A love letter to the USA
Dear USA,
I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. I’ve been reflecting on the good times we’ve had together and the times in which I wasn’t sure where we stood. It seems like you’re going through a rough patch and I have to admit that instead of being there for you, I checked out of our relationship since November of 2016. Today, on your birthday, I wanted to reach out and tell you that even though we don’t always see eye to eye, you matter and you’re loved.
It must be really hard to hit 242 years old and realize how much there’s still to learn about life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. We tend to think of maturity as a destination, a level of consciousness that should increase as we get older. You would think that by now, both of us should know better. But if I’ve learned anything in the last couple of years is that there is no such destination. There is only the journey of making mistakes and learning from them. Falling and getting back up rather than following a linear path to enlightenment, whatever that means these days. I know I’ve struggled with understanding what my role in this universe is and it has taken me a while to answer to that calling. I sense that at this point in your story you’re struggling with similar questions. You seem to have lost confidence in who you are and what you mean to the world.
My darling USA, right now it may feel like things are falling apart. Families are being separated in the name of your safety. People from all over the world who turn to you for some compassion are being caged like animals to signal to others that you are no longer the nurturing adoptive mother of the tired, the poor, the homeless and tempest-tossed. You’ve lost close to 7,000 of your children to gun violence this year alone. Your friends are receding because you’re now hanging with a bad crowd and turning your back on the ones who have been loyal to you for a while. You’ve forgotten the importance of sharing and collaboration, claiming to be Miss Independent who doesn’t need anyone to live her best life. This past couple of years though have been anything but a glow up, so…we’re confused.
I know this is not exactly your fault, at this age you rely on some of your children to drive the direction of your life. Some have given up their lives for you. Fighting for your honor at home and abroad. Some, on the other hand, make daily attacks to the honor that is to be part of your family. Your daughters live in fear, expecting that the leaders of this nation will mansplain their way into their wombs. As a lady yourself, I know you see their pain. I know you understand what is like to have your body and your soul exploited for its riches and have them tossed when they no longer satisfy the insatiable thirst of the capitalist man. I know your heart cries at the images of so many of your children living in poverty and dying of loneliness, sometimes taking their own lives away. The shame you’re carrying on your shoulders is palpable but it does not have to define you.
You must be wondering how you got here. I’ve certainly asked that question of myself many times. You may find some answers if you look inwards and backwards. Your parents had so much hope for you when you were born. One nation, under God, indivisible. You have no idea how excited they were on that warm July morning over two centuries ago. Your childhood was fueled by ideals of liberty and justice for all. You were supposed to be different, better, stronger. However, your fathers had a lot of blind spots and therefore there were major flaws in the design of your life. They forgot about your mothers and the role they played in not only conceiving you but nurturing you until this day. They forgot about your parents of African descent, those who fought for your freedom and built every structure you comfortably sit on now. They forgot about their own ancestors, the brave men and women who journeyed across the world fleeing persecution, searching for a better life. They forgot that they stole these lands and that what goes around comes around. They forgot their faith and God’s command to love thy neighbor. Because of those “misdemeanors” dear USA, your life has been filled with war, sometimes with yourself, sometimes with others. Never forget about those difficult times, why they happened and what you promised yourself would be different after each battle. Fall and get back up again. That’s the only way to grow.
I don’t mean to remind of your struggles to make you feel bad. Rather, I look to provide you with some compassion. There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you and I just want to make sure you know we see and salute you. All that you’ve been through, from terrorism to imperialism has shown the world how mighty you are. The land of the free and the home of brave whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight has refused to believe, time and time again, that the bank of justice is bankrupt. You remind us that under your roof, we’re one people. We don’t turn back and we leave no one behind. We pull each other up and we go high when they go low. Never forget that amazing grace that others have learned to admire. Never forget who you are: among many, one.
On this date and at this time it is important for me to say thank you. Thank you for adopting a regular degular shmegular girl from Santo Domingo and putting the world at my fingertips. While this is the worst our relationship has been since I joined your family, I’m still very clear you’re a breathing trophy. Today, I recommit to you and your wellness. To using my voice to remind my peers that we’re the generation that can’t afford to wait because the future started yesterday and we’re already late. We will get past this. We will start a sequel. We’ll get past the orange man in the white house built by black people. And one day we will raise a glass to real freedom, something they can never take away.
Happy birthday USA. In you I trust.
Love,
Juli
