Dear Mr. Trump

[deartrump]

Dear Mr. Trump,

You are not my president.

Dear Mr. Trump,

Respect is something you earn. It cannot be given. It cannot be won.

Dear Mr. Trump,

Have you ever been afraid to walk alone at night?

Dear Mr. Trump,

Undocumented immigrants are not lurking in the shadows. They are members of our community. They are our neighbors, our friends, our family. They are scholars and business owners. They are human beings.

Dear Mr. Trump,

Why do they scare you?

Dear Mr. Trump,

The LGBT community does not exist to destroy our families or traditions or values or whatever else you may think. They are human beings with rights. Those rights are under attack. They need to be protected.

Dear Mr. Trump,

Everyone deserves healthcare.

Dear Mr. Trump,

Women are not objects for you to grab by the pussy. Women do not exist for your enjoyment. Women are not yours.

Dear Mr. Trump,

What even is “locker room talk?” Because last time I checked that violence doesn’t just stay in the locker room. It’s entering homes and hotel rooms. College campuses and high school hallways.

Dear Mr. Trump,

Words are as harmful as physical acts and chalking them up to “something men do in the locker room” is the root of the problem.

Dear Mr. Trump,

I have met Muslim Americans. You probably have, too. The funny thing is, Muslim Americans are just Americans. Despite what you may think, unlike you, they don’t all walk around promoting violence.

Dear Mr. Trump,

Climate change is real.

Dear Mr. Trump,

African American is not a synonym for inner city. The inner city is made up of people of all races and from all backgrounds. Poor and rich. I think you’ve been to Manhattan, after all.

Dear Mr. Trump,

“Black Lives Matter” doesn’t equate to “White Lives Don’t.” 

Dear Mr. Trump,

More guns is not the answer.

Dear Mr. Trump,

If we tell the world “America is Great” we cannot blame them for wanting to learn for themselves. America, as we know it, was founded by immigrants. My great grandparents were not born in this country. You and I have that in common.

Dear Mr. Trump,

I am scared. Not of Immigrants, People of Color or Muslims. I am scared because you have reignited a white supremacist movement so many have fought to silence. I am scared of your America. I am scared of you.

Dear Mr. Trump,

You are not my president, but I hope that maybe, behind the hate you spew, you are a man willing to learn about the things he fears. I hope that you will look out at the people whose lives are in your hands and think before you act. I hope that you can change. I hope that you will let me help you.

Until then, Mr. Trump, you do not get my vote. You do not get my respect.

Dear Mr. Trump,

You are not my president.