I’m writing this right after leaving a protest against Donald Trump Jr. at the MSU Union, so I apologize if things seem a little disjointed in this writing. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt more discouraged about American politics than I do right now, and frankly, have for this entire election cycle. There was a literal chasm– a figurative wall, if you will, though that is a word I have come to hate. I stood with so many other protestors, chanting, asserting our humanity, refusing to accept the terror that is the Republican presidential nominee. And on the other side of the chasm stood a moderate-sized, persistent group of men– all men– wearing “Make America Great Again” hats and buttons, holding up signs, laughing at us, taking pictures of and with us, mocking us. I almost started crying at least five times during the course of the protest. Maybe I’m naïve for it, but I have always deeply loved this country. It has given my family and I so many opportunities– I am the daughter of immigrants who came here to ensure that my sisters and I would have a better life than they did growing up. I knew my whole life that I wanted to grow up and serve this country in whatever capacity I could, and I have been forging my path forward by deciding to study public affairs. I know our country is not perfect, in ANY way, shape, or form, but it is home, and I love it. The love that I have is what makes this election so scary for me. Particularly after this protest, I fear so deeply for our future. Our nation has worked to right many of the wrongs of our contentious history, and we toil onward eternally; however, I don’t know what we will be able to do to move past this, even if Hillary Clinton wins, but ESPECIALLY if Donald Trump becomes our next president. I fear, seeing so many students at my university who are unafraid to openly belittle and mock students of color– students who have genuine reason to fear a Trump presidency. I fear, reading articles about children, the most impressionable among us, reciting Trump’s racist mantras and threatening students who are different from them. I fear, thinking about if this is merely the beginning of a new era of US politics, where racism, sexism, homophobia, and xenophobia are as legitimized and blatant as they have been in previous eras of US politics. I fear that this is the new normal. I don’t have solutions to offer, and I do not know that anyone does. Oppressive structures are so deeply embedded in our country’s roots– so inextricably connected with every aspect of US society, that it would be absolutely ridiculous to assume that one candidate or one president can make a dent in them in one or two terms (a task which, absurdly, Barack Obama has been charged with doing, as the first black president). I don’t know where we will go from here. All I can do is hope and pray that the naïve ones will continue the eternal struggle to make our country great, in whatever capacity they are capable of, and through inclusivity, not exclusion. I can hope that we never lose hope, and that we don’t abandon the dreams that we have for our country, and the dreams of all those, like my parents, who moved here to make a better life for the next generation. I know that I owe it to my parents to never lose hope, and we all owe it to each other, if we want to see our country be the place we can love unabashedly.

Signed,

Ewurama Appiagyei-Dankah