Not ‘Us,’ Not ‘Them,’ But ‘We’

Fear, Division, and the Path to Unity

Introduction

Tuesday’s election didn’t just give Donald Trump a second term; it exposed how fear has divided us, shaping our politics, relationships, and sense of community — a painful truth about a mindset built on mistrust.

Every election has winners and losers, but this time, it feels different. This victory was more than political — it was psychological, rooted in a narrative that has turned Americans against each other. Fear, more than policy, is shaping how we see each other. And that shift is unsettling, especially close to home.

The Rise of Fear as a Political Tool

Throughout history, fear has often been a weapon in the hands of those in power. Political leaders have long understood how to manipulate anxieties, whether over outsiders, economic insecurity, or social change. In recent years, this tactic has taken on new intensity, turning platforms into battlegrounds where fear of “the other” can be used to create entire political identities. The result is a rhetoric that transforms ordinary differences into stark divides, making it easy to see a neighbor as an enemy.

Politicians know fear can be especially powerful when there’s no clear, concrete “enemy.” Fear becomes a tool to reshape our sense of community, turning ordinary people — our fellow citizens — into perceived threats. Whether it’s through rhetoric about immigration, job security, or cultural change, fear-driven narratives amplify mistrust, driving us further from each other and making home feel a little less like home.

It’s not that we haven’t always had differences, but now, the “us vs. them” mentality creeps into nearly every aspect of life. It’s as though we can’t even hold different opinions without that dividing line solidifying into something more hostile. When difference becomes distrust, the fabric of community itself is frayed.

The Impact of Fear-Driven Brainwashing

In this environment, fear isn’t just an emotion; it’s a tool for reshaping how we see each other. Each side doubles down, often closing themselves off from any information that might challenge their perspective. In this loop, people feed their own fears, feeling even more certain that only “their side” holds the truth. This self-reinforcing bubble widens the gap, making it harder to understand or even recognize the humanity in others.

The toll of this is heavy. I see it in the way people pull back from conversations or avoid voicing their thoughts, fearing backlash from those closest to them. Relationships that were once warm turn strained as conversations become minefields. Fear doesn’t just create tension — it creates suspicion. It’s one thing to disagree with a friend or family member, but it’s another to feel that their beliefs threaten your own safety. It’s exhausting and painful, to say the least.

A Real-World Example: The Case of Springfield, Ohio

I’ve never personally been the target of the ‘wolf packs’ formed and fueled by fear, but I see how fear has become an endless fuel — a force leaders can tap into whenever it serves their purposes. This goes beyond mere rhetoric; it’s the deliberate creation of currents fueled by fear, groups that move together without questioning, leaving innocent people hurt in their path. During the election campaign, a powerful example of this impacted the people of Springfield, Ohio.

A baseless narrative spread widely on social media, claiming that Haitian immigrants — many of whom have lived in Springfield legally for years — were killing and eating local pets. This unfounded claim was amplified by influencers and leaders like Trump and Ohio’s JD Vance, gaining significant traction online. Although officials confirmed there were no credible reports, the damage was already done; fear had cast innocent people as threats. It’s frustrating to see how quickly these falsehoods spread, especially when they leave real people hurt and entire communities on edge.”

When Division Becomes the New Normal

Fear has a way of simplifying complex issues, flattening a world of nuance into binary choices. It’s as if we’ve been conditioned to respond to political differences the way we’d respond to fire or flooding, as immediate threats rather than points for discussion. And in the face of “danger,” it’s only natural for people to double down on their views, even if it means casting doubt on others who hold different beliefs. The discomfort of holding conflicting beliefs is easier to bear when you can push away opposing perspectives altogether. This division becomes a kind of comfort zone, where challenging perspectives feel threatening and familiar ones feel safe.

As a naturalized American, I know I’m technically one of “them” — an immigrant who came here in search of the same opportunities that shaped so many generations before me. Yet, because of my race, I’ve been largely spared from suspicion. This “pass” serves as a reminder of how fear shapes perception, often overlooking the common immigrant journey while targeting those who may look, speak, or believe differently.

It’s unsettling to feel like I’m accepted while others, just like me, are cast aside because of appearance alone. This fragile sense of belonging is a painful reminder of how easily we’re divided. In a nation where everyone, aside from Native Americans, shares a history of immigration, it’s a profound irony that fear of “the other” continues to thrive.

Rediscovering Empathy and Understanding

The challenge now is to push back against this narrative, to reclaim empathy as a guiding force. Fear can only prevail as long as it’s unchallenged, and challenging it means reaching across divides that may feel insurmountable. At the heart of this effort is empathy — the willingness to understand, rather than judge, and to see “the other” not as an enemy, but as a fellow human being. Empathy often starts as simple curiosity — like taking a moment to ask “What if?” when we don’t fully understand. And in a world where fear has conditioned us to do the opposite, listening can be a revolutionary act. It may feel uncomfortable, even dangerous, but it’s the only way to begin dismantling the walls fear has built between us.

Conclusion

In the end, it’s not about us versus them — it’s about “we,” the community we share. We’re all in this together, and we need to find a way to make it work. So I ask: can we choose empathy over fear, challenge the narratives that divide us, and see each other as part of the same human story?

Perhaps the resilience, openness, or empathy we seek in the world begins within us — quietly, where self-awareness grows, reminding us of what we can cultivate in ourselves and each other for a better future. The future we want — a future that is safe, compassionate, and unified — begins with the small choices we make every day to seek understanding over judgment.