When the World Shakes

On the morning of Sept. 11, 2001, I woke up late in a hotel in L.A., where I was on assignment, turned on the TV, and saw the World Trade Center imploding. I looked down and I was on the floor. My legs literally gave way beneath me. I have no memory of how it happened physically; just that, for an instant, everything collapsed.

Wednesday’s riot against American democracy felt far worse, as if the earth was dissolving. Watching a raging, violent mob break into the massive edifice of the U.S. Capitol, trying to tear down our democracy, seeing an armed insurrection live on TV. The horror of knowing they were being urged on by the lying psychopath in the White House, like an out-of-control criminal taking a giant battering ram to the foundations of our country’s house, setting off a bomb from within. When the security of the world as I thought I knew it dissolved like the towers collapsing into dust.

In Miami, where I’ve lived for decades, I’ve heard countless stories from people who fled violent authoritarianism and chaos in countries like Cuba, Haiti, Nicaragua, Argentina, and Venezuela for what they saw as the secure refuge of our country, of a democracy bound by law. They’ve been my co-workers, friends, lovers, neighbors, my fellow music lovers and dancers and scenesters and community members. As a former journalist for the Miami Herald and other publications, I’ve interviewed…