We Need to Talk About Ivanka

Excuse me for just a second. I need to read Ivanka Marie Trump.

Dear Ivanka: How was Aspen? Were the conditions good? How old were you when you first learned your dad was nothing but a vindictive huckster with alopecia trapped in the prison of his own narcissism?
 
Dear Ivanka: Actually, forget what everyone says. I think it’s sweet how you’ve stuck by your dad through the affairs, divorces, allegations, all those times he said he wanted to bang you. What are daughters for, if not to soften the edges of a sexually predatory bigot to make his campaign of populist deception more palatable for nice, white women?
 
Dear Ivanka: I don’t suppose you eat carbs, but you sure do know which side your bread is buttered. Has it occurred to you that your commitment to being buttered has jeopardized the future of American democracy and also maybe the whole Earth?
 
Dear Ivanka: You realize that your “behind-the-scenes role” as climate change- and gay people-whisperer is a joke when your dad stacks his government with deniers and rolls back protections for trans students, right? You are literally the worst whisperer ever.
 
Dear Ivanka: Do you know it takes more than a hashtag to be a feminist? None of your precious tweets championing equal pay mean shit when your dad revokes an executive order that ensured women working for federal contractors got fair wages. And where were you when papi reinstated the global gag rule? And anytime he vows to defund Planned Parenthood? Or repeal the ACA’s myriad benefits for women?

Dear Ivanka: You cannot have your fucking cake and eat it too.
 
Dear Ivanka: If I asked if you believe in intersectionality would you say, Oh yes, I gave birth to all my children naturally?
 
Dear Ivanka: You can sit there in a sheath dress and be all well-spoken and breathy, but I think something you need to remember is that no one ever talks about Eva Braun’s poise.
 
Dear Ivanka: I cannot tell if you are evil incarnate or just dead inside, and it’s really frustrating me.

Dear Ivanka: But I do sincerely hope your sweet daughter never works for a “very good man” like a Bill O’Reilly, or a Roger Ailes, or a Donald Trump. I hope she is respected in body and mind and that if a man ever breaches that respect, her pain is heard and her voice is trusted.
 
Dear Ivanka: Ok, I’m going to try to appeal to the nineties private school girl in you and what I know to be one of the most fatal sins in that crowd…Do you know how tacky your dad is? Like, everyone’s talking about it. He’s so tacky, they’re saying. And you know what else is tacky? A refugee ban. Oh my god, so tacky and super try-hard.
 
Dear Ivanka: You need to know that you are not one-half of a power couple — you are a vital fraction of a White Power administration. You are the definition of complicit, although that is a word you cannot define. 
 
Dear Ivanka: You will go down with the ship. And I will be the neighbor sipping a dry white wine on my stoop, watching with glee when you do.