before, while my roommates slept—one from Australia, one from Venezuela, one from England—I lay awake with my headphones on, staring at the horrific news on my phone.

Charlie Kirk was shot in the neck.

A woman was stabbed on a subway.

Another shooting in Colorado.

All within weeks.

America is a disaster, I thought.

I hadn’t slept a wink.

A few days later, I sat in a pancake diner in Rome with women I had met on a tour—two from Spain, one from Switzerland, and one from Italy.

They asked me about America.

“…and the shootings?” one said.
“…the guns?” asked another.

I paused, then answered honestly.

“We have the right to bear arms to protect ourselves. That’s the purpose of the law.”⁶
“But I can’t deny the violence is out of control.”⁵

I added, “That law exists so we can protect ourselves from our own government if it ever turns on us.”⁷

They stared at me.

“What would happen if your government tried to overthrow you?” I asked them.

They looked at each other.

“We can’t carry guns,” they said.

“So how would you protect yourselves?” I asked.

“We trust our government wouldn’t do that.”

“And if one day they decided you should be removed?” I asked.
“How would you protect yourself then?”

________________________

As a single mother, I legally carried a firearm for many years—silently, without many knowing.

When I slept, I slept with a gun locked in a safe beside my bed.

Why?

Self-protection.

If a man broke into my home, how would I defend myself?

If someone attacked my daughter, how would I stop them?

If that sounds paranoid, think again.

I have been stalked—more than once—by different men. They found where I lived. One watched my home from behind a bush.

A man once forced his way into my home and onto my body while my daughter slept.

I have been sexually assaulted more than once—by strangers and by partners. I have been abused.

Experience taught me this world is not safe. Experience has taught me,

someone larger than you has the advantage,

be prepared to defend yourself.

I believe in self-defense. I believe people have the right to protect themselves in their homes. I believe people have the right to carry weapons to defend themselves—from predators, and yes, from the government, should it turn on its own citizens.⁶⁷⁸

I believe in the right to bear arms, and I believe we should continue to have that right.⁶

And I also believe there is a gun violence epidemic in America, and something must change.⁵
Both can be true at once.

I was raised in the Midwest around guns. I was taught to respect them—to understand they are deadly and meant only for protection, never harm.

Living in California has not changed this belief. Time and experience though, has enforced this belief.

________________________

Three days after I first drafted this essay, a woman my age was killed during a protest in Minnesota. Her name was Renee Good.

I was sick with the flu, bedridden for two weeks, watching the news. My chest felt heavy—not from illness, but from grief.

I think back to my childhood—twenty to thirty years ago—when Columbine happened. The nation mourned for months. Back then, tragedy was sparce. Our nation grieved 911 for years after it happened, but now, daily, our children die in schools and it happens so often that we can’t stay informed.

Now in America, tragedy is daily.

The news can’t keep up.

Our minds can’t keep up.

Our souls are exhausted.

There is another epidemic brewing beneath all of this. It isn’t gun violence alone, or at all, really, because one would not exist without the other, but I will leave that issue for another Sunday blog.

Though, if you read closely, you’ll find the predator exists in these lines already.

Part 2 | Sunday, January 25

Yesterday, a man died.

No.

He was beaten, kicked, overwhelmed, and shot multiple times while on the ground.

Yesterday, a man was murdered.

I watched the footage. From every available angle. But more importantly, I watched his energy.

Alex Pretti. Thirty-seven years old. One year younger than me.

From what I could see, he appeared to be trying to shield a woman from pepper spray during an ICE protest in Minnesota. I watched him try to move her out of harm’s way. I watched him record the violence on his phone.

I believe he was legally carrying a gun, as they say, though I never saw him fire it.⁸

I then watched news clips from where government officials say he intended to “do maximum damage” as a way to do damage control.

I shake my head as I write this—in disgust.

A protester recording on his phone stepped in to shield a woman from pepper spray. He was ambushed by ICE. He was dragged back into a swarm of agents—six or seven to one body—and was on the ground.

Whether or not he reached for a weapon, I could not see. But, if he did, he would have had the right to defend himself, though he did not.

Someone - a group larger than him - had the advantage.

After the first bullet was shot at him, he was shot again, another time.
And again.
And again.
Yes—again.

Again. Again. Again. Again.

And yes, again.

Yes, ten times. Alex Pretti was shot 10 times.

The camera pulls back. The woman recording steps away, screaming, “Why!?” at the masked men.

Alex’s lifeless body lay in the street, riddled with bullets.

And then the narrative begins.

A 37-year-old ICU nurse is labeled a terrorist, a menace.

We see what is happening.

We understand it.

We have eyes.

We saw what happened. We saw Renee Good struck again and again, even after she was likely already dead. We heard the ICE agent curse at her and degrade her corpse.

No amount of narrative twisting can hide brutality from those willing to look honestly.

We, The People, have common sense.

Why History Matters

Our national origins matter.

Our ancestors came to America seeking freedom from the Crown’s suppression and control—a truth we tend to forget. That struggle shaped not only our identity, but our laws.

The English Bill of Rights of 1689 acknowledged the right to bear arms for self-defense in response to the Crown’s attempts to disarm dissenters and expand standing armies.²

In early America, militias were trusted. Standing armies were feared.

The Declaration of Independence condemned King George III for elevating military power above civil authority and maintaining standing armies without consent.³

After independence, states echoed these concerns. Pennsylvania’s Declaration of Rights of 1776 affirmed the right to bear arms, warned against standing armies in peacetime, and insisted the military remain subordinate to civil power.⁴

________________________

I think about Alex who died yesterday.

I think about his instincts. His intent. His right to defend a woman, and my god, I wish more men would—and his right to defend himself and others to corruptness.

And then I think about power.

What is worse than a crooked government that has power?

A crooked government that takes advantage of weak-minded men—dresses them in uniforms, feeds their egos, conditions their minds, places weapons in their hands—and then uses them as tools against humanity, without any amount of self-control or consciousness.

That collision—between men, power, fear, and authority—is where I am left standing.

Unresolved.

Watching.

Still considering the question I was asked around the world.

“What do you think about America, right now?”

————————————————————————————————————I hear the world ask me.

Well.

It’s not so beautiful anymore.

Written by: Grace Ellen Lawrence

Notes

Mark Twain, Mark Twain’s Notebook, ed. Albert Bigelow Paine (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1935), 1.
English Bill of Rights, 1689, 1 Will. & Mar. Sess. 2 c. 2 (Eng.).
Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1776, National Archives.
Pennsylvania Declaration of Rights, September 28, 1776, art. XIII.
Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), “Firearm Injury and Death Data,” United States.
U.S. Constitution, amend. II (ratified 1791).
James Madison, The Federalist No. 46, in The Federalist Papers.
District of Columbia v. Heller, 554 U.S. 570 (2008).
Amnesty International, United States: Protest Policing and Use of Force.
Human Rights Watch, reports on law enforcement use of force and protest response in democratic states.
U.S. Department of Homeland Security, public documentation on Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) operations and enforcement authority.
Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), Assessment Reports.

Bibliography

Amnesty International. United States: Protest Policing and Use of Force.

Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Firearm Injury and Death Statistics.

Declaration of Independence. July 4, 1776. National Archives.

English Bill of Rights. 1689.

Hamilton, Alexander. The Federalist No. 29.

Madison, James. The Federalist No. 46.

Pennsylvania Declaration of Rights. 1776.

District of Columbia v. Heller. 554 U.S. 570 (2008).

Twain, Mark. Mark Twain’s Notebook. Edited by Albert Bigelow Paine. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1935.

U.S. Constitution.

U.S. Department of Homeland Security. ICE Operations and Enforcement Authority.

Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. Assessment Reports.

News and Contemporary Context

A M E R I C A … The Beautiful?