Dear 13-Year-Old Me,
I see everything falling apart. The country I grew up in — where freedom and equality were promised — no longer feels like the place I knew. I feel like I’m walking on thin ice that could break at any moment. I never thought it would come to this.
I grew up believing society only improved with time. Now, it feels like my beliefs are falling apart. Promises of equality are hollow, and the ideals of justice feel empty. I am watching the foundation of my entire world crumble beneath my feet, and all I can do is stand paralyzed by the weight of it all. This is not the world I thought you would grow up in. This is not the future you were promised. The country that once empowered you to chase your dreams now makes you question whether those dreams were ever meant to be yours.
You had these fears when President Donald Trump was first elected in 2016. Nevertheless, you still had slivers of hope. You asked yourself, “Could the American public vote this man into office for a second term?” You believed they could not. How could they? He never truly cared about us. He saw us — human beings — as pawns. I thought America was better than this. When Trump was voted out of office in 2020, you thought we as a country had learned, but no. We are going backward.
When you hear about the war in Gaza, you are going to feel a sick, painful knot in your stomach. Every day, the news keeps getting worse, breaking you in ways that are impossible to explain. The conflict has persisted for as long as you can remember. When you were five years old, you heard about your family being displaced against their will. You felt like you were drowning, and that pain has rarely abated through the years. I know it’s so overwhelming.
I always hear about our loved ones over there, the ones that I can never see again, the ones who are trapped in a place where death and destruction are constant, where the world has turned its back. The bombs, the airstrikes, the bloodshed — it’s all too real. It’s real, and it feels like a part of me is there, breaking down piece by piece. Every time I hear about another attack, every time I see the faces of the lost when I close my eyes, I feel that grief, that rage, that emptiness inside me grows bigger.
But even as they try to strip away our power, presence and rights, you must remember you are not invisible. I will keep fighting for what’s right, for what’s fair, for what’s human.
And the worst part? No one cares. The world does not care. They watch, report and go about their day while people like you and your family are torn apart. You feel the injustice in your bones. Every story feels like a slap to the face. How is it that, with all the pain and all the destruction, the world can look the other way? How do they stand by as entire families are wiped out, children die in the streets and communities are erased? You are grieving, but you are also furious. Furious that we — your people, your family — are seen as expendable. That’s what it feels like, right? It feels like they’ve decided your life doesn’t matter. The current leader of the U.S., the country that you grew up in, said with his entire soul: “I’m committed to buying and owning Gaza.” How could someone say that?
It breaks you. Over and over again.
It is not just the pain and destruction in Gaza that cuts deep; it is what is unfolding here at home, too. The small victories you fought so hard for are slipping away. The Diversity, Equity and Inclusion (DEI) initiatives you once believed would bring us closer to the world you were promised are now being torn apart. Every time they roll back those policies it feels like another slap in the face. The Trump Administration is stripping away the tools to level the playing field, hindering our capacity to make a space where everyone can be seen and valued. And it’s not only policy. It’s personal. This is a message telling us that our voices do not matter, that the work we’ve done to break down barriers and fight for fairness is somehow worthless. It’s as if officials have decided that our progress is not worth protecting and our humanity is not worth fighting for.
When they remove programs like DEI, it’s like pulling the rug out from under us. It hurts, because they are erasing everything we have worked so hard for. And the worst part? Trump pretends it is for the greater good and when really it is a direct attack on people like you. It is not hard not to feel invisibilized, like our struggles don’t even matter enough to be acknowledged. But even as they try to strip away our power, presence and rights, you must remember you are not invisible. I will keep fighting for what’s right, for what’s fair, for what’s human. And Trump cannot take that away from me, no matter how hard his administration tries.
Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) is another wound that has been reopened repeatedly. Right when you thought progress was finally being made, the program instantly got shut down again. DACA, when active, provided undocumented youth who were brought to the U.S. as children with protection from deportation and the opportunity to work legally, offering them a chance to build their futures while living without constant fear of being torn from the only home they’ve ever known. Do you remember how you fought so hard for that? It felt like a lifeline, a glimmer of hope for those who have known no other home than the one here. DACA was not perfect, but it was a start.
DACA made millions feel like they belonged, that they were a part of this country, a part of its future. You are part of this country, this future. But now, the Trump Administration is trying to rescind that, too. Every time they threaten to end it, it is like a knife to the heart all over again. These are real lives, real people — people like you who were raised here, who have worked, studied, dreamed and loved with the promise that they had a place here.
And now, they are telling us that you do not belong. The fear of being ripped from everything you have known, the constant anxiety that one decision, one moment, could undo everything is suffocating. The government is playing with lives and futures as if you are just a statistic. But those are not simply numbers. Those are our friends, our families, our brothers and sisters. The people protected by DACA are not just dreamers, but real people who deserve security and dignity without the shadow of fear hanging over them every day. As they try to tear that security away, you must stand tall. You cannot let them erase our dreams, worth or future.
You have every right to be angry at the world that keeps asking for your compassion while giving none in return.
You are hurting, and you want so badly for it to stop. But the world keeps spinning, keeps pushing you down. How do you fight against that? How do you stand up when the system is so broken, so corrupt, so determined to erase you? How do you find the strength to keep going when everything is designed to crush your spirit?
Here’s the truth. You will find the strength. It will not be easy. There will be days when you feel like you cannot breathe, when the weight of everything will crush you. I will not lie to you and say it will get better overnight. It will not . But I promise you this — you will keep fighting. You will fight for the people who cannot fight for themselves. You will fight for your family. You will fight for Gaza, even when the world refuses to acknowledge the pain we are enduring.
You are going to be angry, and you should be. Your anger is valid. You have every right to be angry at a system that dehumanizes you, at a government that tells you and your family that you do not belong here. You have every right to be angry at the world that keeps asking for your compassion while giving none in return. Every time they strip away protections, every time they attack your identity — your existence — it feels like they are doing everything they can to break you. To break us. You feel like you are fighting a battle you cannot win, screaming into the void, and nothing will ever change.
Listen to me; even if you feel your voice is too small to make a difference — you matter. Your voice matters. Your fight matters. And you will keep going. You will rise. Because even in the darkest, most painful moments, you will not be silenced. We will not let them erase us. You will not stop, even when they try to break you. You will stand up because there is a future worth fighting for, for you, and for the people who need your voice.
The pain is real. The fear is real. But so is our strength. You are not alone. And we will fight together.
With love,
Your Future Self
