Dear America,
I wish I could say I didn’t expect better of you.
I really wish I could, because I make fun of you all the time. I think the only people who make fun of you more, are Americans. I criticize your foreign policies and then I criticize your domestic policies. I abhor the racism in you, and the sexism you pretend isn’t there. I wish you would listen more and look before you leap and learn from your mistakes, and I hate that you don’t.
Dear America,
I don’t believe in a lot of the things that you do. I don’t believe in what you believe. I don’t believe in who you pretend to be. I don’t believe in your idea of freedom, and I don’t believe in your idea of oppression. I don’t believe in your insistence that you wage war on the world to help the rest of us. I don’t believe in your exceptionalism.
But I did believe in you.
Dear America,
I come from a country where I have never voted, and may never get to vote. In my country, voter fraud and intimidation tactics make democracy difficult, and our options for leaders are limited. You, on the other hand, are a country that is supposedly the definition of democracy.
Dear America,
I love my country with all my heart. I will never be anything but a Bangladeshi. But I did not love being a woman in Bangladesh, and so I came here.
Dear America,
You were supposed to give me a better education, better opportunities, a better life. You were supposed to let me be free. You were supposed to let me be who I want and be safe as who I am—a woman of color, a Muslim, an immigrant. You told me you would care for me as your own, as long as I kept faith in your systems and persisted.
Dear America,
Just so we’re clear, I didn’t really believe that, either.
But I must have believed some of it.
Dear America,
You convinced me that the good in you outweighed the bad. That the love in you outweighed the hate. You helped me surround myself with people who were the best of you: brave, tolerant, and kind. I have all of what you promised, at least more than I did in Bangladesh. I built a life here, and it was not without your help. I felt welcome, and away from the restrictions of my country’s society, you made me feel like I could do anything.
So is it any wonder, dear America, that I thought it all true, despite the evidence to the contrary? That I thought you were willing to fight your own bigotry? That you were (more) just, that your systems would work (better), that you were trying (harder)?
Dear America,
You made me happy. That is why I believed in you.
And so I wish I could say I didn’t expect better of you, but the truth is, I did.
I did.
But don’t worry, dear America. I won’t make that mistake again.
.
