Why I Feel Betrayed

Why I Feel Betrayed

What follows is the post I made on Facebook on January 17. I want to introduce it here a bit to clarify a few things. First, this was addressed specifically to real-life friends who defend everything Trump does and believe his “rough edges” are in fact good things. I have many friends who voted for Trump as what they perceived as the lesser of two evils, and while I am SO grateful for their perspectives too, if you do not self-identify as MAGA, then chances are good you are not the ones I was specifically speaking to. šŸ˜‰ Even so, I want to share my own perspective and invite yours, because your matters–whether you were my “target audience” here or not.

Unlike the Facebook post, which got TOTALLY out of hand, I intend to moderate any comments here completely, which means things that show the commenter to be mildly-upset will be let through but I reserve the right to chime in to invite you to see a different perspective (you don’t have to agree with it, but please try to understand it, if you’re engaging), and shouting or name-calling comments will either not be approved to begin with or be deleted as soon as I see them). And if you just don’t want to comment at all, I get. If this comment sections remains a ghost-town, that’s fine. šŸ˜‰

I also want to take a moment to note that this was my first (and perhaps last, LOL) viral post on social media. It got about 800K views by the time I’m posting this, with a little under 3K comments (this number includes comments on shares, not just on my post itself on my page), and over 400 shares. Way higher than anything I’d seen before. And while I know it only did that because it was dealing with political things, I am still grateful that my “once in a lifetime” viral post was on something that matters and not a cat video. šŸ˜‰ (I’m not dissing cat videos. I love them.) I also want to note that I’m blown away by the number of international viewers who reached out privately and/or commented, most of whom had no idea how I ended up in their feed. But I saw people from England, Scotland, Denmark, Australia, Germany, Sweden, and New Zealand…and there were several who mentioned being not-US but whose country of origin I didn’t actually see.

Which I mention solely because they all said that this conversation–not the viewpoints, but the fact that we were having an earnest conversation–was the first thing they’d seen out of the US to give them hope that we’ll survive this current storm. That touched me. And gave me hope too.

One final note–that I’m adding some notes. Footnote style. Just things to provide you with the source to which I’m referring. If I’m bringing them up, it’s because it was part of the conversation I’ve had in years past with people who matter to me on these subjects. I’m not claiming you, particularly, claim them. Rather, I’m claiming that they’re part of what I was told. (I did not include these in the original post for the sake of length.)

~*~

Hey, MAGA friends—do you have a minute? I need to talk through some things.

The last couple nights, I’ve been lying awake, honestly upset to the point of tears, after seeing some memes and posts shared here (edited to add: these were not worried, anxious thoughts and tears. They were tears of sorrow, and this “upset” led to a burden to put words to it…and when Roseanna the Writer feels a burden to words to something, she inevitably ends up doing it in the middle of the night, LOL)1. And I need to hear your actual thoughts so I avoid making any wrong assumptions. I want to say this clearly up front: I love you. In real life, you’re my family, my friends, my neighbors, my book-club people. You matter to me. Your viewpoints matter to me.

I usually live by ā€œdon’t talk politics, and for the love of all that’s holy, don’t argue on Facebook.ā€ But I think we’re past the point where that works. I don’t understand some things, and I suspect you don’t fully understand my perspective either. I genuinely believe we’d all be better off if we talked—really talked. If Facebook isn’t the place, fair enough. Email me. Call me. Let’s even get dinner with the goal of having these conversations. Because they’re important.

I need to be honest: when it comes to our current political situation, I feel betrayed. Many of you are the people who raised me, who taught me how to follow Christ. You’re my people. (And for context, if you don’t know me in real life, I’m the stereotypical Conservative Christian woman—I’m a white, rural Republican from West Virginia. I hold traditional views on marriage and gender. I’ve been married 25 years. I homeschooled. I don’t drink, curse, or do drugs.)2

And I am deeply dismayed.

You taught me in the ’90s not to trust politicians without character. You taught me that a man who lies, mocks, and disgraces his office should not lead.3Ā You taught me to vote my conscience—which is why I didn’t vote for Trump, even back in 2016. Back then, many of you said, ā€œHe’s a baby Christian.ā€4

That was nearly a decade ago.

True new Christians grow—remember that parable about the seed and the soil? You taught me the fruits of the Spirit to watch for—love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.5Ā Please help me understand: do you honestly see those fruits being modeled now? Not just by the president, but by the broader movement? I see crosses worn publicly and prayers posted online—but I also see open contempt, hatred, mockery, aggression, pride, and a startling lack of self-control.

Don’t tell me you’re a Christian with your T-shirts or jewelry. Show me you’re a Christian by your love.

Which brings me to what started all of this: how we’re talking about immigrants.

One of you shared a meme saying you voted for Trump to ā€œtake out the trash.ā€ Please—help me understand. Are we talking about people? Because the kind of things we throw away as trash are rotten, disgusting, beyond worth. And even if you mean ā€œunnecessary clutter,ā€ I don’t believe you would ever look a person in the eye and tell them they’re unnecessary.

Yet we’re saying it about an entire group.

I’ve heard it said: ā€œIf they’re here legally, they’re fine. If not, they’re criminals and they’ve got to go.ā€ But here’s the problem—the government keeps changing what ā€˜legal’ means. People who entered the country lawfully, under one administration’s rules, have had their status revoked by another’s executive order. Refugees. Families. People still in active legal processes with legal statuses.6

Are they suddenly ā€œtrashā€?

I know we all agree violent criminals shouldn’t be on the streets. That’s not the debate. The issue is the use of blanket terms. It’s shifting laws. It’s a system that punishes people who followed the rules—and then calling concern about that ā€œfake newsā€ and ā€œthe liberal agenda.ā€ I’m not liberal by any stretch of the imagination—and please don’t even DARE suggest I don’t know how to read and research. If you know me even a little, you know them be fightin’ words to a historical novelist. šŸ˜‰

And here’s the thing: I don’t think we actually disagree on whether innocent people being brutalized is wrong. I think we agree it would be horrific—if it’s true. The question is whether we’re willing to believe uncomfortable truths, or whether we drown them out because they don’t fit our narrative. History gives us sobering examples of what happens when Christians choose the latter.

I’ll offer this about myself, since I’m asking for honesty from you. Last year, when Roe was overturned, I went looking for data to prove my side right. Instead, I found evidence that strict abortion laws increase abortions. I didn’t like it—but I had to reckon with it. I didn’t change my belief that life is sacred. I changed my conclusion about the system I thought would protect it.7

That’s what I’m asking for here—not a change of core values, but a willingness to examine whether the systems we support are actually producing the good we say we want.

I am not here to pick a fight. Conflict literally makes me feel sick to my stomach, and I’ve got enough of that dealing with chemo. šŸ˜‰ I’m here because I believe something is broken in the unity of the Church, and I don’t think silence fixes it.

I believe we still share core principles. I believe our disagreements are about how to live them out. And I believe we owe it to each other—as Christians, as friends, as family—to talk honestly, humbly, and without name-calling or fear.

I’ve laid my heart on the table. Please tell me where I’ve misunderstood you. Please correct me where I’m wrong. Let’s start a real conversation—and see where we can go from here.

Footnotes:

1 See my post ā€œA Time to Speakā€ (https://www.roseannamwhite.com/2026/01/a-time-to-speak.html)

2 To be totally accurate, this is my ā€œhistoricalā€ place, where I’m coming from, what informs and shapes my opinions. Because of what I go on to explain, I’ve undergone a lot of change. And am really just trying to disentangle my identity from ANY identity politics. Again, see the same post mentioned above.

3 I was born in 1982, so the ā€œeraā€ I best remember from my childhood is the Clinton era. In my particular circles, I remember many conversations about how a president should not even let himself be impeached but should rather resign if it comes down to that, to keep from disrespecting the office of President. That it didn’t matter what Clinton did for the economy, because he was not a man of character. As I approached my eighteenth year (in 2000, if you don’t feel like doing the math) when I would register to vote, I had been 100% taught to vote my conscience based not just on political issues but on the politicians. Not because any political candidate would ever be perfect (we all know that’s impossible), but because someday I will have to stand before God and answer for what my vote supported and what they did as public servants. Yeah, it’s a lot of pressure, LOL.

4 ā€œJames Dobson Says Paula White Led Donald Trump to Jesus Christā€ (https://www.christianpost.com/news/james-dobson-says-paula-white-led-donald-trump-to-jesus-christ.html) This article was quoted as the reason many people I know in real life felt ā€œpermissionā€ to vote for Trump.

5 In Matthew 7:16-20, Jesus tells us we will know believers by the fruit they produce. In Galatians 5:22-23, Paul lists that fruit.

6 Sharing statements from a Christian ministry devoted to refugees that a trusted friend has volunteered with in Minneapolis, Arrive Ministries. This is their Jan 20, 2026 post.

7 I talk a bit more in-depth about this in my post ā€œGrappling.ā€ https://www.roseannamwhite.com/2025/05/grappling.html

Word of the Week – Human

Word of the Week – Human

Did you know thatĀ human means “of the earth”? Yep!

The word traces its roots most immediately back to Latin, in whichĀ humanus had the same meaning it does today: “pertaining to man.” (Human entered English in the mid-1400s with that same meaning.) But the word also implies those things we add an -e to the word for (humane): “learned, refined, civilized, philanthropic.”

But in the case of this word, even the Latin has roots that go further back, all the way to the first recorded languages, that give us (dh)ghomon — literally “of the earth, earth-being,” in opposition to the gods, who are of the heavens. We see a similar relationship in the Hebrew betweenĀ adam (“man”) andĀ adamah (“earth”).

Human rights has been a phrase since 1650;Ā human being since about 1670.Ā Human interests is from 1779, andĀ human resources is from 1907–though at the time, it was used by Christians in the same way we useĀ natural resources. Using it for the name of a personnel management division didn’t follow until the late 1970s.

Word Nerds Unite!

Read More Word of the Week Posts

Health Update Post Infusion 1

Health Update Post Infusion 1

I had my first infusion for what I’ve been thinking of as my “cancer blocker treatment” on January 7, so today, over two weeks later, I figured it would be a good time to update you on how I’m doing.

These infusions are NOT full chemo. They’re somewhat similar to treatments I had after surgery in 2024, going into May of 2025, and with those, I had zero side effects. So it’s been my hope and prayer that I would respond similarly with these. These, however, are notĀ quite the same and do include a sizable list of possible side effects–most of which are things like stomach issues and thinning hair, but the serious one is a lung condition. (I DEFINITELY appreciate prayers that I don’t experience any serious ones!)

I’ll admit I got a little emotional when I went in on the 7th and my doctors were refilling my anti-nausea meds…and when the infusion had pre-meds for anti-nausea as well. Because I know that when I was on chemo, I felt nauseousĀ every day. Every day from mid-May until the end of August. And y’all, I doĀ not want to feel sick every day for the next year, so that hit me hard. Hopefully I won’t, but I did definitely get some of that belly-upset in the days immediately following the infusion. No vomitting or anything, so praise God for that…but about 8 days of feeling crummy, and seriously exhausted for the first 2 or 3. As in, sit down to read after dinner and fall asleep instead, which IĀ never do.

The bright side was that I went in with a cold, but the steroids they gave me opened my nose up and helped me get over it, LOL. I’ll take my wins wherever I can!

I was also warned that I’m very likely to feel more tired than usual in general. Which isn’t great, given that I have 7-8 books to write this year, so prayers are VERY much appreciated for me on the energy front. One of my big goals for the year is to figure out how to rebalance my schedule to allow for more, better time for writing, which will likely mean taking time from my design schedule. Prayers for wisdom in how to juggle all those things greatly appreciated too!

They do also consider me to be immune-compromised while on this treatment, so I’ll be going back into “careful” mode, masking in crowds and avoiding anyone I know is sick.

But my oncologist did also make it VERY clear that his goal is to get me off this treatment as quickly as possible. It will still likely be a year of infusions (though likely with a break in there for my next reconstruction surgery), but he does NOT want me to be on this indefinitely, and that’s music to my ears.

As for that next surgery…so my initial reconstruction isn’t doing so well, and radiation is no doubt to blame. It can (and clearly did) damage the whole area, not just the skin but the muscles and everything else in there. In my case, my right side has tightened, meaning daily pain. The area itself is still always sore and sometimes outright painful, and even my neck/shoulder muscles have been effected. When I last saw my PT and told her that my hand was tingly, we quickly determined it was from the muscles in my neck and shoulder. When we finished the diagnostic exercises that verified that and she got to work on it, it earned a “Dang, girl!” LOL. So…yeah. I’ve been doing the exercises she gave me, but I still get a tingly hand every couple days and frequently either wake up or end my day with super tight neck/shoulder muscles that result in a splitting headache.

On Monday, I had an appointment with my surgeon, who agrees that our next step should be to remove the current reconstruction and do the deep-tissue method, which uses belly fat/skin to reshape the breasts. This is where I wanted to end up eventually, I was just hoping to defer it to “down the road.” Because I’ll be honest–I’m tired of surgeries, LOL. And timing this one is tricky. My oncologist will have to clear it, and when I spoke to him about the possibility on the 7th, he said that if my scans in March are clear, then he will be comfortable pausing the infusions while I undergo and recuperate from surgery.

Because it’s a big one. It’s long and complicated, and that means recovery is too, requiring a solid eight weeks, from those I’ve spoken to who have had it. My oncologist (a) wouldn’t want me dealing with side effects from infusions while also dealing with this recovery and (b) chemo can in fact slow and interfere with recovery in general. So there we go.

As of today, I feel good. But the cycle begins again next Thursday…so prayers are very much appreciated, and I thank you all so much for them!

Word of the Week – Trend

Word of the Week – Trend

As I was debating what word to highlight today, I thought, “Well, let’s see what’s trending on Etymonline right now…” Then I thought, “Wait! What about trend?”

And here we are. šŸ˜‰

Did you know thatĀ trend is actually a nautical word? It dates from 1590 but was used primarily for things like rivers and coasts, in discussion of the direction in which they ran. It’s from the Old English wordĀ trendan, which means “to roll, to turn.” The Old English, in turn, was taken from a proto-Germanic root. It shares this root with other “round” words in other languages today, like the DutchĀ trent, which means “circumference,” and the Danish trind, which means “round.”

It wasn’t until the 1860s that the very physical meaning began to be used metaphorically of things like opinions that “tend toward a particular direction.” I had no idea it was so new!

Word Nerds Unite!

Read More Word of the Week Posts

Given to Tears

Given to Tears

In my P&P groups, we have several members who “process through tears.” A phrase I’ve always been familiar with, because I have many friends and family members who do the same.Ā 

I’ve never been much of a crier. When I was a young teenager, we got the news that my grandfather had cancer, and while the rest of my family cried, I…couldn’t. Instead, I went back to my room and wrote a poem called “Why Do I Smile?” This is, in a nutshell, very typical of me. I don’t process through tears. I process throughĀ words. Not the speaking of them, but the writing of them. It’s not to say tears don’t ever come–they do. But through most of my adult life, I cried maybe twice a year. Sometimes in grief, from a loss. Sometimes in emotional pain. Once in a while in frustration.

Cancer has changed that for me. Specifically, thisĀ second round has changed it for me. Since last October, I’ve cried more than in the last decade combined. I cry when I feel my friends’ pain. I cry when I’m struck by the beauty of our Lord. I cry when I think about the future. I cry when I’ve disappointed someone. I only have to open my spirit to the Lord, and tears fill my eyes. On the one hand, this is very unlike me.

On the other, to exist in this state of emotional rawness is its own kind of blessing.

I’ll be honest. 2026 got off to a rough start for me. 2025 was ending well in a lot of ways, I thought. I’d spent Christmas week writing a fantasy novella as a sort of vacation, and I had a blast with it. I started it the Monday before Christmas and finished the Tuesday following. I felt soĀ aliveĀ with story that I thought something along the lines of, “I can just do this every day. Just pour it all out in writing, get all those books on my calendar done in no time.”

Then came New Year’s Eve. The day ended with an email that hurt. That made it clear we’d disappointed someone, let them down, that we had failed. That was my final note of the year, and I’ll admit it. I wasn’tĀ just hurt–I was angry. Why,Ā why did this person have to send this email at 5pm on New Year’s Eve? Why couldn’t it have waited for Monday? To be clear, I’m not contesting her points. They were valid. But to send it at that moment felt spiteful to me.

And I crashed. I woke up on New Year’s Day upset with the world and everyone in it. I woke up crying tears of frustration. I tried to pour it all out to God, and I sounded like a whiny toddler, proclaiming, “I hate everything!” This isĀ very unlike me. And to give myself a little grace, I’m sure it was due in large part to the migraine that struck, and the fact that I felt close to vomiting all day. I took an unplanned two-hour nap, cancelled the day’s dinner plans (because even smelling the bread I’d made for it made me feel nauseous), and curled up with a book.

And I cried. That day, and into the second. I cried because this wasn’t how I wanted to start my year. This wasn’t how I wanted to feel. I dug around inside myself and just couldn’t grab hold of the grace I knew I needed, the forgiveness, the peace. All I could find was the hurt. All I could find were the tears.

But you know what? That’s okay. There have been so, so many times over the years when IĀ wished I could cry. When I longed for that emotional release, but I couldn’t dig it up. When whatever it is in my makeup that makes me tend toward smiles and optimism no matter what just wouldn’t let go, even when IĀ needed to deal with emotions.

Now, I found those tears. And I let them come. I let out the frustration, I let out the hurt, I let out the disappointment in myself. I still didn’t process through tears like my friends do. I still needed the words to really work through it.

But the tears…they’ve become a sort of magnifier for me. Through them, I can see the world a little differently. They’ve become a sort of reminder of baptism, an anointing almost. A reminder that He cleansed me. He made me anew. He made me whole. He washed away my sins, and He’ll continue to work in me. Continue to wipe away those smudges.

Will the tears continue for this veteran-non-crier? I have no idea. Maybe so–maybe the rest of my life, I’ll be one of those people who cry whenever I’m moved. That would be fine. Or maybe as I put cancer behind me again (my prayer!), my usual way will reassert itself. That would be fine too.

What I know is this: In this year that began with tears, my prayer is that they water my heart. Soften the soil of it. Nurture the seeds that the Lord has planted inside me, so that I can bear whatever fruit He wants to bring forth. I pray that these tears make me more sympathetic, more understanding, more generous, more kind. I pray they make me a better friend. A better person. A better Christian. More like Him.

Sometimes, we’re told that Jesus was moved with compassion. But we’re also told that Jesus wept. Even when He knew what He was about to do, even when He knew that this death of his friend would be reversed in glory, He stillĀ felt it. He still mourned it. He still cried.

Maybe, like “classic” me, you’re not given to tears. Maybe, like “new” me,Ā  you are. However you tend to process your emotions, I pray that in the year to come, as the world becomes ever more divided, ever more given to outrage, ever harsher, that we can become softer. Gentler. More loving. And always ready to grow in Him, like those seeds buried in the ground, just waiting to spring forth once they receive that life-giving water.