Rev. Karen VanFossan, Fargo

I know abuse like North Dakotans know a blizzard. Having worked in the family violence field for 30+ years, I believe I can spot abuse from, well, 1100 miles away, the distance between Fargo and Washington D.C.

The 47th presidential administration shows significant signs of abuse against this family called the U.S., as well as global relatives. The “Power and Control Wheel,” a mainstay in the abuse field, names eight components: misusing privilege (40 executive orders on day one); economic abuse (threatening to freeze federal funding); coercion and threats (tariffs on friendly nations); emotional abuse (calling a presidential opponent “stupid” and “lazy”); misusing children (denying healthcare and opportunities to LGBTQ+ youth); intimidation (mass deportations and threatening military force against the “enemy from within”); causing isolation (withdrawing from the World Health Organization, Paris Climate Agreement, and more); and denying, minimizing, and blaming (condemning diversity programs for an unrelated plane crash).

Facing abuse, people adopt strategies to survive: some build solidarity, some disengage, some placate, and some side with the person being abusive, fearing the world is too dangerous for weakness. Most of us combine these approaches.

As chaos ensues, I’ve heard that voters for the president “are getting what they asked for.” But as the family violence field teaches, nobody “asks for” abuse. Still, influenced by abuse, some do turn to power and control. We’re all in this together, yet not in all the same ways. From our place in history, is solidarity possible? Are there pathways through this storm?