Dear Trump, I’m sorry that we don’t meet eye to eye, but I am everything that you deem unfit and unimportant. I am a woman, an immigrant, LGBTQ+, a feminist, and a journalist.
When did my womanhood become a pain for you to bare? When did it become so important for you to take away my rights to an abortion and my body but give no support to raise a child? Why do you want to halt funding to institutions of women’s health like Planned Parenthood just because one of the services that they offer is an abortion when it will affect thousands of people yearly? Why do you think I am not important enough to have these services?
During your campaign you painted a clear picture of your perception of women. We are the bodies there to be taken advantage of, to grab. We are not equal to a man in pay or in life, just 77 cents. We shouldn’t work. We bleed.
Dear Trump, you are the one with blood on your hands.
You are drenched in the blood of thousands of refugees that cannot call America their home, yet have no home to return to. No bed to lay their children to rest, no food to give their children crying from hunger pains.
I am an immigrant, but I was also privileged. I was privileged in the sense that I had a home, food, and the love of my family and my country. I never went without a meal, though I know my mother struggled to buy milk. I could go to school without the fear of air raids killing my friends. I didn’t go to bed at night with the images of the bloody dead staring at me behind my eyes.
My family went through the immigration process in the early 2000’s and even then, before 9/11, the vetting was thorough. With my 8-year-old eyes I remember the white walls and the questions. I remember my mother drilling my brothers and I about what we should say and how we should act, frightened that one small twitch could bar us from the land of opportunity we so desired and our new start.
We were set to leave in 2001 but in September of that same year the towers fell and everything changed.
My Family didn’t arrive in America until May of 2003. I’m Australian. Would you go back in time and not let me in?
America was founded on religious freedom but you are prioritizing Catholics in immigration. What if someone had prioritized religion over your ancestors?
You have the blood of LGBTQ+ youth on your wrists, where the knife sliced when life wasn’t hopeful anymore with a vice president who would shock the gay away.
Love is what makes us human, but you think that I should only feel that for the opposite sex, that I shouldn’t be able to marry the love of my life if they happen to be my own gender.
Why do you think of my love as unnatural, or ruining the sanctity of marriage when you are on your 3rd wife?
Again, I was lucky. My coming out was not met with a disgusted face and an eviction notice. I was met with a smile and a hand wiping away my worried tears.
You can’t wish the gay away. We are resilient people, we’ve had to be. I want to stop hearing about a gay man being beaten to death for kissing his boyfriend in public, or a Trans women assaulted for using the bathroom that her gender aligns with. Not by silencing the news media, but by a change in thought.
Instead we have Mike Pence, whose homophobia helps fuel the abuse.
Dear Trump, maybe the problem is that I can’t see eye-to-eye with you. I’m not trying to. I disagree with your politics. Your cabinet is the most uneducated and underqualified in history. You are xenophobic, Homophobic, Transphobic, Islamophobic, racist and sexist.
The people have spoken, We have protested, and We have cried.
You are not, and will never be my president.
You don’t even want to be.