Some day documentaries will tell the story of America's second Civil War, when the United States almost destroyed itself for the second time in its young history.
And that retelling might reveal that the first Civil War, the one we fought in the 1860s, never ended, and America's second Civil War, the one we're ramping up for now, is actually part two of the first.
For example, Reconstruction was less about making a new nation, and more about repurposing the Confederacy, which still clung to the core values of the south — racial intolerance, elitism and privilege, to name a few.
In 1865, the year the Civil War ended, southern state legislators enacted laws called “black codes” that were intended to once again control the behavior of former slaves.
In the 1960s — a century later — separatism was still very much alive, as African-Americans were barred from classrooms and bathrooms, from theaters and train cars, and from juries and legislatures.
Then in August 1966, Martin Luther King Jr., while demonstrating against housing discrimination in Chicago, found himself face-to-face with an angry mob waving the Confederate flag and chanting “white power.”
Fifty-one years after that, in August 2017, hundreds of American Nazis and white supremacists carried torches across the University of Virginia campus chanting “White lives matter!” and “Jews will not replace us!” One woman was killed.
And today, in spite of the fact that the Confederate Battle Flag represents only seven of the 50 states, few have challenged the patriotism of those who want to convince the rest of us that Confederate flags and statues are not about racism at all.
The past has never been the past. We are a country that has been at war with itself for most of its existence.
But it isn't just a case of white versus black or dysfunctional party politics. Conflict never stands apart from systemic failure, but peaks at a time of convergence. And that is where we are.
Of course, President Donald Trump is the poison in the water, but he came along at a time when black churches, once front and center of the civil rights movement, haven't really shown any sign of an organized effort to publicly call out bigotry.
And Trump is not responsible for the NAACP becoming as outdated as its acronym, relegating itself to a booking company that issues travel warnings.
It is not Trump's fault that for eight years of the Obama administration, Democrats rested on self-righteousness at having elected the first black president — blind to the fact that one victory, no matter the magnitude, doesn't guarantee the health of the party or the nation.
Being anti-Trump is not policy, but with serious issues like global warming cast aside, opposing Trump is the only way for Democrats to stand for something, anything.
And even though only second-string Republicans show up for interviews in defense of Trump, not enough Republicans have had the courage to act in favor of saving the democracy.
Indeed, for many in Trump's administration, this moment in history is more than they were ever due, and they'll hold on to it with both hands.
Meanwhile, progressive whites have for the most part retired to the suburbs, satisfied that being friendly and accepting was enough to outweigh bigotry.
And the generations that sprang from this unintentional complacency took their own path forward.
Regarding Hispanic and Latino Americans, now the largest ethnic minority in the U.S., Trump has done a good job intimidating this population to the extent that even legal immigrants would rather be silent than risk becoming a target of bigots.
Having witnessed the mob mentality at Trump rallies, and the skirmishes that have already taken place in some communities, is it really too far a stretch to imagine chaos in our neighborhoods?
That common purpose cannot reside comfortably with individual rights is proof of our lack of courage in the face of adversity.
In this moment we are nothing like our Founding Fathers.
Tribune Content Agency
Gloria Johns is a freelance writer living in San Angelo, Texas.