There are less than two weeks left until what has already come to be the most consequential election of my lifetime. By consequences, I’m not speaking to the continuing polarization of American politics, or to the impending worsening of Washington gridlock, or even to the potential damage to the credibility of American democracy in the eyes of certain portions of the electorate depending on who wins.

By consequences, I’m speaking to the personal consequences of this election.

To many young people of color including myself, this election has shaken us to our cores, challenging our beliefs about ourselves, our identities, and our country. We’ve seen the scapegoating of ethnic and religious groups, the denigration of women, and the demonization of immigrants. We’ve seen the these grotesque ideas come to fold not just by average citizens across America but public figures and influential voices who have only served to fan the flames.

This existential anxiety will leave its mark on us far after this election is over and it will leave the demonized and the demonizers to think long and hard about who they are before history ultimately decides. We must understand how we got to this point.

Recently, I’ve rediscovered my response to Donald Trump’s acceptance speech to his nomination at the Republican National Convention. This, of course, was before the leaked tapes, before the disastrous debate answers, before all the ways we have found to reach rock bottom. Yet, I still found it important to think back on, a reminder of all the dangerous and hurtful rhetoric that has been promulgated and that must be corrected.

“Our roads and bridges are falling apart, our airports are in Third World condition…”

You do not get to tell me what is and what isn’t in Third World condition.

You do not get to tell me what falling apart is until our roads are nothing but gravel and dirt plots where the farmers lay out their coconut husks to dry.

You do not get to tell me what is falling apart until the length of the vast fractures in the highways are only exceeded by kilometers of traffic jams that crawl at only a few miles an hour because of a government that truly does not have the capacity to improve its infrastructure.

You do not get to tell me what falling apart is until our bridges are nothing but rotted wood and fraying rope and we’ll all need to be driving pickups to cross rivers.

You especially do not get to tell what Third World is when the biggest issues are inconveniently long queues and that the terminal’s only Starbucks ran out of caramel pumps.

“The people I have met all across this nation have been neglected, ignored, and abandoned.”

Yes, the people of this nation have.

The people have been so neglected by governments often so corrupt, ignored by opportunities so far in the distance that they have abandoned everything they had known up to that point.

These people have abandoned their home. Think about that.

They’ve left where Nay made them home cooked meals day-in and day-out.

They’ve left where Tay first showed them how to ride carabao.

They’ve left the Mangosteen trees they would climb with their best friend.

They’ve left the beach where they proposed to the person they’d want to spend the rest of their lives with.

They’ve left the only life they’ve ever known, because even after all of that, it can never, never make up for the feeling of being neglected, ignored, and abandoned by circumstances you have no say in.

The people have abandoned their homes for a foreign land where likely them and their concerns are likely to be ignored, but at the very least they have that sliver of an opportunity for once in their lives not to feel neglected.

The people of this nation have felt all of those things in the nation they’ve previously called home.

And that’s why they’re here now.

“They are being released…into our communities with no regard for the impact on public safety or resources.”

They have also been released from the grip of martial law, from the oppression dictators, from the absolute mortal fear of military coups.

They have been released from corrupt systems where they have been excluded from the plunder, maltreated to the point of starvation, left to fend for themselves in places tens, hundreds, thousands more terrifying than any place we could ever imagine because, simply, we weren’t there.

They are not threats to public safety; for all there lives they’ve wanted nothing but safety.

For all their lives they’ve wanted nothing but to have the resources they’ve worked so tirelessly for.

“[They are] people who work hard but no longer have a voice.”

So they took their voice to a country that the believed would honor it, that they believe would liberate it and allowed it to be free.

They took their voice to a country that would appreciate the multitude of tongues it spoke in, the plurality of accents they expressed themselves in.

They took their voice to a country that they felt they would be understood in.

“Anyone who endorses violence, hatred, or oppression is not welcome in this country.”

Yes, you are not.

Take it from us; this is our country, too.