Minneapolis

I have lived so long with America, with its promise and its shame, with its beauty and its tragedy. I have lived so long now with America’s numbness to its own pain, its impotence, its blindness to its own shame and its own crimes.

I have lived so long with this! I am in tears! I am in tears with all the rest of us who have lived with this for so long and have protested and written and spoken and prayed and given money and stood in the streets and made signs and chanted and showed up at meetings and made pamphlets and posters and linked arms, and, yes, have thrown things and torched things and broken windows and burned cars in our rage to express the desperation of no change, the desperation of speaking to deaf and impotent masters, the desperation of loss, of insult, of infuriating cowardice in suits and ties, of infuriating sweet talk in bow ties and skirts, infuriating being-looked-down-upon by people no better than us, infuriating selfish holier-than-thou posturing by weaklings and cowards who hide behind titles and badges and sinecures, behind family and money and walls with electronic gates and yard signs indicating private security forces protecting their wealth and safety and privilege.

I have lived so long with this. I have said enough and exited America. I have gone away from all that I love to live in Italy and watch from afar today as the America I love and hate spasms again, spews again, coughs up its vile mixture of mephitic fumes and bile again, murders again, murders again casually in uniform as if taking out the trash, quietly like a good student who cheats on his homework, saying to the victim, “Relax,” when he moans and cries out that he cannot breathe.

I too have had enough. I too am at a breaking point. I too stand with all those who have had enough, who are at the breaking point. I too raise my voice to say that America should be ashamed of herself, America has fucked up again, America has shown its ignorance and cowardice again, America has done that thing she does when she knows she is wrong but is too cowardly to admit it, that thing that only the privileged can do, that thing of shrugging and walking away.

She would like to escape reality as usual but maybe, just maybe, this time there is nowhere for her to go, no route of safety, no lying protector, no wall with an electronic gate, maybe, just maybe, this time there is nowhere to escape the truth, no closing the eyes because the truth is there behind the eyelids, behind the walls, in the skies, on our skin, in the earth, in the air and in the clouds, in our giant Coca-Colas and our Big Macs, in our fries with that and our blue jeans, in our smart phones and in our tattoos, everywhere, maybe this time the truth about America is everywhere and cannot be explained away with a fog of dry ice, maybe this time nothing can obscure our history, our true story, the story of slavery as an economic model, the story of domination and exploitation, the story of might makes right, the story of a young country too big for its britches. Maybe America is finally getting its comeuppance, facing itself, hitting bottom, having one of those moments that changes it forever.

That would be nice. But I don’t really believe it will happen. I do not have great hope for America. I am only sad and outraged once again. I do not really believe she will change. I am not filled with hope. I do not really love America anymore, after all that she has done. I cannot love her if she cannot stop lying.

I am glad I am in Italy. Italy has its history of wars and fascism and its corruption and incompetence but it is at least a country with some dignity. America has lost its dignity. America is a fool in a bar who should be thrown out but won’t be thrown out because the fool has too much money, the fool is too rich and has too many friends, so she spews her bile while everyone turns away and pretends not to hear.

I am glad I am in Italy because Italy is not a land of assholes. Italy is not a land of ignorant, ill-mannered privilege. Italy is not a land of slaughter and murder and greed. I don’t know really what Italy is but I am glad I am here and not there. I am glad I am not among the people I love because it is too hard right now to be an American. It is too hard to stand up for American right now.

America has to admit it has a problem. But it won’t. I am not filed with hope. I have to stand by, filled with tears of rage, while America degrades herself and pretends everything is fine, while she murders and escapes punishment and pretends everything is fine, while she watches her people die and pretends everything is fine.

I am not filled with hope. I am tired of hoping. I am tired of the pretense, the lies she spews, the dance she does, her lame ruse of entertainment, it is all so hollow now, so transparent, so lame and pointless if she cannot accept the truth about herself and change.

I don’t think she ever will change. I am tired of having hope. I am tired of trying to help. I salute those who remain but I am glad I am out. Through a stroke of luck only am I out. I am out because I saw a hole in the wall and went through it. I saw the open door and went through it.

I wonder how you feel. I wonder if you feel the way I do. I wish I had hope but I don’t. I wish I had a plan but I don’t.

I wish a lot of things but I feel that the truth is bitter and sad. I have lived so long with America, I just have to let her go.