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Bitter, Without the Sweet

by Theo O'Brien 11 months ago in trump

by Theo O'Brien

Normally, most letters begin with "Dear," but I find you anything but, Mr. Trump. So, hi there. Or, bye there, I guess. Never have more satisfying words fallen out of my fingers and into this letter. Mr. Trump, my name is Theo. I'm 21 years old, queer as all hell, and your government wants me dead.

To be fair, Mr. Trump, you DO want a lot of people dead. If they don't think like you, act like you, and look like you (plus or minus that iconic and most unfortunate Cheeto tint), then you want nothing to do with them. Mr. Trump, I'm writing to you as a nonbinary individual-- a trans individual, with fury in their veins, power at their fingertips, and triumph in their heart. You see, I outlasted you. WE, my trans, queer friends, outlasted you. From the moment you were first and quite sadly elected, I knew we were in danger, and no one more than the BIPOC queers among us. They are already a marginalized community, Mr. Trump, with less privilege than most, and yet you, with your bigot-tinted glasses, made everything oh so much worse. I’d compare you to the Grinch, but I wouldn’t want to hurt the Grinch’s feelings.

In 2018, only two years into this dystopian novel the world seems to be writing itself into, a New York Times article was released, titled "'Transgender' Could Be Defined Out Of Existence Under Trump Administration." Scared and alone under the covers, I read that you wanted people like me to no longer exist under Title IX. That is, we would no longer be protected (as little as we were, anyway) and the only two options would fall under the binary of M and F, no Xs to be seen and no transitioning allowed. Did you know, Mr. Trump, that 2016 is the deadliest year on record for transgender individuals? Did you know that 2017 is? Did you know that this trend continues, and that though we are only a week into the new year, it has already become the new deadliest year for us, a superlative that no one should have to win?

This letter is called “Bitter Without the Sweet,” but oh, how sweet it is to be on the other side of these 4 years, still standing, while you depart the White House under a cloud of shame. Even if you’re thicker than the cloud, Mr. Trump, I’m sure it’ll set in at some point that you lost, and then you’ll have to face us all: we who have fought against you for years and years; the black people and indigenous people and other POC, the queers, the women, the educators, the scientists. You’ll have to face the fact that WE won, that we never gave up fighting, not on the darkest days, and that we’ve triumphed over you and your… well, some may call it a “reign of terror.”

This letter is addressed to you, Mr. Trump, but I am dedicating it to everyone who fought against you as a final nail in the coffin. I am dedicating it to the hundreds of thousands of people who dared to defy you, who worked and marched and rioted and screamed every day against you. I am dedicating this letter to all of the black people who lost their lives due to police brutality, and all of the trans family we’ve lost as well, including 44 this year alone.

You may leave me with the taste of ashes in my mouth, but at least you’re leaving. Please let the door hit yourself on the way out.

Unpleasantly yours,

Theo O.

(they/them)

(and proud of that)

trump

Theo O'Brien

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