Dear America,
I spent a lot of time evaluating our relationship and realized that it is no longer working for me. This breakup may come as a surprise to you because I’ve always said I would never leave because my roots are here. My ancestors from the fields of South Carolina to the sandy beaches of Florida picked your cotton, paved your roads, educated your children, fought for you, and did all of the things you required of us to make you Great. I can no longer stay in this loveless entanglement.
You may call me a quitter, a title that I gladly accept if it means I can leave without any additional emotional scars. You may think I am making the decision based on fear, not facts, and you are right. I fear for my little Black, Muslim daughter as I fear for my 6’2 Black husband. I fear for us while we sleep in the bed, in the streets, and in the park. Fear has consumed me, but it does not have to.
I can see you standing there with your torch held high, wondering what incident led me to this realization. You run through your list of atrocities, trying to pinpoint the exact moment, our relationship turned sour. But no one moment brought me to this decision. There were thousands of moments that brought me to this decision. You exhaust me with your constant racism, rising fascism, and selfish, individualistic attitudes. I can no longer handle the constant worrying about whether a routine traffic stop will become the routine, Black bodies on the ground. I do not have the energy to put on the emotional armor Monday through Friday to function in your corporate world. I don’t want to explain to Hafsa that sometimes Black people just get followed around in stores just for being Balck.
I know you want me to think that you have changed and things will be different with this new administration. But sweetie, you cannot put a housecoat on a pig and call it a wife. You have to want to change, and I don’t think you do. You struggle to acknowledge that there is even a problem. How can you fix what you refuse to admit? You asked for the tired, poor, homeless, and the huddled masses who yearn to be free. But you do not want us to be free. You demand our restraints and our bodies. I will not give you my family nor me.
Listen, even if you fix your racism, islamophobia, and brooding fascism by some miracle, it still would not work out between us. I crave something you cannot give us, a slower pace of life where we can spend mornings lingering over eggs with grits before work and school. I want to leisurely walk to the city’s market to pick up ingredients for our meals. I want to connect with the people instead of rushing by them with my head down in a constant hustle. I want a real work-life balance without having to regulate living for the weekends. Then there is your rising cost of health care and education, making it difficult to achieve the American dream. You cannot change these things because your system is designed to value profit over our lives.
You probably think I’m naive to believe that racism and islamophobia do not exist in other countries. But honey, I know that you do not have a monopoly on racism, but I believe that other countries can be more tolerant of my Blackness and my Muslimness. I am optimistic that others can do what you failed.
This breakup is a difficult decision because we did share many good times like the rainfalls in Honolulu, hiking the Grand Canyon, and standing underneath the cherry blossom trees are experiences that are etched into my being. Then there are the smaller everyday moments that caused me to skip a breathe, like watching Hafsa take her first step in the snow and watching the sunset over the cliffs in San Deigo.
But we are going in two separate directions and are not compatible because we are fundamentally different. Understand that people grow and change, and I outgrew the need for you. I know I am probably coming off harsh, but please understand that I do not wish you ill. I want the best for you. I just want the best for me, and you are not it.
So this letter is my notice to you that we are leaving. We made our intentions. We prayed about it. And now we plan. We do not know when the big move will occur, but we intend to move to live without you.
I don’t expect you to understand. But I am not asking for permission. I’m just letting you know where we stand. You on one side and me far away on the other.
So Adios. Deuces. Salam. Bye.
P.S. Once we move and get settled, I plan to be like Harriet and shepherd everyone who wants to leave away from you.
