Four years ago, after the tears had dried the skin of my cheeks, I sat down and wrote. I could not see clearly and my heart was filled with pain and anger. I was devastated. The country that I love had chosen a crude and a vile man to sit in the oval office. My hopes and dreams, just like those of millions of Americans were crushed. This land, that I had cherished since the earliest days of my childhood, suddenly seemed inhospitable.
The hangover of election night quickly lead to inauguration day and the four years that followed were even worse than what we had anticipated.
But I never lost faith in America. Trump’s election did not stop me from crossing the Atlantic to meet my friends and set foot on the land of the free. The thrill running down my spine when landing at JFK, LAX or ATL never faded. The tears watering my eyes when I look at an American flag floating high in the sky never went dry. I knew that America was more than the tweets, the lies, the hate, the petty politics and the malarkey.
And then came 2020. This tumultuous year, devastated and disrupted by the winds of wildfires, storms, police brutality and a pandemic put America —and its unfit president, to the test. Unsurprisingly, that did not go well. Lives were lost and the flames of hatred were fanned.
In the fall, the 2020 election was set to be one of the most consequential in recent history. Although exhausted, Americans went to the polls in masses. And after long days of counting ballots, democracy prevailed and the monster that made me cry four years ago was voted out of office.
I write these words on November 7th, just a few hours after Joe Biden was declared the winner of the election. For some reason I am not filled with joy or happiness. It’s another feeling that runs through my body. I feel healed. I feel like I am finally at peace.
For the past four years I have questioned my fascination for the United States. My love for America is part of my identity and it drives me everyday. Knowing that Trump was sitting in the people’s house made me ashamed of this love. Ashamed of wanting to become American. Ashamed of supporting a country that in so many ways, and for so many people around the world, seemed to be wrong and to have gone off tracks.
Joe Biden and Kamala Harris’s victory means so much for so many people. To me, it means that I can be proud again. That I can talk freely about the stars and stripes that I love without being remorseful. It means that the America that I love is back.
Tonight I want to drive down the country roads of Texas. I want to eat waffles at the Waffle House in Atlanta. I want to walk the streets of New York City. I want to buy lottery tickets at a gas station in Ohio. I want to listen to street musicians in Nashville. I want to go people watching in the aisles of Walmart. I want to watch the sunset over the Pacific ocean in Malibu. I want to see deers cross the road in Colorado. I want to sit in the observation deck of an Amtrak train. I want to see the planes take off at ATL. I want to read Jonathan Franzen or Paul Auster. I want to listen to Willie Nelson. Heck, I would even drink a cold beer, Coors, Miller, whatever you want.
Tonight I am proud to say that I love you, America. Tonight I will fall asleep dreaming about the better tomorrows that lay ahead of us.