What do you mean I shouldn’t be allowed back in the US, Mr Trump? It is my home!
Dear Mr Trump,
I grew up in one of the best towns in America – Moorestown, New Jersey. Surrounded by a loving, protective family and an amazing community, I attended the best schools, made lifelong friends and married the love of my life.
My parents moved to this country carrying what every single American parent carries, the hope for an amazing future for their kids filled with countless, unimaginable opportunities.
Thanks to this country and my diligent parents, I always got way more than I ever needed. Thanks to my Christian and Jewish neighbours, I was taught tolerance, aiming high and smiling every day. Thanks to my high school classmates, I was accepted and encouraged to wear my identity on my sleeve. Thanks to my best friends, I wasn’t judged by my crazy family dynamics or the smell of fried onions coming from my backpack.
I have never faced discrimination or felt afraid walking alone in the darkest hours of sundown. I have never faced workplace bigotry nor have I ever worried about getting out of my comfort zone. This country has completed my identity; given me the confidence to walk with my head held high, inspired me to continue looking forward. But at 26, I feel afraid for the first time in my life, and I mean truly scared because I am now a mother.
It’s bad enough having to be burdened with the task of raising strong and independent girls in a world that still dances to the men’s rhapsody. To top it off, crazy masked so-called Muslims have raped an essential part of my identity. But I don’t blame them completely, Mr Trump. You see, they belong to third world nations and ideologies – they are not taught the values that you and I have been gifted. I do not blame them because violence and turmoil is all they’ve ever seen. Let me put it in simple terms for you: These peanuts don’t know better!
However, you know better, Donny. These b******* are not the real threat to our beautiful nation. It is men like YOU Mr Trump who are making life hard for our children. What did they ever do to you? What did I do to you that I am being forced to have this conversation with my four-year-old?
Mr Trump, what do you mean I’m not allowed back in the country? What do you mean I can’t go back to my childhood home? What do you mean that I can’t visit my best friend? What do you mean that I can’t take my daughter to her favourite park? With each visit back home, I am more frightened than ever. With each visit back home, I slide my scarf back another inch. With each visit back home, I feel like the people I grew up with might just turn against me. (It doesn’t help that I’m coming from Pakistan).
I feel bad for you Mr Trump. For the legacy you are leaving behind. You have disgraced America. She made you who you are today and this is how you thank her? You are forcing this nation to bleed tears as you wreak havoc. You could be using your money to do so much good, yet you have chosen the road less taken. What is it you want, Mr Trump? Because I know what I want, I want you to leave us in peace. No one is forcing you to like us, but there is no pressure for you to make our lives hell either. Seriously, no pressure, dude!
A confused mama
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