The American Nightmare

Four months ago I came to Europe

determined to fall in love with the land

Slightly embarrassed to say I was American

with no plan to go back.


The last four months I’ve begun to realize

what America has stood for.

I’ve begun to realize

everything I took for granted.


That my parents could leave their homes

leave their families and everything they knew

to build a better future for themselves

to raise children to have open minds and

believe in the good of not only America

but people as a species.


That the efficiency and success of America

was built by our people’s bare hands.

Our people’s hands being of every skin color

because in America, we are all equals.


The last four months have taught me to appreciate America.

To be proud to call myself an American.


Today, everything I’ve finally come to appreciate has been spat on.

Stepped on.

Doused in gasoline.

And set to flame.


That the majority of my country supports

racism. sexism. xenophobia.

That the majority of my country believes that I,

as a Latina woman, am a criminal that can be

“grabbed by the pussy” by a man because he is famous,

is heartbreaking.


I am the product of the American Dream.

That America has now determined that the

American Dream was not meant for immigrants,

but for the white men of its land,

leaves me in a tattered state.


My sense of identity is compromised.

I feel naive for believing my fellow Americans shared my values

that we are all equals.


My sense of identity is compromised.

If my beliefs are not in line with those of the majority of America,

can I call myself American?


Today, I am ashamed.

My heart bleeds for immigrants like my parents

who thought America was better.

Today, America let us down.


Four months ago I came to Europe.

With no plan to go back because I was going to love Europe.

Today, I have no plan to go back to America

because of the fear I have of the future of America.

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