Wen Gao in The Common Reader:
As a child, I imagined America as a truly democratic place where I could speak, disagree, and still listen. I even used to quote half seriously, “I disagree with what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it,” from an American movie I watched, when I argued with my little friends. That line felt like a promise. I thought that was what America looked like. Later, I realized that the promise was harder to keep. I remember when I saw Charlie Kirk being killed while debating, I felt lost, totally lost. What about freedom of speech?
Having lived in the United States for a few years, I have either struggled to understand democracy in practice or struggled to keep up with it. People laugh at Trump jokes, and in many public spaces, it feels like a small ritual; you must say something about him, in public or personal conversation. I understand it, and I do not. Should I laugh too, and say, “Yes, that is awful,” or stay silent with something I do not truly understand?
Sometimes I sit there, smiling faintly, unsure if the laughter is about politics or about belonging.
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