Dear Mr. President, I Swear I Won’t Hurt Your Country
An open letter from a hard-working and hopeful foreigner in the USA
Ever since I was a little girl, I have been dreaming of living in the United States.
No matter how many times I changed my mind about what I wanted to be when I grew up, the dream to move here always persisted. I was completely smitten and fascinated by the pictures and videos I saw of this place. There was no other country in this world I wanted to visit more.
Today, I’m 25 years old and this is my fourth consecutive year of living in the States.
At 16, I moved to Michigan for one year as an exchange student, which is when I was able to master the English language and learned how to stand on my own two feet.
When I was 21, I came back to finish college in Missouri. What was planned to only last one year turned into a three-year adventure, which has shaped my life in more positive ways than I can count.
After I had started college in my native country, I developed a terrible depression. I became the worst possible version of myself, and life seemed pointless and gray. By the end of the worst two years, my “two dark years” as I always call them, I was ready to end this misery that was my life. The sole and only glimmer of hope that prevented me from disappearing from this earth, was the life I lived in my dreams.
In my dreams, I was happy. I was successful. I loved myself.
In my dreams, Mr. President, I lived in your country.
When life seemed completely and utterly meaningless, these dreams were my medicine. I felt like I was hanging onto a thread that was about to rip, but these dreams prevented me from falling into eternal emptiness.
I really don’t know how, but on a slightly less draining day, I pulled myself out of my hole. That day, I forced these dreams to stay in my head a little longer. They helped me be strong enough to fill out the paperwork which would ultimately lead me to finally come back to your country.
That day, I saved my own life.
Six months later, on a hot day in August, I left my empire in hell behind and focused on what was coming, even though, until the very last second, I still had doubts it would all come true.
For nine hours, I was sitting in that plane above the ocean, waiting for it to crash. I didn’t think I would deserve to ever make it to your country. Someone like me didn’t deserve to finally live her dreams, so I thought.
The plane landed safely.
When I arrived that day, something changed. Staring out of the window of the cab that brought me to my new school, I witnessed one of Missouri’s beautiful sunsets for the first time, and I could feel the dark and ugly demons in my head slowly vanishing.
After two years of painful self-hatred and hopelessness, I was finally able to feel again. In that moment, life didn’t seem as pointless or dark anymore. In that moment, I could see it, the one thing I had been incapable of imagining for two years. The future.
My future.
I spent the next three years working harder than I ever thought possible, trying to make use of every opportunity; always going the extra mile, taking on more and more responsibilities, and gladly sacrificing sleep.
Within 14 months, I had worked my way up from being one of many staff reporters to becoming the first ever non-native speaking editor-in-chief of the campus newspaper.
During my three years in Missouri, I developed friendships stronger than I ever could have imagined.
I fell in love, so hard that it hurt.
I got my heart broken, so badly that I didn’t know if I would be capable of ever trusting anybody in this world again.
I traveled your country so many times, there came a point where I had seen more corners of it than many of my native friends.
I was offered my first job only a month and a half after graduating, long before many of my classmates had even started their job search.
I was doing well.
On my 25th birthday, I was interviewed for a spot in a master’s program at an amazing school in New York City; the only program of its kind in the nation.
The invitation to the interview came unexpected, and I only had one day to prepare for it. At that point, though, it was my only chance to keep living my dream. The expiration date on my visa was coming closer and closer, and it was frightening. I had always wanted to live in the magical Big Apple, but this goal almost seemed too big to even say out loud.
All I knew is that I simply couldn’t just go back to my native country. The sole thought of what life could look like over there gave me anxiety.
I had too many memories of my old life, the one I was ready to give up four years ago because I had no hope and saw no future.
So, filled with nerves and anxiety, I fired up my laptop for the interview and began answering questions the best way I could. Again, I was filled with doubt, and it was unthinkable that I would ever deserve to go to a school in New York freaking City.
I was accepted. I even received a scholarship.
Today, I’m two months into studying journalism at a fantastic school. I get off the train at Times Square to get to class, and I pinch myself every damn day.
I’m living my dream.
The vision that had been popping up in my head ever since I was old enough to dream has actually turned into reality.
Mr. President, I know this world is full of hate, full of darkness and fear. I know you said you want to protect your country from those things and make it great again.
However, the reason why I’m telling you my story, dear Mr. President, is because I want you to realize something.
Moving to your country has changed my life for the better. I wouldn’t be alive today if it wasn’t for that life-long dream of coming here.
Studying in your country has given me more opportunities than I ever expected to have in life. I worked hard to make use of them all, and it got me to where I am right now, a place I never thought I would ever be.
Learning your language has made me realize that writing is my true passion. I can express myself in your language in a way I never could in my native tongue.
Traveling inside your country has given me my most precious memories, those kind of memories that one will hold on to forever. It has opened my eyes and shaped me to become a braver and more independent person, and taught me to see the beauty in something as simple as a sunset.
Getting to know the people in your country has been the biggest blessing. I became friends with citizens, and many, many non-citizens, of all ages and backgrounds. They all accepted me, and I accepted them. There was always love, no matter how different we were.
Immersing myself in your country’s culture has made me feel complete. It felt like finally coming home after a lifetime of searching for the right place.
Coming to your country, dear Mr. President, has made me stop dreaming and start believing.
I started believing that not everything has to be bad forever. I started believing that what might seem bad can open up doors to so much good.
I know you have plans to make your country even better than it already is. I think this kind of mindset is great. Always trying to improve is a good attitude to have.
However, when you make decisions on the people you allow in your country, please think about those who are like me. There are those who dream of a better life, those who need a fresh start, those whose lives are filled with darkness or fear, or those who simply wish to follow their hearts and chase their dreams.
These are people who you consider foreigners. But they are also people who love your country deeply. They cheer with your country during the good times, and suffer with your country during the bad. They also pray for your country.
Mostly, they pray to be part of this country, because they think it’s the most magnificent place on earth.
You see, Mr. President, there are people who think your country is already great.
All I ask of you is to consider us when you think about the future of your country. We are not bad people. We don’t want any harm. We just want a chance.
I have a feeling that this is what your grandfather hoped for when he left Germany as a teenager in 1885.
I suppose Melania had a similar dream when her career promised more opportunities for her in your country about twenty years ago.
I know the world is a scary place, and I wish I could efface all the bad that you feel your country needs protection from.
But I promise that you don’t ever have to worry about me. If you let me, I will always root for your country. All I’m asking for is a chance to stay and continue this life I had dreamed of for so long and worked so hard for.
I beg of you to think of me, and the people who are like me, and like your grandfather, and like your wife.
If you find it in your heart to give us a chance to keep fighting to stay here, I promise we will help this country flourish, the same way it helped us.
I promise, dear Mr. President, I only want what’s best. I swear to you, my presence won’t hurt your country.
