Dear America

Dear America,

It took me a while to write this because I am at a loss for words. I am angry. I am pissed off at you. This is just saying the least. Even though I am angry and pissed off, I am certainly not shocked. Why? Because I know you too well, that’s why.

I’ll have to tell you something that’s a bit contradictory; you see, while I’m not shocked, I am certainly surprised. Here lies the paradox of this letter: I am surprised because even though I know you too well, a small part of me held on to the belief that you have changed. But, like you have done for the past four-hundred-and-something years, you lied to me. You lied about how much you’ve progressed, how much you’ve changed. You made me comfortable with all that progress talk. I’ll give you that.

You see, America, you ain’t shit. You ain’t ever been shit. I have spent so much time trying to reason with you, trying to nurture you, to make you “see the error of your ways.” On November 8th, you made no error. You made a conscious, well-thought-out decision and it is one that is in response to what I have continued to beg for since we’ve been together: I want you to see me. To recognize me. You will recognize me, it just will no longer be in a way that is “respectable” for you.

You asked for something, someone, and you have gotten it. This person has promised to “make you great again.” Like I said before, you ain’t never been shit. You know this, so you need someone to validate you, to make you feel good in your ain’t-shitness. It’s what you’ve been begging for, right? Well, he’s yours now. You got him.

I now suspect, like you have done so many times, that you try and find a way to blame me for this. I rebuke it. You cannot blame me any longer, and as you love to tell me at every turn: “take responsibility for your actions.” I am asking, no, I am demanding that you do the same.

Fuck you,



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