He may be YOUR President, but he isn’t MINE.

Earlier this morning I had written a fairly detailed response in regards to the presidential election. I highlighted the fact that Trump is a clown, a con-man, an alleged/potential rapist and a racist who is now in charge of running the land of liberty, the land of prosperity, the land of opportunity, and most importantly (and arguably), the land of the free. I pointed out that he didn’t elect himself, and that we should be equally alarmed by those who attempted and succeeded in putting him into office. But unfortunately, I accidentally deleted my draft. At first, I was saddened by my action. I took great care in crafting each sentence. I hand-picked each word, many of which were of a heightened vocabulary so that I could demonstrate that I am an educated Black woman whose voice deserves to be heard. Then it hit me: I don’t need my feelings to fall on blind eyes and deaf ears. I am more than certain that some of you who are following me as well as others who may view my website are Trump supporters. And if you’ve backed him for this long, chances are my words aren’t going to invoke a change. So now, this entry (just like my poetry) is made for those who can relate. This is for the marginalized individuals who are just as heartbroken as I am:

To ALL of my beautiful Kings, Queens and In-Betweens that identify as a member of ANY vulnerable population, I pray that God grants us the strength and protection needed to combat whatever the aftermath of this election brings.

It’s going to be a long four years, but as history has proven, we were built to endure. Our lives may not matter to them, but they matter to us. And maybe by now, that’s what’s most important.


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