The chants were never subtle. Go back to where you came from. This is America—speak English.
They were declarations, not conversations. Ultimatums masquerading as patriotism. And now, you’re living in the world you demanded.
The rest of us heard you. We believed you. And we acted accordingly. We went back, we stayed back, and we chose not to return—not out of spite, but out of self-preservation. Because what you’ve built is not safe.
We watch from a distance as you turn inward, hunting your own citizens, targeting them as prey, and justifying it with the same hollow rhetoric you once sold abroad as “freedom.” The weapon has come home, and you wield it against yourselves with the same zeal once reserved for foreign soil.
This is not a matter of politics; it is a matter of pathology. The rest of the world has broken up with you—not in a fit of rage, but with the weary resolve reserved for an abusive family member. The one who shows up drunk, lobs racist jokes across the table, spews misogyny between mouthfuls, and turns every gathering into a hostile takeover of the room. We’ve stopped inviting you, not because we don’t care, but because you don’t.
No more staged reconciliations. No more “maybe they’ve changed.” The couches you once sprawled across with your super-sized comforts are empty now, and so are the streets of the cities you once believed were irresistible. You wanted to be left alone, and now you are.
…The silence is yours to keep.
And spare us the “Well, I didn’t vote for this” chorus. Or the “Not this American” disclaimer. That’s the same empty comfort as “not all men” or “not all white people.” If you knew and you stayed quiet, you gave permission. Your silence is a vote in favour. Your inaction is a voice of approval.
If you really are “not all,” then you’re the one who has to speak—loudly, often, and until it costs you something. Otherwise, you’re just nodding along while the order is taken: Do you want to super-size your fries for an extra 300 billion in taxes?
[ts_support_turnip_style]
