Trump's America

[Trigger warning: assault]

Dear Donald,

I would like to offer you my sincerest congratulations on your historic first (and only) term as President of the United States of America. Many men have sought immortality throughout the ages, but few have had the courage to pursue it even to the detriment of themselves, their families, their countries, and even their own self-respect. With not one, but two impeachments and nearly 400 thousand pandemic deaths (at the time of this writing) under your belt, you have successfully graffitied your name across the pages of history. America will remember you - whether it wants to or not.

I was 21 years old on the day you were elected. It was the first time I ever bought my own booze (yay, college!). My roommate and I stayed up all night awaiting the results of what we knew would be a monumental occasion - we simply couldn't believe that we were about to witness the election of the first female president. As the night dragged on and the results trickled in slowly, the reality began to sink in. Toasting our anticipated victory turned into drowning our sorrows. What had at first appeared to be a practical joke run amok was now turning into a nightmare we couldn't wake up from.

The very next morning, a girl I was close to was assaulted on campus. A group of boys grabbed her by the hair in the parking lot, held her face to their crotches, and welcomed her to "Trump's America". It would not be the last time that violence was committed in your name, but it would leave an impression on me that will last the rest of my life.

Somehow, though, life went on. Those of us young enough to not have experienced many transfers of power were assured that the constant back-and-forth was simply a way of life. Our fears were minimized, our worries ignored by those who were already jaded. I went to school and listened to my liberal professors lament the fall of democracy. I worked an eight-hour shift on the day that I would have rather been participating in the Women's March. I existed. But I did not forget.

In 2018, something amazing happened - I gave birth to my first child. I don't know what parenthood is like for you, Donald, with all your riches and notoriety, but for me, it changed everything. Talks of the future took on a new tone. Conversations that had once seemed abstract were now serious - what kind of world had we brought a child into? A page in my son's baby book commemorated life in 2018. "Who was president on the day I was born?" it asked. I ripped it out.

Motherhood did not change the way I aligned myself politically, but it did change the way I interacted with politics. With a child to think of, I would no longer jump at the thought of protests and rallies, but sitting idle was not an option either. I felt more attuned to the suffering of others than ever before. When I read about an entire city without clean water, I imagined my son going thirsty. As I watched news coverage of refugee families being separated, I imagined leaving everything behind for a better life for my child, only to have him ripped from my arms. I found myself writing letters to my representatives, finding money to donate to political causes, and speaking out against injustices. For the first time, I found that the discomfort of others no longer kept me from making my voice heard.

Your constituents have often assured me that "Obama started it", and it brings to mind children who have been caught fighting. Like a scolding mother, I say, "I don't care who started it." You see, Donald, I was in the eighth grade when Obama was elected. I was a child during previous presidencies, with little to no awareness of the world around me. Your election was the first that I was ever truly aware of. Your presidency has run parallel to my political awakening. It is possible that you were never really the problem, that you and your administration are merely the culmination of many, many years of corruption. Unfortunately for you, my generation is awake now - and you're the one caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

I am not afraid of you. You are an old man, raving at everything and nothing, and soon you will not be able to hurt anyone. I am afraid of what you leave behind, though. Less than a month before you are to leave office, you have managed to incite insurrectionist violence at our nation's capital by the very people who claim to be the most dedicated patriots. That is as impressive as it is terrifying.

Social media platforms and major news networks alike have been forced to prevent you from addressing the nation, not because you are an impressive or terrifying figure - do you own a mirror? - but because of what your rhetoric incites in your followers. You have set precedents during your single term that force us to question the very nature of Freedom of Speech and still you persist. By this point, it seems as if anyone else would be keeping their head down and waiting to collect their pension, but you continue to prove again and again what a truly desperate man is capable of.

I don't know what the next term has in store. I don't even claim to know what the next week has in store. A pandemic continues to rage. The investigation into your insurrection is still underway. The nation cannot yet even begin to heal from the damage your term has caused, and yet I force myself to exhale in relief because it is almost over.

I said before that America will remember you. If that was your goal, then you can rest easy at night knowing that you succeeded in every possible way. The fear you instilled, the hatred you spread, the damage you caused, and the lives that were lost to your ineptitude will not soon be forgotten. History will remember you, Donald, but if I were you, I would not breathe your sigh of relief just yet.

History will remember you, but it will not be kind to you.