Dear Mr. President,

I started crying, when the final results of this year’s presidential election came through. As a matter of fact, I am crying right now. I am crying tears of horror, anger and fear.

I am horrified that a country I love so much, a country whose people I treasure so much for their humor and their way of life, could have voted for a man who has been saying disgusting things. A man who said disgraceful things about women, about members of the LBTGQ-community, about people from other countries, and many other things. A man who thinks it is okay to grope and to kiss women without consent. A man who plans on building a wall in order to keep unwanted visitors out of the country. I am appalled that this man will walk in shoes, which are too big for him by miles, for – at least – four years. That he is supposed to own a position which he cannot fulfill due to a flawed character and – probably – a lack of qualification. I am horrified that this man who stands for all these unspeakable things, will represent a country which a long time ago has become the home of my heart.

I am perfectly aware of the fact that it is not particularly en vogue these days to like the USA. No, actually America-bashing is the fashion. Europeans and Germans highly disapprove of the evil, war chasing, superficial and material American. Not me, though. I have spent an unforgettable and wonderful year in this country and it has found its place in my heart ever since. There is no such thing as “the American” anyway – it is, however, a sign of shallowness and ignorance to dislike a whole continent based on bias. While living there and also during many other stays and vacations, I have met people who I instantly liked and of course also people who I did not get on with so well. Just like it is in any other place in this world. There is one thing, though, that all of those people had in common: They would always be open, friendly, curious, without bias and helpful. I have never thought the salespeople’s infamous “How are you doing today” to be shallow. To me, it feels friendly. Talkative. It creates an atmosphere which in turn makes me feel comfortable. Welcome. At home. Being a Swabian, I am rather used to sales people not even looking up whenever I enter a store. So whenever I think about the USofA, there is a fuzzy feeling in my stomach. I actually become homesick. Whenever I travel to New York City, I want to kiss the floor at immigration at JFK, right there, under the flag, I am that grateful and happy to just be there again. Whenever I walk the streets of Manhattan, I feel an energy and love of life pulsing through my veins that I can feel only there. Nowhere else am I able to feel myself like this. Dear Mr. President – please, don’t break this country.

Dear Mr. President, I am also crying angry tears. I am angry about how you – for the love of power, the joy of gambling, out of arrogance? – fooled a nation with lies and empty promises, with populist tricks and with hail-fellow-well-met slogans. You abused the insecurities of many American citizens who – unfortunately – have been forgotten over the past years. You raised hope within them with empty words and you made them believe you speak their language. I am convinced that all of this has been only lip service and I am also convinced that you will be exposed pretty soon. You know what else makes me angry? That you are not willing to keep and improve those achievements that President Obama has been fighting for so hard during his eight years of presidency, instead you want to swipe them out instantly. It makes me angry that you want to put a gun into every American’s hand. It makes me angry to hear you say vaccines cause autism. And it makes me angry beyond words that you want to take the right of self-determination off women by prohibiting abortions. It makes me angry that you plan to repeal all those rights for homosexual couples that people have been fighting for for decades. Dear Mr. President – you are just like the German AfD-party. You are about to lead your country back into the Stone Age. Tell me – what is supposed to be great about that?

My tears, dear Mr. President, are also tears of fear. I have a five year old son. He does not understand as of yet the bigger picture. He does not even have a notion yet of the planet we live on. He is only starting out to explore and discover the many miracles which the earth has in store. You, Mr. President, are now the master of the red button which may destroy everything within seconds. And it pains me to say that you are not a very trustworthy person. You seem moody and short-tempered, reckless and blundering, thickheaded, you let your own sensitivities lead the way. It scares me shitless that you are entitled to decide about the future of this planet.

Dear Mr. President, my sincerest hope is that your behavior during the election campaign, your polemics, your mischief-making, your arrogant affectations were all part of an act. Part of your plan to win this election. I do hope that you take off the mask now and become aware of your position, aware of the size of the shoe you are stepping into. I hope and I pray that as a father, husband and human being, you become aware of your infinite responsibility towards your country and the world.

After all, you’re a dad too, Mr. President.