Last night I got on my hands and knees and begged God for the end of birthright citizenship in my country. And this morning, the Supreme Court of the United States upheld it.
I don’t know what to feel. I don’t know that I feel.
I can’t say the outcome was particularly surprising.
Every indicator was pointing to the continued bastardization of the 14th Amendment.
I kind of froze when I first saw the news, and didn’t really react until at least a half hour had passed, when tears started pooling in the corners of my eyes as I was scrolling my phone.
I don’t think I’d cried over a political result since the candidate I was working for in 2016 dropped out of the primary. I remember it vividly. It was senior night at my college, I had a to-go cup of some mixed drink in one hand and a tiki torch in another. I sat on the floor and called my mom with my nose running and my eyes bloodshot. She could barely make out what I was saying and thought I had dropped out of school.
But this time I didn’t sob hysterically. It was silent and I don’t know that it lasted a full minute.
It was like my body was quietly acknowledging what I didn’t want to.
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