I feel at war with my conscience, with other Americans, with people who look like me, with people who do not look like me, with people who understand what an amazing piece of history this presidential race is for women and Blacks, and with those who do not.
I'm angry because I have a clear picture of the problem but the solutions are so damn muddy. I'm angry because the freedoms that I rely on as a writer, and an artist, and a thinking human also protect the driving zygote we passed on our quaint suburban street sporting in his pick-up, adorned in hate speech. I'm angry because the mere color of my skin, the height of my cheekbones, the fullness of my nose and lips are a measure of just how publicly outraged I'm permitted to be.
I'm embarrassed by the embarrassment I feel for myself and others as I witness them grappling with the same emotions I grapple with whilst enduring this presidential campaign. I'm embarrassed because I prefer to think myself an individual; not just part of a race, or a people, or a country, a sect, a sex-but as Tameka. Perhaps I'm embarrassed at the realization that I, in the history of this country have gone from a fraction of a person with a fraction of a vote to a fraction of the populace and none of these fractions represent Tameka as a whole.
I'm pleased with what I've expressed here, surprisingly enough. Honesty needs no frill-it simply is what it is. I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts on how this whole presidential race is affecting your presence (or that of others you've been in contact with) in America.