Thin Ice: The Storm Outside, the Storm We’re In | An open letter to anyone who feels what’s happening in this country.
Friends…
It’s beginning to ice over in Anderson County today. That heavy, glassy cold that makes the whole world go quiet. You hear sleet ticking the windows. You keep an ear out for a limb snapping. You check the porch light. You send a couple texts just to make sure people are alright.
And I can’t shake the feeling that this is what the country feels like right now.
This morning in Minneapolis, federal immigration agents shot and killed a U.S. citizen… again. DHS rushed out a statement framing it as self-defense. But the video people are watching shows something far more unsettling. A man was forced backward, pinned down, disarmed, and shot. Whatever official language comes next, a person is dead, and a city is erupting because people don’t trust the people with the guns to tell the truth about what they did.
This is the official release after the murder of a citizen - almost none of this is true.
CONTENT WARNING: VIOLENCE / FATAL SHOOTING — YOU DO NOT NEED TO WATCH TO UNDERSTAND THE REST OF THE LETTER
I’m not writing this to argue over every second of footage. I’m writing because I know what a moment like that does to a community. It sits heavy in your chest and makes the world feel less solid. It’s the same feeling as the ice outside our windows. That sense that the surface you’ve been standing on is thinner than you told yourself… and if you pretend it isn’t, somebody gets hurt.
A lot of us have been trying to find a name for what’s happening for a long time. For people my age, it feels like we’ve been on this road since 9/11. A country with more surveillance, more power handed to armed agencies, more “security” used as a magic word to excuse things we weren’t supposed to accept. For many of our older members, the memory is different: this country has been through hard times, divided times, scary times… but there were still lines. There still seemed as though there were limits. There was still a shared idea that public power had to answer to the public.
That’s the line we’ve crossed.
I believe we’re living under an authoritarian government. I’m using that word because it describes what it feels like when force replaces accountability, when official statements race ahead of the truth, when the public is told to sit down and accept it, and when people who should know better decide it’s safer to go along than to stand up.
And do not for a second think Tennessee is watching this from the sidelines. Tennessee is trying to become the model.
Republican leaders in Nashville are pushing a sweeping agenda that expands enforcement, centralizes power, and drags punishment into everyday life… and they’re selling it to us as “common sense.” Some of our own local leaders want to go further, including walking hand-in hand with ICE through 287(g) agreements. (Here’s an explanation of what th 287(g) program is)
Tennessee Republicans are doing the one thing they’ve always claimed to hate… build a bigger government (one with sharper teeth) and aim it at ordinary life.
A Tennessee where “immigration enforcement” doesn’t happen at the border. It happens at the places you can’t avoid if you’re trying to live: the DMV, the county clerk’s office, licensing boards, HR departments, courthouses, local benefits offices, and even our schools. A checkpoint state built out of paperwork, where normal life starts to come with a quiet threat… prove you belong here.
They call it “local control”, they but are threatening cities and counties that won’t comply. Calling it “small government” while mandating new verification rules, reporting requirements, and enforcement pipelines. And they’re calling it “freedom” while tying work, licensing, and stability to documentation gates.
Once you build a machine that can punish people through paperwork, there is no gate for it to stay in. If the state can put a “prove it” gate in front of somebody else’s life, it won’t be long before that gate shows up in front of yours.
They are openly push to overturn Plyler v. Doe. Plyler is the Supreme Court decision that protects a child’s right to a public education. Children.
ICE detained a 5-year-old Minesotta boy while he walked home from school.
When a party is willing to go after the basics (a kid’s seat in a classroom, that power should have limits, people shouldn’t be hunted in public and then lied about) we are past “politics as usual.”
So yes. This is dark. It’s scary. And if you feel tired, or angry, or numb, or like you’ve been bracing for impact for years… I’m right there with you.
But I refuse to accept that fear gets the final word.
Because we know what to do in an ice storm. We don’t wait for a press conference to tell us how to care for each other. We check on people. We share what we’ve got. We make sure nobody is alone in the cold. We keep the porch light on, not because it stops the storm, but because it’s a sign that someone is here, ready to welcome you.
That’s community. And community is how we overcome what’s coming.
I want to ask you to do one simple thing: Get closer.
If you’ve never been involved (if you’ve watched all of this unfold from your kitchen table) start here. Come to a district meeting. Show up to a gathering and listen. Join a caucus. Bring a friend. You don’t have to know all the acronyms. You don’t have to have the perfect politics. You don’t have to be loud. You just have to be willing to stand next to your neighbors and stop doing this alone.
There is a place for you… whether you’re young, working, retired, LGBTQ, Black, focused on the environment, worried about schools, fed up with corruption, or just plain tired of watching Tennessee get dragged backward. There is work that fits you. There are people who will be glad you came.
And for those of you who are ready for more, yes… some of you are ready for more.
If you’ve ever thought about running for office (even once, even quietly) this is the moment to take it seriously. We need local elected officials who won’t bend over backwards to placate federal harm, who won’t volunteer our county to participate in the harm, who won’t shrug and call it “just politics.” That is how you keep the worst ideas from becoming policy right here at home.
We have a real deadline: February 19 to get candidates on the ballot for August. That’s school boards. County commission. Local offices that decide whether your community bends — or holds. That date is close. And the one simple truth is that we don’t get a better county by wishing for one. We get it by stepping forward.
Today, in the middle of this storm, I’m asking you to do one simple thing:
Don’t pull inward. Don’t go quiet. Don’t decide this is hopeless.
Reach out.
If your eyes are open, stretch your hand out. If you need a hand, take one. If you’ve got strength to spare, offer it. Grab a banner, or grab a chair, or just grab the edge of the table and stay with us.
We are going to need each other. And we are going to move forward no matter what.
With love for this community,
Chase Lindsey
Chair, Anderson County Democratic Party
Things you can do right now
Join a caucus (find your people)
Our caucuses are forming now… spaces to organize with others who share a focus or a lived reality. If you’ve been looking for a way in that feels human, this is it.
If you’ve ever considered running, start the conversation
You don’t have to commit today. You don’t have to have it all figured out. But if you’ve thought about serving — school board, county commission, or any local office — reach out. We’ll talk through what it looks like and what support exists. Deadline to get on the August ballot: February 19.
Get connected (we’ll help you find your lane)
Not sure where you fit yet? That’s fine. Send a quick note with your district (if you know it) and what you care about. We’ll point you toward the right meeting, the right people, and a next step that makes sense.
Show up to one event
Pick one thing on the calendar and come. A district meeting. A general assembly. A volunteer night. Bring a friend if you can. The first step is simply being in the room.
