My mother went to NYC a few decades ago. Back when she was going to a Morman church and she found everything she was looking for in the community that surrounds the group. 

I was able to appreciate the people while being unable to find the same faith in the religious community as the rest of the people who lived blissfully unaware. 

When the elders asked me why I refused to be baptized Morman when I could answer every question they taught from their perspective, they were dumbfounded by the answer. 

Well, my mother was happy following the same religion that I will never understand how anyone is able to submit themselves to. I cannot give my autonomy away to a religion that says this child created of rape is a miracle. 

Did Christ do amazing things? Yes. Should people follow the lessons? Yes.

Also… let’s remember the overall lesson that the Bible teaches, ACCEPTANCE OVER HATRED. 

You can find contradictions throughout the entire book. You can find a ton of “anti-“ whatever you want; while also “love your neighbor” and “stay on your side of the fence” type stories and lessons. 

My mother put a lot of time anticipating her trip to NYC, a place she had never visited. My mother’s friend (I’ll call her Barb for this story) drove the trip and had a monthly reason for going. The reason could have been religion, family, crafts, or clothes. The point was not why they were there, it was what happened… Barb planned on showing my mother the NYC she grew up in. 

They parked in the parking garage of the Trump Building. My mother got out of her friend’s car and they were walking towards the first destination when my mother tripped over a yellow line. The problem wasn’t how clumsy my mother was, or that her old, scratched-up bifocals betrayed her while she was walking in stride with her friend who knew the area. The problem wasn’t even my mother being so awestruck by the city that she didn’t second guess herself when the lines shifted slightly until AFTER she was laying on the ground in agony because she had tripped over nothing. 

The lines were not just lines; Some moron decided to place yellow painted car stoppers on them right around the area of where the sidewalk begins next to the parking area. 

Neither of the women noticed it because the practice was something completely normal for the situation. 

My mother in agony, and Barb freaking out because her friend just fell pretty hard, had to get to the emergency department. They had to get back into the car and go because it was faster than staying and waiting for help. 

Because, in THAT GENERATION, that’s what they did. 

When they returned from the ER to take pictures, the car stoppers had been moved, all evidence was gone. The only proof was a video and emergency room visit. The video may have been deleted. 

But I know for a fact there is evidence of my mother’s emergency room visit, the emergency call to whatever contractor the Trump Building has to move those stoppers, and the settlement between my mother and the Trump building legal representation team.

My mother was so excited to see the world that she forgot to look out for the things coming right up in front of her. 

Trump should have paid my mother for destroying her ability to do all of the creative work she did when I was a child. All of the things she taught me and I will never be able to hold a candle to. He destroyed her and took away her ability to create. 

Then, his goons hid everything she needed so she could have had a lawsuit against him. 

I learned how to gather information about everything that could bite me in the ass from that situation. 

Trump raped my mother that day. He fucked my entire family. Now he’s fucking our country while we’re sitting here taking it because we are afraid to be happy? 

Let the man take responsibility for his decisions. 

Give me the ammunition to bring him to court. Get me into a room with him. People like him have been fucking people like my family for generations and I will say everything y’all want to say straight to his face if you let me.

What is he going to do? Tell my mother on me? Good luck Donald Trump, she’s dead! Just like yours. The difference is, mine would be proud of me. What would yours say about you!?