My block looks much like America.

A mix of mid-century development with homeowners, rental properties, flag lots… even one small elder care retirement home. The community is still mostly white, but that’s changing.

I’m a white man with a Black wife and four mixed daughters. One of my children is trans and a few nights ago she came out of her bedroom, tearfully asking me in the kitchen:

“Is it illegal to be a trans kid?”

I hope she found comfort in my assurance that some people want trans kids illegal…but we will always keep her safe, no matter what.

Another household on my block is a blended family. Two white bio-children, one of them non-binary, with an adopted Black sibling. The neighborhood kids encountered little difficulty using they/them pronouns. They care a lot about friends being fun, who know how to share, can count to thirty during hide-and-seek without cheating and sing the best handclap songs. None of them care about pronouns.

I hope adults learn from them.

That same family hosted several Venezuelan immigrants over nearly a year. The adults scrambled for work, finding whatever jobs would let them eke out a living. Neighborhood kids played with their children, trading Spanish and English words, everyone absorbing something new.

I hope they get the same chances my grandparents had for building a better life.

One older white man moved away from the block a few years ago. He had a Trump sticker on his car. Unlike antifascist friends of mine in smaller towns, nobody slashed his tires. Nobody threatened to murder his children. Nobody published his address on the internet amidst a campaign of death threats. No police officers posted his photo on their precinct Facebook pages calling him an “undesirable” community member. I guess maybe he didn’t feel comfortable as the block changed.

I hope he finds peace wherever he is now.

Two neighbors on the block are a Black and white gay couple. They’ve wanted to adopt for years and finally last week I spotted one of them walking down the street, his arms holding an infant bundled up against the January chill. I can’t wait to see their kid grow into another member of the happy legions who rampage around our neighborhood on dented bikes, building tree houses and sticking band-aids on scraped knees.

I hope their marriage remains legal.

Another family on our block is white and Asian with mixed children. One of the kids is non-binary and still experimenting with pronouns. I remember the first time their father told me, his voice hesitant… unsure if I was safe to admit this with. He felt so relieved upon hearing about my own trans kid.

I hope someday we can talk about our families without fear.

One white man on the block wears a Blue Lives Matter hoodie. Before his wife left him, we often heard them screaming at each other from inside their house. Some weeks the police showed up multiple times responding to domestic violence calls that other neighbors dialed in. They had a teenage daughter who dyed her hair blue or pink. A few years back she committed suicide, hanging herself from a limb of the giant oak tree that spreads across their backyard.

The man has another kid, an awkward son who clumps down the block with headphones covering both ears. Once I overheard him chanting, a repeat of some media, perhaps music or a news broadcast… his voice calling out:

USA! USA! USA!

I hope that USA means an America we can all live in.