Many Americans are surprised at the state of the current administration and the divisiveness which plagues the nation. Even on the Odyssey articles debate: Is kneeling disrespectful or a right? Are liberals the problem, or are conservatives? But none of these things surprise me.

Two days before the inauguration, I arrived in Washington D.C. with forty other kids from my school; already roads had been blocked off, and voices rang out around the city; some of protest and others of joy. The city was divided; I saw one man stand before the Lincoln monument, holding a sign above his head that detested to the soon to be president. A few feet away from a family in matching M.A.G.A hats posed for a picture. One stranger on the road ranted to our tour group about how Trump had stolen the presidency; a different man shouted that we were going to witness the inauguration of the greatest president in history.

The day of the inauguration began with a several-hour wait on a D.C street; my class was a mixed group of individuals: some supporters, some opponents— but I think there was a sense of excitement present in us all. Regardless of how we felt politically, we were witnessing history— and in those early hours, that was enough to distract from the dread which had plagued many members of our group from the day Trump broke the blue wall.

Flashing forward a few hours, we stood on a platform, close enough to see the white house but nothing else. A cop was always within eyeshot, and the silhouettes of snipers peaked out from the rooftops; in that moment I felt simultaneously the safest I’d ever been and the least.

But despite the security presence, before the speeches began it was strikingly unpolitical; the air smelled distinctly of barbecue and weed, and around me, people talked about their mornings, the rain or the peculiar choice in music blasting over the loudspeaker. But, the moment the speeches began the aura of the crowd changed. It grew tighter, and tenser. Opposition was met with glares and calls to leave; support with sighs and complaints. On that day I’d chosen to wear a shirt expressing my beliefs— the woman next to me complained to her husband about it for the entirety Roy Blunt’s opening remarks.

Politics have the ability to drive a wedge between people; to create tension and anger where there had previously been none. But there was one thing that did surprise me; speech after speech brought roars from the crowd; not of praise, but impatience. I couldn’t hear most of Mike Pence’s swearing-in because sections of the crowd had begun to chant “Trump.” Like a disgruntled concert audience during a bad opening act, they had no interest in what else was being done that day, despite any importance.

By the end of the inauguration, the city was already divulging into chaos. For over an hour we sat on the floor of the D.C holocaust museum, unable to leave because of rioting in nearby streets. And when we did, we were met with closed roads and a police presence almost matching that we’d seen inside of the inauguration.

I watched people turn on each other in that crowd— strangers berating on another's beliefs, wishing harm upon those who thought differently. I saw streets go from the most congested I’d ever seen, to almost empty because words aren’t enough for people to overcome their anger. I thought going to the inauguration would teach me about politics—instead, I saw the divisiveness it causes in a way I’d never seen. A divisiveness which has only strengthened in the nine months since the election.