To my Dearest and only son,
Sometimes, the bad guys win.
I write to you from a tender moment in our history. Though you have only been on this planet for two and a half years, what has happened will likely shape your future in profound ways. Around the world, and especially here in America, many fathers and mothers like me are grappling with how to process what just happened and how to find the words to explain it to their loved ones, their children, and even themselves.
How could this happen? Why did this happen? Are we, as a society, truly this broken?
I think it’s important to let everyone process this in their own way. And I really don’t have answers for the world. But I do have words for you, my son.
To begin, I’m not one of those absolutists who now claim to have known all along how this would turn out. I genuinely believed that America, with all its beauty and “glory,” would ultimately choose to do the right thing. I believed that, at its core, America would show that ethics, dignity, civility, and respect for the balance of power are virtues it would defend, even in the face of authoritarianism.
As a child, I quietly believed in the fairy tale of American exceptionalism. I believed that this country was the most advanced civilization on Earth, a protector of justice and democracy, and a champion for the progress of humankind.
Even then, I understood America’s flaws. Your Babu, your grandfather, my father was a professor of political science and one of the smartest men I’ve ever known. Our house was run like a college classroom, where critical thought and defending one’s position were expected. He never allowed ignorance to be an option, not even for a child. He taught us to see America for what it truly is: an immature nation of contradictions.
He would likely remind us now that we should never be surprised by our failures, for to be surprised would be to admit we misunderstood the lessons of history.
Still, despite knowing better, I allowed myself to believe in the fairy tale. I wanted to believe in the promise, I wanted to believe in the rhetoric of America’s ideals, if not for myself, then for you and your future.
But now, I write this letter feeling like a fool trying to grapple with the reality. This “greatness” I secretly believed in was more fiction than fact, not any better than Santa Claus on Christmas.
The truth is, America has once again chosen a belligerent “white daddy” and refused the idea of a model student and Black mother. And while that may be true, I would also argue that this isn’t just a binary issue of race or power, it’s more complicated than that. Our values were subjugated to America’s greatest value which is Greed.
Despite how the fairytales end that we read at night, in this story about America the bad guy wins.
It’s a hard truth to bear, but one that aligns with the broader arc of this nation’s history. I want you to understand that you are not a victim of this history, though you must be aware of it.
Who we are is not who America’s is but who we are is who America has the potential to be.
America must look into the mirror, not just to see its past but to envision its future. And in that mirror, my son, I see you.
I see a realist and an idealist who will be brave enough to dream and bold enough to stand up for what is right. I see someone who wants to win but wants do the right thing to win.
So, where do we go from here?
We don’t learn much from winning. It’s the losses that teach us the hardest, most enduring lessons—the kind we carry forward because we never want to feel this way again.
Even as I struggle to understand this moment fully, there are a few truths I know to be important:
- This is not the end of the story.
- We have the power to shape what happens next.
- And no matter what, I will continue to fight for the kind of world you deserve to grow up in.
I can’t promise you that things will get better quickly, but I can promise you this: we’ll never stop trying.
With all my love,
Baba Salim