Yes, I completely believe that he is the antithesis of human decency and American Democracy. He has, time and again, tainted the image of women and Muslims and Latinos and a plethora of other minority groups — and he has no problem doing so.
Yet, I still pray for Mr. Trump every night, and will probably do so for the rest of my life.
Wait! Don’t stop reading now. There’s only a few more paragraphs left and I promise, you’ll see my side soon.
Before Donald Trump, I had the whole post-9/11 smoggy view of the United States. I was ashamed to be Muslim because I thought too many Americans would judge me for my beliefs. They would automatically assume I had some connections to ISIS or Al-Qaeda — or my parents were crazy FOBs who oppressed me, right? Because of this, I veiled my religion within my mind’s confines.
Then, along came the man with perfect veneers and oompa loompa orange hair and bad eye make-up. What were his exact words again?
Oh, right, he called for a “total and complete shutdown” of Muslims entering the United States until “our country’s representatives can figure out what is going on,” as ABC news so beautifully sums up. How could I forget?
I put on my armor to face what I thought was ahead of me the next day. I mentally prepared myself for people who were going to say yeah, he’s right, though. But instead, I was met with completely opposite reactions of what I had anticipated.
Everyone was just as repulsed from Donnie’s statements as I was. “Just because a small group of Muslims are terrorists doesn’t mean that the entire religion is messed up. Like, what the heck, Trump?” is a common phrase I’ve heard for the past 10 months — and I couldn’t be more pleased.
My previous schemas on Americans’ perceptions of Muslims were obliterated, all in the wake of his demeaning comments.
I learned to speak up for myself, too. I stopped needing to rely on another Trump tweet shitting on Muslims to advocate for my religion. I quickly found that Trump training wheels were just a fad of the past.
In the simplest of words, it’s like when your stomach hurts so much that you have to throw up to feel better. Well, my stomach hurt for years. And then Donald Trump word-vomited, several times on national television, and I felt free.
So, Trump. Can you hear me now?
You’ve taught me that I have a voice and I deserve to use it to tell my own story, and you’ve shown me that a bountiful of other Americans are standing with me — not you.
Cheers Donald, and feel free to drop out anytime until Nov. 8.