Dear Donald Trump

I could go all furry, fire, big foul mouthed, hot blooded and preach truths, but playing into the game is too easy.

I refuse, Mr. Trump. I refuse.

I will not justify my existence or that of some of the people I love most on the planet to you or anyone else anymore. Those days are over. Anyway, it’s clear that the beauty of these stories would be lost on an empty headed beast such as yourself.

Your polemic was careless, dramatic and callous. I was shaken and I am still offended, but I’ve settled, I’ve pulled my panties back out of my butt.

Please Mr. Trump, don’t fear the endless stream rapists and drug dealers you swear Mexico is sending to the U.S. You’re too far removed to ever be bothered or affected by them; don’t lose any sleep over it. No, no, when you’re rich, you don’t have to worry about petty crime.

You don’t have to worry about your family being ripped apart for searching out a better, more financially stable life. You don’t worry about being unarmed and shot by the police, yes, you lead a privileged life, don’t you?

However, Mr. Trump, you do have something to worry about.

You have to worry about me.

You have to fear me and my tribe. But mostly, fear me, I am your great danger.

Fear me, because I am a young, clever Mexican woman looking to get one degree, then another, and maybe even many multiple others. I was going to stop at a Bachelor’s degree, but your comments made me hungry. I want success, I want more formal education, I want blood now, yes, I want your blood. I want to show you what it is to be truly successful, not with something as vulgar, common and miserable as money. Though I admit, money is incredibly useful to live comfortably; to buy convenience, yours has even purchased you power, but not dignity and certainly not respect.

All those funds and still you fail miserably at so many things- like knowing what it means to keep your mouth shut, or knowing that inflammatory, racist soundbites may be good for hype, not so much longevity or being taken seriously.

You can pass off your own bigoted ideas as gospel truth, but the world can and will call you out on it. You have spilled like hot garbage over the TV, radio, printed media, we all know it’s not because we actually care, but because you purchased the time.

I actually happened to be in Mexico when I heard your commentary. I was sitting in the kitchen, having dinner with my parents, watching the news as is our custom. Then your face splashed across the TV and your rant began:


When Mexico sends its people, they’re not sending their best. They’re not sending you. They’re not sending you. They’re sending people that have lots of problems, and they’re bringing those problems with us. They’re bringing drugs. They’re bringing crime. They’re rapists. And some, I assume, are good people. But I speak to border guards and they tell us what we’re getting. And it only makes common sense. It only makes common sense. They’re sending us not the right people.

My stomach filled with boulders, and they traveled to my shoulders, my heart indignant, I felt humiliated in my own home; my eyes glittered before the arrival of hot, bitter tears. I looked over at my father. He looked straight ahead, saying nothing.

My father was born in Mexico. He is neither a rapist nor a drug dealer, and gave many years of his life as an upstanding person and later became a U.S. citizen. He is proud and happy of his time spent in Lansing, Michigan. My brothers were born in Mexico City. They bravely served the U.S. armed forces in Iraq and Kuwait. They too, are upstanding men, also far cries from rapists or drug dealers. In my friend’s kitchen, weeks after your speech, I must force myself to hold my head high, to keep my gaze steady-though I feel like a wilted rose inside-when my friend tells me your careless catch phrases were big news even over in Africa when he was visiting. Africa! Imagine! Mexicans on the news in AFRICA! And all because you said we were criminals! Wow!


The polls show you in big numbers. Congratulations, Mr. Trump. It may feel like you’re riding high now, what “leading across the board” and all that. With the congratulations, I extend a sincere and humble thanks. You’ve done something most inspirational with your despicable commentary and you don’t even know it yet. I’m hungry for my goals now, and nothing but reaching them will bring me repose. You’re a joke, a punchline. No amount of assets or cash money can make you more than an overpriced clown in a business suit with a bad spray tan and a shitty toupee.

I’ll see you at the top, Mr. Trump, and I’m bringing my educated, misfit community of all colors with me.

At this very moment we are busy redefining the world you are quickly becoming obsolete in. We are your great danger, sir. We are picking up books, we are writing our stories, we are creating history.

We may even be digging you a grave, because that is where pathetic worms like you belong.

All of my limp indifference,

Esperanzita

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