It’s quite complicated to find words that suit the feelings surging through my body at this time. I can honestly say I was not prepared to accept this as my reality. It was more of an understanding that the possibility of an outcome like this was possible, but not real. There’s a sea of emotions, and it’s getting a tad bit choppy. Anger, disappointment, frustration, anxiety, all of these violently swarming around ready to burst out at the slightest trigger. Yet, one emotion remains, all the way at the back of the room, just sitting there, watching everything plummet into disorder and anarchy. Fear. Fear is just there, lingering. I feel it like I haven’t felt it in a while, and I’m not glad it is coming to happen once more. I honestly thought I had left it behind.

If there is anything that I remember from my childhood is my struggle with my own identity. Being confused to where I came from and what that meant was a huge part of my youngest years, and at some points I suffered from it. I was ridiculed for it, and at some points, I even hated myself for it. I struggled with understanding where I belong, and hated feeling like an outcast. Sometimes I would even think to myself my father’s family resented my mother and I for it. God, the only reason for my existence is immigration and open mindedness, and now those things seem farther than reality.

It took me a while to grab the basics. I couldn’t speak for about four years, and when taken to a specialist to figure out what was wrong with me, my parents were told that I simply could not choose what language to speak in, so I would just keep quiet. I guess growing up with two languages is more taxing on a child than I thought. English and Spanish are different in the smallest and most annoying ways, no wonder I didn’t want to deal with it as a kid. Not only was I a product of mixed cultures, but a product of immigration and open mindedness.

I was upset when my family went to Ellis Island to look upon our family name etched into the slab alongside all the immigrants that flooded the northeastern shore. I must have been at school or something. Either way, I would’ve loved to see my family name there, immortalized by chisel and hammer. Salvatore Paolella was born in New York City after his parents emigrated from Italy into the States. Being first generation, he grew up and then was drafted into the army to fight the Axis Powers on D-Day and hopefully end what is one of the worst events in human history. During his tour he fell in love with France, and decided to dedicate his life to the teaching of it’s language, alongside my grandmother whom which he taught at Cornell. My mother and her twin sister were born and after some time they all moved to Spain to live for a while. Mom liked Spanish quite a lot, so in college she decided to study it abroad in Mexico. Foster family lived in same neighborhood as my Dad when he was in Med school, and one thing leads to another, and here we are.

Routine growing up was simple. Go to school and then in summer, spend three months with my American side of the family. Those three months were my absolute favorite time of the year. I liked Mexico no doubt, but in America is where I truly felt like myself. Everything was fine until middle school rolled around. Children are capable of making life hell, and at some points, it felt worse than that. I struggled identifying myself as part of a culture or another. Kids in school would make fun of me or just plainly say that it was bad that I liked the US so much and how I should just leave and stay there because where we were was Mexico. One of the worst insults that ever got to me was when someone told me how I was more Mexican than “nopales”, a food back home, and that I wasn’t American and that someone that lived there for a couple of years was more American than myself.

That hurt quite a lot. I celebrated Thanksgiving, went to an American church, grew up with American values. Make no mistake, I grew up with Mexican values as well, but having people belittle what you identify with yourself as one grows up is quite taxing on the soul. During my teenage years I yearned for the US even more, wishing I could live there year round. I fell into a bit of a depression when I wasn’t having any luck with girls because, honestly, approaching dating in an American way simply just does not work. Not only that, but people would get angry at me when I’d drop Spanish after a couple of drinks and just stick to English. It’s not my fault I did that when I drank a lot, English is just so much easier for me to use. I hated how people hated the US. My best friend reminded me of how stupid American people were, and how ti was the worst country in the world. I would get so irate from hearing that over and over, for I loved my country as much as I loved Mexico. They were both my countries, I came from both.

Alongside with identity issues, I started to pick up racist tendencies towards my skin, and would share with my mom how I was sad because I wasn’t blonde like “Americans” were, and even apologized to her for not being blonde, or should I say, white. Looking back now, it saddens me that I would let differences from either side get to me. To this day I hate being labeled either Mexican or American. I am myself, nothing more, nothing less. Being labeled has always had such a bad connotation in my experience, but now things are different.

Before it would make me sad, but my parents would reassure me that it was only the opinion of some people, so it wouldn’t matter in the long run. As of the 9^th of November 2016, none of that matters anymore. They are memories of a time now past. The present has made it be memories of a time where it used to be better, for now it seems far, far worse. I am truly sad, I will not lie. Sad in what has come to happen in this country. It hasn’t been more than ten hours and all I can see on social media is rage and hatred. All I see is a fiery demise to which we are all headed to if someone does not grasp the steering wheel and completely changes the course set forth.

I am terrified, and that alone shows me just how bad it is for so many more. I am in fear like I once was of people knowing where I originate from. I fear violent acts befalling me and my loved ones. I feel vulnerable and unsafe in a country that I love. I had left that fear far behind, and as soon as I started finding myself, I am shoved back into fearing who I am and what might happen to me. This is coming from a twenty two year old who is half American half Mexican. What truly shakes my core even more is what is happening outside of my office that I sit in while I write this.

I have come to meet incredible people since I started college three years ago. Different races, different religions, different sexual interests. All of them as genuine as any other. Now they are afraid to leave their house. They are afraid they won’t be able to marry the person they love. They are afraid for their family and afraid for their rights. All these preoccupations crippling their life are legitimate, and that alone, is the scariest part. It hasn’t been a full day and the suicide prevention hotline has doubled in activity, most of them coming from the LGBTQ community. I scroll through my Facebook feed to see protests, people burning flags, people shaming others and using words that I would not use on my worst enemies.

It should’ve been clear since the first Trump rally where racism and hate mongering of the likes we hadn’t seen since the 50s and before showed their face once more in America. Trump rallies where people are screaming at the top of their lungs “kill that nigger” to any black person there. “Hang the bitch” when addressing Clinton, or “fuck those beaners and build that wall”. Why is this happening so much country wide? Coming here, I was not aware that idealism like that existed in the quantity that is shown today. I weep inside. Humanity has left the majority of the American people.

Now I live in fear, and I see it everywhere I go. I now begin to feel uncertainty and general mistrust towards anyone I meet. All because of fear of what they might do to me due to the color of my skin, or my name, or my background. I fear having to answer a phone call from home and having to speak Spanish. I can only imagine what my international friends are going through, especially those who came to this country in hopes of getting a better education. My friends from all round the world. I fear for their safety and cannot apologize enough for what my country is doing.The worst part of it all is that i am not exposed to the true hell that is being unleashed across the land. I see it everywhere I go, people insulting other people online, physically assaulting others in the streets, words being used in a way that hasn't been used in a long time.

I fear the very nature of the situation we find ourselves in. People are incredibly unpredictable. Now that the economy is crashing, people protesting in the streets and others being just racist to anyone they feel worthy to shout at. I fear that it will explode. I fear violence and what will come to happen if it boils up so much that when it bursts, everyone will be in danger. I fear that all along, basic humanitarian morals and ideals have been a facade covering up a country full of, well, bad people that no longer care for one another.

I can’t really organize my thoughts around all of this. It’s just all happening too fast. Deep down inside I hope I haven’t made any enemies because of them supporting Trump or not. That’s not at all the point I am trying to make. I have never been that fond of politics, and frankly, I am not saying how Hilary should’ve won or that Trump is the worst person in the planet. This election was fucked, plain and simple. A choice between lesser evils. But that matters not anymore. What is now happening is a divide like I haven’t seen before, and I fear that we will break this country in ways that repairing is not a viable option or possibility at all. The America I used to cherish has turned into a place that I am afraid to be in. I weep inside. All of this happening at the same time as we drive our home planet to the brink of ecological change that will not be good. The uncertainty of the events that will come to pass absolutely terrify me, and all I can say is I hope everyone is safe and sound, and we will make it through this ordeal if we set our minds to it. It is a sad day for me, but deep down inside, a small lit candle shines the dimmest light of hope, and although I am not much in the grand scheme of things, my attitude towards people of all beliefs, races, sexes, sexual interests, origins, will not change now or never. From one human being to any out there that are afraid of the place they call home, you are not alone, and I wish you all well. The sun will rise again, so let’s make sure we greet it with our heads held high. Peace and love to you all. ~ad astra ultraque