Dear Mr. President,
What do you see when you look at me? Are you disgusted by the fact that I am a woman? Do you question my knowledge, my integrity, my outlook on life because of what is on my chest or in between my legs? Am I not enough for you because I don't bow down when I hear your name or gawk at the sight of your money? Am I untrustworthy because I believe in the good in others even though their skin differs from mine? Am I ugly or prude because I refuse to be a sex slave to men? Am I too ambitious or proud because I want to be a working woman and make my own money? Does my ambition scare you? Do independent women make you nervous, uneasy, on edge? Do homosexual individuals make you uncomfortable by how comfortable they are with themselves? Do African Americans, Spanish, and Middle Eastern people make you cringe because they're different from you? Mr. President, do my questions intimidate you? Do my questions make you question yourself, your beliefs and your morals? Do my questions make you want to be a better person, president, husband, and father? When I ask you these questions the answer is no surprise to me. The answer is no. The answer is your pride is selfish, your views are insulting, and your time as president will be no different.
Dear Mr. President, I am a 22-year-old white, heterosexual woman with more privilege than I am thankful for. I have never been assaulted, discriminated against, lacking funds, or "different". Mr. President my skin has never been the main subject of conversation, and when I walk in an airport security does not stare at me. The police don't do a double take when they look at me, and I can afford all that I need. Mr. President, I can admit a man's money has intrigued me once or twice and sometimes I get nervous when walking home alone at night in not the best neighborhood. From all this, I am just like you Mr. President, I seem shallow, racist, and pretentious. Because I am a white heterosexual female I have it all, right Mr. President? Because I grew up in the suburbs with a predominately white high school, played on a sports team, had a good family, I am like you. This is what you see when you look at me, isn't it?
Dear Mr. President, does your view of me start to change when you find out I help victims of domestic violence? Do you start to shy away from me when you find out I support gay rights and transsexuals and immigrants? Do you start to look at me differently when you learn I stand up for rape victims and that my friends are not all white? Do you start to question my word when I say not all Middle Eastern and foreign people are criminals and are to be feared? Are you insulted when you learn I plan on making my own money for as long as I live and that a man couldn't get me into bed by the bulge of his wallet? Mr. President are you surprised to know that I am not like you, that I am nothing like you, that a strong independent, ambitious woman like me is disgusted by you. That the way you view others that are different from you is the way I view you. Are you dumbfounded that I protest you, and speak against you, and believe that you being elected president is some sort of scary dream? Mr. President, how does it feel to be belittled, to be judged, to be looked at as if you were nothing? Mr. President, you may be the president to some, but you are not my president.
Sincerely,
Someone very different from you
