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I Don't Want to Talk About Trump

Because if I do, I get angry. And not that brief wave that can be dismissed with a roll of the eye, it's that deep flash I get when someone cuts me off, and I yell from my car and wave my middle finger in the air, and suddenly feel blind with rage. I don't know what I would do if one of his racists cult followers yelled something at me. I don't think I would be able to take the high road as many of the people we see on social media videos have done. 

I don't want to talk about Trump, because if I do, I start to feel like there is no goodness left in the world. Because if you see the news a 91-year-old man just got beat by a brick by a woman and was told to "go back to your country. While Trump did not make people racists, that's always been around, he gave them a disgusting platform that excuses their behavior. A black man can't wear socks to the pool without a woman calling the police. You know those sock bombs are awfully dangerous, or maybe he was going to pull out a tiny tiny tiny gun.  Newsflash, I was here first racist prick motherfuckers. 

I don't want to talk about Trump, because I see his fucking smug orange face on TVs at the gym. I see him on flashes of local news. I'm glad I don't have cable because his face makes me want to vomit. My stomach physically turns. He makes me ill. Viscerally and miserably ill. 

I  don't want to talk about Trump, because if I do, I get scared. I get a cold fear that no one is doing anything about an obviously ill man. I mean Elton fucking John comments? WTF? What was that? Are people so blinded by money and self-interest that this is really the leader of the "greatest" country on earth? Do you see how that is an oxymoron? The United States is a world laughing stock and if we look at history, it is the beginning of the end. We are the next Rome and Greece. Rome did not fall in one day either. 

I don't want to talk about Trump, because if I do, I am in disbelief that I know people who voted for him out of fear of Clinton. I'm not sure if they thought armies of officers were going to break down their doors and steal their AR-15's, but they are okay with immigrants being separated and put into camps. They are okay with the war against people of color. If you are brown, I wonder how long you'll have that AR-15, sir?

I don't want to talk about Trump, because if I do I hate my fellow brown peeps who support this crazed lunatic.  I want to ask people of color who voted for him if all the religious pro-life beliefs apply to the people living in camps or being attacked, or is it just a cluster of fucking cells they care about. I want to ask if they really think they will be accepted by those Make America Great Again people? All they see is your fucking brown, black, yellow, etc skin pendejos. 

I don't want to talk about Trump, because if I do, I have to admit that I am now weary when I am around a group of white people. While I've encountered micro-aggressions, "Where did you learn to speak English so well?" I've never been told to go back to my country.  I've never been called spick or a wetback. Always a social person, I now find my guard up when a white person starts up a conversation with  me. Do they want to lure me away and beat me? Are they going to call the police on me? So far, the conversations have somehow lead to an apology of some sort for their MAGA counterparts. I hope this is a trend. 

I don't want to talk about Trump, because if I do, I can't stop. It snowballs into this! This angry, hopeless, fucked up post. It also makes me ashamed of my home. This past December while in Colombia, I had to apologize on behalf of my country because a bartender we'd struck up a conversation asked if the U.S. really hated Latinos so much. 

Finally, I don't want to talk about Trump, because for the next thirty days while I travel, if anyone asks where I am from, I feel tempted to lie for the first time and tell them I am Mexican or Colombian, or a Citizen of the World.

 'Merica is the frat boy douche bag at the party right now, and everyone wants him to leave, he just doesn't know it, yet. 


 

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