Dear America, By the Time You’re Reading This, It Could Be Too Late

Dear America,

By the time you’re reading this, the election will already be over. History will have taken its course. And with that said, there’s a very real chance that Donald Trump will once again be President of the United States. And If this does happen, it won’t just mark a return to past mistakes; it’ll signify a step away from what we, as a country, claim to be.

This isn’t about partisan divides or red vs. blue. It’s about the reality of the situation we are facing. This election isn’t some distant game, or some private matter. It’s something much more than that.

 In more ways than one, it will define who we are and what we’re willing to accept. I say this because we often hear the exact opposite—we often hear that politics shouldn’t “intrude” on daily life, that one’s vote is a private matter, and that a person’s politics aren’t necessarily a reflection of who they are.

 However, truly believing this comes from a place of privilege. This nonchalant view of politics is only possible if you aren’t directly affected by what’s happening.

For some, voting is a choice, a convenience; for others, it’s about survival. What I’m trying to say is that a vote isn’t just a ballot cast in private—it’s an act that impacts others. 

While it’s true we each make our individual choices, we don’t all share the consequences.

 The results of this election will affect our sisters, who may lose control over their bodies; our friends, who could face deportation; the LGBTQ+ community, who live in constant fear.

 In this election, no vote is neutral—it’ll either be a lifeline or a dagger—an act of support or an act of violence. As a country, we’re at a crossroads, and looking away now is to endorse harm.

It’s sad to see that things have come to this—a nation so polarized, so divided. And the person behind it? That’s exactly what he wants. 

Trump is a candidate who thrives on division, who sees difference as a weapon, who leads with anger. We see it everywhere—from his disregard for democratic norms to his use of anti-immigration rhetoric as a tool, not a solution. 

Trump exploits fear, and he’s dangerous not only because of what he does but also because of what he represents: a world where cruelty is strength, where xenophobia is patriotism, and where equality is a threat that must be dismantled.

Beyond all this is his disdain for women. 

Trump’s hostility toward women has been demonstrated by his long record of allegations of sexual misconduct and his constant assault on women’s autonomy.

 And while we’re on the topic, his legal record cannot be ignored. 

Trump is a convicted felon, a man who has been found liable for sexual abuse, facing numerous allegations of corruption and self-interest—and keep in mind that this is barely scratching the surface. 

With all this said, the idea that the man I just described could hold the highest office in the country for a second time reveals a bleak acceptance of moral failure in our country and sets a dangerous precedent for the behavior we tolerate from our leaders.

This election goes far beyond just being about policy; it’s about people’s lives, about our own moral standards and those of our country at large. 

And when I say I write this letter to America, I mean I write it to the America I know, to the America I believe in.

The America that always strives to be better—and yes, it’s that same America that once held thousands in slavery and harmed millions of Native Americans, but it’s also the America that went to war with itself over slavery and is, to this day, trying to make amends with those its wronged. 

America isn’t about being great; it’s about trying to be better. And with that said, it’s time we come together to defend those whose lives this election bears down upon.

At the end of the day, this election is about whether we can face the real impact of our choices or if we will choose to succumb to fear.

And now we’re here, at the end of this letter. By the time you’re reading this, it could already be too late. I won’t ask you to take action—I can only hope that you already have. All I can say is that I truly hope you choose right.

Sincerely,
Nathan Azevedo Espindula