I first played with Lego bricks as a child in Puerto Rico in the 1970s. My father owned a restaurant, and I rarely got to play with him during the day. I have cherished memories of building wild and whimsical structures from brightly colored bricks as we sat on our cold tile floor late at night. He passed away shortly after that when I was nine. To this day, those little plastic bricks remain my ethereal line to a father I barely knew.
Over four years ago in 2020, I purchased a set that tickled my fancy. This is no surprise; I have many Lego sets. However, this set was one for The White House. Though I might have built it whenever I wanted, the notion of building it during the Trump presidency filled me with profound sadness. I refused; I set it aside. On January 20, 2021, shortly after President Biden’s inauguration, I finally opened the roughly 1500-piece set and started building it. I finished by evening, but still on Inauguration Day.
Today, I’m dismantling that White House.
Dismantling that White House
I had high hopes for this 2024 presidential election. Months ago, in optimistic preparation, I ordered a protective display case for that Lego set. Then upon either the moment Kamala Harris won the election or perhaps Inaugural Day in 2025, I’d dust that Lego build to make it shiny and new. I hadn’t decided which event I’d respond to, but as it happens, it wouldn’t matter. With a nuanced optimism, I really wanted to put it all together. I hungered for the opportunity to symbolically protect that White House that represented people like me. I got the protective dome to prove it.
However, we collectively decided that a unified America was not what we wanted. We asserted that the “united” moniker in the United States was merely an ironic suggestion. Someone who vocally, and vulgarly confesses to assaulting women and is similarly found liable is acceptable for president. He who not only openly makes racist references, but who is also sued for racist housing practices, is completely fine. We completely accept a 34-time convicted felon for president. To quote my friend from eight years before, “Hate won today.”
Much like I would not endure building my White House during the Trump presidency, I cannot bear the idea of keeping it intact during his next presidency. This White House, like our country, shattered. Symbolically, it only makes sense to dismantle it, brick by brick. Therefore, here I sit on a quiet evening, prying apart Lego bricks from each other. The tears quietly well in my eyes as I ponder about our collective future as I deposit each brick into a plastic bag. Each brick represents a policy that Trump either establishes or abolishes that systematically represses our humanity.
Dismantling ≠ Destroying
I think about my dad, an honest man with barely any formal education. He enriched the lives of the patrons in his restaurant with exceptional Chinese food and a razor-sharp wit. He occasionally mentored others, as they slowly improved their craft. My father may have been the gentlest soul I knew. Even then, he understood how the United States symbolized opportunity. Today, people hear assertions like, “They’re eating the dogs.” They’ll mentally see images of people like my dad. Though he eventually became a US citizen, some will continue to see him as an‘other’, a perpetual outsider. This fills me with sadness.
Though I might’ve easily taken a hammer to my Lego White House, I refuse to destroy it. I am not conceding defeat; I merely accept that the situation has changed and live to fight another day. Sure, they may have just figuratively hit that grand slam to take the lead, but neither the game nor the series has ended. Historically, we demonstrated that we will eventually do the right thing. We abolished slavery. We gave our black and female citizens the right to vote. Gay couples can finally marry, as can mixed-race couples. The list continues, but none came quickly nor without conflict.
To allow the despair to overwhelm me would be to give up on the promise of that America, the one my dad believed in. To quote Amanda Gorman, “A nation that isn’t broken, but simply unfinished.” I quietly put those plastic pieces away, knowing that in this particular case, I can indeed ‘put Humpty Dumpty back together again’. That reassembled Lego White House will be as good and beautiful as it first was. In quiet optimism, I look forward to that day.
Outlasting the darkness
Now what? Now comes the long dark night. Our figurative sunrise may be mere hours away, or considerably longer if we are in the Artic Circle, but we know that it will come. The darkness will lift. As I read through The Hill We Climb again, Gorman’s words haunt me:
Where can we find light
In this never-ending shade?
Lawrence O’Donnell recently spoke of optimism. He noted that Nelson Mandela served in prison for 27 years, yet he woke every day with hope that things would improve. Eventually, he becomes president of South Africa. I don’t expect anyone reading this post to serve in prison for 27 years while waiting for the darkness to lift. However, I do expect us to be patient.
In 2020 during the BLM protests, I felt guilt for neglecting to protest out on the streets in a show of unity. However, I came to realize that I erred in how I tormented myself and subsequently learned to give myself a little grace. We each possess different strengths; we each have a different role to play. You may be the ‘go out to protest’ and ‘strength in numbers’ person; that’s great. You may be the ‘get out and knock on doors’ person; we need you. I ponder ideas and arrange them in unconventional ways to provoke thought. Then I write them down like this. It often allows people to re-evaluate their position on issues; that’s my contribution.
Huddle
The hateful rhetoric already started, and Trump is not yet in office. Posts with “Your Body, My Choice” emerged. While this may be interpreted in different ways, they’re simply different flavors and degrees of misogyny. I see more posts referring to human beings as simply ‘illegals’. That word weaponized, is now used with more rancor and contempt. Swimming in a sea of hate will break us; we must huddle to survive.
We’ll resemble emperor penguins in the hostile environment of Antarctica, huddled for warmth and comfort. On the days when I only have 80%, I’ll ask for help. On the days you struggle, I’ll be here for you. We have strength in unity; together, we’ll have 100%. That’s where we find the light; we find it in each other.
For now, I sit here with my physical copy of Amanda Gorman’s The Hill We Climb in its bright yellow cover to inspire me. A Lego minifigure of Ruth Bader Ginsburg sits in its hand-sized acrylic case; she guides me. I put that Lego White House safely away for hibernation while I wait for the darkness to lift. We’ll weather the storm together.