Written by Dennis Harvell
The Quiet Watch
There was a time, not so long ago, when the world felt wide open. Ten or fifteen years back, the air felt lighter. We walked through our neighborhoods noticing the weather or the music drifting from a window, not scanning for conflict. I was raised to see the person, not the color; to build a table where everyone had a seat. For a long time, that felt like the natural order of things.
But lately, the world has accelerated. It has become louder, sharper, and—for many of us—more exclusionary.
It is exhausting to feel the world being rewritten by voices you don’t recognize, especially when those voices target the identity and peace you’ve carried your whole life. I’ve always considered myself a calm person, raised to see people for who they are, not the shade of their skin — and that is a profound strength. Yet it is deeply unsettling to feel like the country you’ve built your life in is becoming a place where your very presence is questioned. The “othering” of citizens and the threat of deportation for people who have been part of this nation’s fabric for years is a violation of the safety and belonging every person deserves.
The world hasn’t changed at its core, but the volume has been turned up on the most divisive elements. When people begin shouting things that once lived in the shadows, it shatters the shared reality I grew up with.
And when I hear people suggesting I belong here any less than they do, I remind myself that their ideology is rooted in fear and a narrow view of history. My citizenship and contributions are facts. Their rhetoric is simply an attempt at control.
I’ve realized I don’t want to meet this darkness with more noise. I don’t want to rant or judge. Instead, I choose to focus on what I can control.
So, I find myself in a season of slowing down, even as I feel the strange urge to stay more “on guard” than ever. Even with a comfortable home and a peaceful heart, the external forces of 2026 press against the glass. It is a hardship of the spirit. When you see citizens being told they don’t belong in the only home they’ve ever known, it creates a weight that no amount of personal comfort can fully lift.
To me, control is choosing to remain a calm person even when the world is shouting. It is staying creative — writing, reading, exercising — to ensure that while I may be slowing my pace, I am never becoming complacent. I am watching. I am witnessing. And I am holding onto the truth that we are all more than the labels others try to force upon us.
Because there is a difference between peace and complacency.
Peace is choosing calm in the middle of a storm.
