TULSI TAKES OATH
Scene: New Director of National Intelligence Sworn In
February 12 2025
The Capitol grounds were dusted white with the remnants of a short-lived blizzard. The White House—three weeks into a turbulent Trump return—stood stark against a muted sky. Inside the transition was still unfolding. A slow exchange of old for new.
Thirty minutes in, I regretted my surname decision—or rather, my indecision. Security couldn’t place me. I stood there freezing, unnamed, waiting for clearance to find me, silently cursing my inaction in switching to my married name. It wasn’t about feminism—it was pure laziness. The line was too long that day. I never anticipated the issues dual names might bring. And so, once again, I found myself in bureaucratic limbo, the system searching for Kraus over Reed—an ongoing inconvenience entirely of my own making.
After they finally cleared me, I was handed a blue pass granting access to the Oval Office, where Tulsi Gabbard’s official swearing-in was set to take place. No one explained what the color signified, and that small detail cost me exclusive access. In the confusion, I missed the opportunity to be included in the private ceremony with the president. Instead, Denise and I were redirected to the Eisenhower Executive Office Building (EEOB), a relic of Gilded Age power, where the second ceremony would unfold.
Adjacent to the White House, the EEOB looms like a grand anachronism. Originally built as the State, War, and Navy Building, its French-inspired Second Empire façade—mansard roofs, cast-iron balustrades, imposing columns—was designed to impress and intimidate. Much like the man reclaiming its halls today. Designed by Alfred B. Mullett and completed in 1888, the building has witnessed America’s shifting tides of war and diplomacy. Its Victorian grandeur remains untouched by time: marble corridors, checkered floors stretching beneath soaring ceilings, grand staircases coiling upward framed by iron and wood.
The Indian Treaty Room, once a naval library, became a stage for wartime strategy. A quick hallway Google search informed me that Herbert Hoover had temporarily relocated his office here after a fire damaged the White House in 1929, making it—for a time—the unofficial Oval Office. It was also within these walls that the Watergate scandal unraveled, where Nixon’s secret recordings became his downfall.
At the time of its construction, the building had been widely scorned. Mark Twain called it “the ugliest building in America.” President Truman labeled it “the greatest monstrosity in America.” Henry Adams deemed it Mullett’s “architectural infant asylum.” Poor Mullett—burdened by financial ruin and litigation—later resigned and, in 1890, took his own life.
Today, the EEOB has been partially repurposed as a nerve center for Trump’s deep-state purge. Elon Musk and his band of neurodivergent, t-shirt-clad tech savants—poached from Tesla, SpaceX, and X—have taken up residency, working 100-hour weeks to audit government waste, streamline intelligence, and dismantle bureaucratic rot. Once considered an emblem of excess, the building has become a war room for a new kind of disruption. Revenge of the nerds. They work under constant threat—death threats, political pressure, ceaseless scrutiny—and every firing or discovery is instantly broadcast across X.
In contrast to the chaotic energy that defines this new administration, Tulsi Gabbard offers a calming counterbalance. She is the ideal politician in the sense that what you see is what you get. No off-script grandstanding. No performative outrage. No thirst for viral applause. She is who she is—no matter the stage or situation. I tell people this when they ask why I support her so staunchly. From what I’ve seen, she doesn’t make mistakes or let her ego outshine her intentions. She is unwavering in purpose and motivated by effect.
In the Oval Office that day, Trump called her “a courageous and often lonely voice” and urged her to “just stay the way you are.” He continued, “She’ll be clear-eyed and focused on the threat of radical Islamic terrorism—and lots of other threats too. Threats from within.”
Tulsi’s life has always been shaped by spirituality and civic service. Her mother is a practicing Hindu; her father, a Catholic who embraced yoga meditation and karma yoga. As a teenager, she felt a deep connection to Hindu philosophy — particularly the teachings of the Bhagavad Gita and its message of selfless duty, and devotion.
“My earliest memories are of the bright colors, beautiful sounds, and fragrant aromas of both Christian and Hindu celebrations,” she once recalled.
That duality gave her a foundation of faith, discipline, and duty—values that guided her into both military service and politics.
She understands the sacrifices military families make, particularly the changing role of women in combat. “These days, it’s often women in uniform—moms, wives, even grandmothers—who deploy and leave their families behind,” she has noted.
Yet her battles haven’t been purely professional.
Her resilience has been tested on multiple fronts. She survived both on-foot combat and brutal political assault from the left—only to emerge with a groundswell of unexpected praise from the right. When her name surfaced for Director of National Intelligence, support poured in. Over 250 veterans—many of them sitting members of Congress and former federal officials—publicly backed her nomination, calling her “fearless and principled.” The National Border Patrol Council, one of the country’s largest law enforcement unions, endorsed her, citing her military background and grasp of national security—particularly at the southern border. She understands the stakes.
On a personal level, she has spoken openly about her struggles with fertility, revealing that she and her husband had difficulty conceiving. “We were not successful in trying to get pregnant. For us, IVF seemed to be the only option and the last resort,” she admitted. It was a rare moment of vulnerability from a woman so often seen as unshakable—a reminder that even the strongest among us fight silent wars.
The support she received from the military community spoke to something deeper than partisan politics. Among her most vocal backers was Rep. Brian Mast (R-FL), a combat-wounded veteran who praised her leadership and integrity. Former Acting Secretary of Defense Chris Miller also threw his support behind her, recognizing her unwavering commitment to safeguarding the American people.
The Disabled Veterans PAC issued one of its strongest endorsements, emphasizing that Gabbard had the “intelligence, wisdom, and courage” to dismantle corruption within U.S. intelligence agencies.
“She has the insight, experience, and fortitude to identify, dismantle, and prevent corruption from infiltrating our intelligence agencies,” the group stated.
These endorsements carried unique pull because they weren’t about political maneuvering. The men and women who had served alongside her saw her as one of their own—someone who understood the cost of war, the burden of leadership, and the gravity of national security.
More than anyone in Trump’s circle, Tulsi has earned the confidence of those who have spent their lives protecting this country. To them, she isn’t just a politician—she’s a fighter. And fighters don’t back down.
The seats in our room were filled with her close friends, church members, gym partners, and fellow veterans—brothers and sisters in combat, bound by shared discipline and war-forged loyalty. Traits that have become synonymous with her brand. Her audience mirrors her principles—old-school independence, discipline, and an unflinching approach to leadership. She exemplifies a rare blend of selflessness and courage—qualities nearly extinct at the highest levels of government. This is why people like myself, and more recently Roger Stone, predict she will be our first female president.
As for wardrobe: Tulsi arrived in a fitted, sleek black suit—a notable contrast to the crisp white getup she wore to her confirmation hearings when she was still auditioning for the role. Then, she had presented herself as the clean slate, the bridge, the disciplined outsider still playing within the system’s unspoken rules. Now, in black, she was something else entirely—steeled, certain, post-illusion. The transformation was as aesthetic as it was symbolic: White had been the question, black was the answer. The shade of finality, of unsentimentality, of someone who had seen the game for what it was and no longer cared to pretend otherwise.
Also in the room: Meghan McCain and her husband, Ben Domenech—a compelling footnote the media failed to highlight properly. Based on the conflict rooted in these bloodlines, the scene bordered on Shakespearean drama.
How did it go unnoticed?
Few expected a McCain to step inside a Trump White House. The rift between Meghan’s family and Trump, of course, runs deeper than politics—it’s personal, calcified by years of mutual disdain and resentment. I’ve been told that, of everyone in Trump’s circle, it’s Don Jr. who most understands the rift, relating to Meghan as a fellow politician’s child, knowing the challenges to evolving independently in their shadow.
Most of us figured her presence in public was unlikely, even as a loyal friend. Though, Marla Maples was hopeful. She told me one night on the steps of a senator’s home after meeting Meghan that she had hoped for reconciliation. She adored Meghan and trusted that her ex would come to value her as she deserved—with enough push and when the timing was right.
And yet, there she was—John McCain’s daughter. A good soldier in the front row, beaming with pride as her friend—godmother to her daughter—claimed her new title after weeks of tense uncertainty surrounding her confirmation.
The media also failed to note the dedication between these two women—that it was Meghan who pushed and promoted Tulsi relentlessly onscreen and off, writing letters and urging senators to confirm her in their vote.
Of course she would be there.
The atmosphere in the room matched the emotional weight of weddings, graduations, and christenings—any ritual marking a ceremonial passage. As Tulsi stepped forward, hand on the Bible her husband held, with Pam Bondi as the orator, she looked like she was exactly where she was meant to be. Another divine purpose was fulfilled.
As she raised her right hand and took the oath, her sister, hand over her heart, sat with tears in her eyes. During her tenure in congress V had moved to DC to serve as protection for her Tulsi. The outsider. The reformer. Now, the nation’s top intelligence officer.
A minute into her speech I did something I rarely do. I put my phone down and stopped recording.
The moment—publicly tracked yet privately absorbed—felt too pure to capture.
I am sentimental at heart. Occasionally, it gets the better of me.
Later that evening we found ourselves at a dinner at a local vegan restaurant hosted by Meghan and Ben. Tulsi made her way through the room, pausing at each table to personally thank guests. At our far end, Abraham lingered, reflecting on the week’s events. It had been stressful. They were both relieved to be on the other side of it.
Yes, the Bernie Sanders betrayal stung. His exaggerated thumbs-down vote had been hard to watch—especially for Tulsi, who had once championed his cause at great personal and political risk. In 2016, she had defied the Democratic machine, resigning as vice chair of the Democratic National Committee to endorse him, a decision that severed her from the party’s inner circle. She had taken the hits, sacrificed her standing, and defended him when it mattered. And yet, when the time came, he offered no such loyalty in return.
As for the new (but old) commute, Abraham admitted it would be taxing. Tulsi would make the trek from DC to Texas on her off days, where home renovations, along with photography and film making, would remain Abraham’s focus and quiet refuge. He spoke with a reverence familiar to me—about peeling away years of lacquer to uncover the raw beauty of salvaged floorboards, the kind of work that requires patience and an acceptance of imperfection. As someone married to a carpenter who gutted our home over a seven year period to build it the way we saw it, I know it well.
Mid-way through our meal, the guest next to me inquired about my invite. Was I there as friend or media? After long pause, I answered, “Both.”
After the bill was paid, Tulsi came over to thank us. Glancing at the plates in front of us—remnants of bold colored beet creations and bean-based concoctions chosen in honor of her clean dietary preferences—she laughed. “Alright, you guys are free to go get the pizza you’ve been craving,” she teased.
Days later, after the celebration surrounding RFK’s swearing-in wrapped, we left the city still frozen in its season of transition. As we drove past the Capitol, its lights burned bright against the pale dusk—a skyline at once familiar, yet subtly altered. Old power structures eroding; new alliances forming. Everything and everyone, in their own way, being remade.
The exiles returning—not as outcasts, but as architects of something new.
I’m leaving all my gripes behind for the X Democrats like Tulsi who are now on board with President Trump…. I’m having some faith that whatever they were doing in their past, people like Tulsi Gabbard are going to fight against the atrocities that her former party has perpetrated against the American citizen. And I pray to God that she helps uncover the biggest money, laundering, and one of the most disasters, ever committed by a government on another country, which is Ukraine by the United States, Democratic Party, and a lot of Republicans… I hope she goes all the way back to Obama, and all his cronies in the military complex, the ones that Bill Clinton literally funneled trillions of dollars into under the guise of cutting back bureaucratic agencies…. It is beyond comprehension that most people have no idea about, what is actually happening in Ukraine would it really is… who Vladimir Zelinsky is, how Biden, Obama, Antony Blinken and even media moguls, people in the Board of Education, all kinds of agencies and federal officials ex presidents, all working together, make sure Putin could go into Ukraine, and create a multi year war so the Democrats could steal trillions from the federal reserve and the taxpayers and line their pockets with cash at the expense of millions of lives people dead end displaced…. It is worse than a tragedy. It is one of the worst evils…. And then I hope these new supporters of President Trump turn their guns on the teachers unions the Board of Education, Randi, Weingarten, and all the local municipality is with school board members anybody who had anything to do with bringing sexual curriculums into the classrooms…. They should all be put in jail…. It was child sexual abuse on a national scale… just like the Riley Gaines boys in sports? Like it was unfair.? It was sex abuse against girls. It was getting boys to be naked in front of girls in their locker rooms and bathrooms…. That’s all the Democrats were concerned about that’s what the Board of Education is all about! Sexualizing and sexually abusing children.. to destroy families, prevent Kids from growing up healthy and owning property. That’s their endgame. Get kids on welfare get them medicated create school shooters full of hatred…. Hello America… I think we need more of a wake up call than DOGE exposing financial waste…. These Democrats have created murderers out of children…. They have been sexually abusing girls using trans ideology…. I can’t believe there’s not the biggest movement of like 80 million mom’s marching on capital hill and the local school boards and the schools themselves not allowing teachers to walk in those buildings anymore. Every kid should be pulled out.! And every dude should be standing behind Riley Gaines, and ending the sexual abuse to girls once and for all!
Beautiful moment. From exiles to architects as both friends and media. We all sleep better at night knowing that Tulsi is at the helm - was great to see portraits of Noem and Trump after clearing customs at the airport.