Why I Hate Donald Trump, and Why You Don’t Get To Call Yourself A Friend If You Don’t.


You want part of the reason why I hate Donald Trump:  here it is. Me and my brother — and the light from the flash makes us look a lot lighter than we ACTUALLY are in the photo. My mom looks like she stole two Mexican kids. In Donald Trump’s America, they’d be trying to deport us every summer. Hell, they’d ask for my brother’s “papers” every time he stepped out of the house since he looks like he’s straight up outta Guadalajara year round. Where do you think we got Texas, New Mexico, and San Diego from anyway white people — we stole it from Mexico! True ignorance is going to border towns like El Paso and telling the “illegals” that are here visting their family to “go back to their country.”  It WAS their country before we stole it, dawg.

If they’ve been here years, aren’t criminals, let them pay taxes, fines and stay! The idea of modern day concentration camp door-to-door “round ups” is ludicrous. The majority of undocumented immigrants come here LEGALLY and then don’t leave. So your wall does nothing.

Except cut us off from the largest importer of American made goods.

Freaking idiots.

My brother told me recently that we had enough Native American blood in us that we could probably declare ourselves Indian because we both decided that white people — especially here in the South — have freaking gone crazy. I thought that was the smartest thing he’d ever said. Also, I told my grandmother that I had not checked ‘white’ on a race box in over a decade. She said, “What do you check?”

I said, “Other.”

She said, “What does other stand for?”

I said, “None of their damn business!”

She laughed the grandkid laugh that she only uses for us.

I was pretty proud of myself that, at 90-year-old, she so enjoyed that.

I have no problem being “white.”  I just don’t think race is anyone’s business, but mainly — I just don’t want race used to lump me in a category with “Build a wall!” yelling dicks.

Finally, as we get ready to bring an end to primary season with the mother of all primaries — California — let me reiterate my stance on Donald Trump and emphasize that I mean every word.

I don’t care how I know you, how we’re related, or what good friends we once were, if you support Donald Trump — I’m just not sure you deserve a spot in my friendship circle. Ever.

Here’s why: when Donald Trump stood on a stage and made fun of a disabled man, he might as well have been making fun of me. When you make that okay, when you make excuses for him mocking someone’s handicap, you might as well mock me. You might as well ridicule my stature, my walk, my bone abnormalities — it’s the same thing.

Period.  The end. No excuses.

And I will never hate myself enough to make that okay.


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