Deal with this, please. I’ve drank half a bottle of wine and I’ve some shit to get off my chest.
Every day I wake up and I think, “What did Trump say now?”. I’m 11 hours ahead of Eastern Standard Time, so when I wake up, I check Twitter since it’s the end of the day on the previous day in the US. And every day for the past couple of weeks there has been some turmoil or bullshit that has popped up because Trump’s mouth has no filter, and it’s never good. It makes me sick to my stomach.
20 years ago I left an abusive relationship. I lived in the state of Florida. I got a restraining order, then moved to Savannah, Georgia. Two months later, the abuser showed up on my doorstep. He followed me to class; he followed me around town. He followed me home from work late one night when I worked a catering job after classes, and he forced me into my house. He raped me and sodomized me.
The next morning, after he left, I called Chatham County Sheriff’s Department, and I told the policeman on the other line what happened. I may not remember a lot of things, but what that man said has been etched into my brain forever. “Well, unless you have a bruise on your face, or a picture of him on your doorstep pressing on your doorbell, there is nothing we can do for you, little lady”.
I’ll never forget those words. “Little Lady”.
I moved. The abusive stalker moved on, I thought. I moved away, to Atlanta, then Baltimore, then back to Atlanta. And then I started getting phone calls from creditors, telling me that they were looking for him, because he owed them money. What in the fuck does that have to do with me? Nothing. I hung up. I got married to a decent guy. I never thought I’d have to deal with the abuser again.
And then came the time of social media. I started getting Facebook messages from him, at first being nice, saying, “Hi how are ya?”, shooting the shit like nothing bad had ever happened. As if I would be receptive to saying hello. As if I would say, “Hey! How’s life? You doing good? How’s that left hook going, you still got it?”. I ignored him. When I didn’t answer him, the messages became threatening, calling me a bitch for not answering him.
I never responded to any of these.
Why didn’t I block him, you ask? Because I always needed to know where he would be, so that I would be one step ahead of him. I didn’t want to run the risk of running into him by accident. Blocking him wouldn’t help ease the uncertainty that he wouldn’t be waiting around the corner. This is the kind of shit that women who have been abused think about and have to deal with. You didn’t think of that, dear reader, did you? Well, welcome to our normality. Every time I parked my car anywhere, every time I walked up my driveway or went to a grocery store, I looked around me to ensure he wasn’t lurking in the shadows. And I still do that, half a world away, when I moved to Vietnam. I look around me wherever I am to ensure he’s not there. It's instinctive.
And he found out where I live; he lurked on my LinkedIn, a place where I felt safe because it allows me to interact with normal people and look for normal jobs. He saw where I worked. He sent me messages about how much he missed me, how he wanted me to change my profile picture so he would know what I now look like. Twenty fucking years later he does this.
Back in the day he constantly boasted about grabbing pussy, about grabbing tits, about how that’s what women want. And when the recordings of Trump came out, it brought back way, way too many memories of my past life, which brings me to the here and now.
Trump is an asshole, for many, many reasons. Making fun of disabled people; thinking he’s better and smarter than everyone else; being a full on total waste of a human being. Why on earth people think this “Good Ol’ Boy’s Club” is the norm is beyond me. Why every morning I see cousins and friends of mine on Facebook bleat like sheep about how “Why should this man be punished for saying bad words? It’s just locker room talk”. You must be joking. My father, my brother, and my boyfriend would NEVER speak this way in a locker room. My male friends wouldn’t either. Most men I know wouldn’t. Trump is the kind of man who thinks he’s done no wrong. Trump is like my ex. Trump is like many women’s exes. They think they can get away with it because they HAVE gotten away with it, with no thanks to people like that cop in Savannah belittling me. They can push and push and push and STILL annoy you from halfway across the world. And I’m embarrassed to be associated with people who think this way.
This whole “Make America Great Again”? It’s INSULTING. I didn’t think America was such a bad place to live. My mom came to the US at the age of 18, which makes me a first generation American. Most of my American friends are first, second, and third generation. It pains me to see people embrace Trump like he’s telling “the truth”. What truth is this? Are you giddy, happy, ecstatic that he talks the way he does? Would you make fun of the family of a fallen soldier? Would you make fun of a disabled person? A Latina beauty queen? Would you talk about women like they are cheap? So why in hell are you supporting him? You ought to be ashamed of yourselves, but you’re not… but why the fuck aren’t you?
Guess what, Trump. You’re the cheap one. You are the abusive ex we’ve been trying to get rid of.
Now, get the fuck out of our lives. For good. And take my abusive ex with you, to Hell.