The Untied States: 249 years later, America’s still not great—but it could be.

And when we say America, let’s be clear. To avoid the ultranationalism plaguing this deteriorating country, we’re talking about the United States of America. After all, America spans two entire continents, yet this one nation has colonized the title. I like to call this not-so-great nation the “Untied” States of America, because it has yet to live up to being indivisible.

As Aimé Césaire, the brilliant Martinican poet and anti-colonial scholar, once wrote, “A civilization that justifies colonization is already a sick civilization.” A nation built on genocide, slavery, colonization, racism, and exploitation is indeed uncivilized, and can do nothing but bring about its own undoing. In many ways, that undoing has a face—our current president, Donald Trump. But he didn’t break this country. He revealed it. He is not an anomaly—he is the inevitable. A mirror. A symptom. A consequence.

How did we get here?

As we approach the 249th birthday of the US, it’s necessary to reflect—not on fireworks, patriotic myths, and BBQ (enjoy your plate though!)—but on how we got here.

The United States was founded on the self-declared values of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Freedom. Justice for all. But who was “all”? These promises were never meant for everyone. They were written by and for white, wealthy, land-owning men, to protect their own interests and the interests of future generations of men just like them.

I would like to say that they framed it with only themselves in mind, but that would be false. They did think of others. Indeed, one of the most contentious debates and barriers to ratifying the Constitution, the governing document we still use today, was not about equality, but about how to count enslaved Africans for the purposes of taxation and representation. Not because they were to be treated as citizens, but to determine how much political power the presence of their population would give those white, wealthy, land-owning men (you guessed it!) in the newly founded nation. The answer? Only three-fifths of Black people would be counted—a brutal compromise that claimed they were less than human.

America, working as intended

So no, the system isn’t broken. “America” is functioning exactly how it was intended to. It’s racist. It’s sexist. It’s classist. It’s homophobic. It’s xenophobic. It’s violent. It’s...well, you get the picture.

And Trump? He’s not the disease. He’s the flare-up. He didn’t invent the ugliness. He just stopped hiding it.

Many presidents have cloaked the truth in polished speeches and performative gestures. À la his pandemic antics during his first term, Trump tore off the mask. His policies aren’t new to “America”—they are simply unfiltered and exaggerated. The anti-immigrant attacks, the assault on reproductive rights, the suppression of voters, the catering to white nationalists, the disregard for Black lives—all of it has deep roots in US history. From the genocide of Native Americans and Indigenous peoples from Virginia to Hawaii to the enslavement and oppression of African Americans, from Japanese internment camps and the Chinese Exclusion Act to imperialistic wars guised as democracy in Puerto Rico, Vietnam, the Philippines, amongst many others—Trump is indeed, in some ways, doing what the framers would’ve wanted, and what they did. Don’t get me wrong, much of his process has been undeniably unconstitutional, but after deep reflection, we can’t deny the results have been consistent with this nation’s track record. “MAGA” is simply a shortened version of MAGAWWLMO–Make America Great Again for Wealthy White Land-owning Men ONLY.

Forcing the conversation

The difference now is visibility. Trump is loud, brash, and unapologetic. He’s the spirit of his Eurocentric ancestors reincarnated, in full (orange) force.

And in that way, he’s actually useful. He forces the conversation. He disrupts the illusion of progress. His administration illuminated this nation’s true foundation—one that many were content to ignore under more palatable leadership.

The difference now is that we have more people who disagree with MAGAWWLMO. More people who want an America that’s actually great—for everyone. More people with the agency, access, and clarity to fight back.

The struggle of progress

But here’s the thing about progress: it’s a struggle, quite literally. Every major paradigm shift in history is met with fierce, calculated resistance. The election of Trump was the final pushback before something greater. He is the manifestation of this nation’s fears, its shame, its secrets. He is the mirror America needed, however grotesque.

This moment is painful, but necessary. Trump is the wakeup call. And not just for the usual targets of oppression—Black people, Indigenous people, immigrants of color, women of color, queer folks—we’ve always known what this country is. This is a wakeup call for white liberals, for white moderates and patriots, for white women, for fence-sitting “allies” and for white-passing and white-adjacent POCs who believed proximity might save them.

It won’t. None of us are safe. It’ll be them today, and you tomorrow.

We must continue to resist this oppressive regime and everything it represents—not because we believe the system is worth saving in its current form, but because we know what’s possible beyond it.

A death, but not the end?

Trump didn’t make the nation worse. It exposed what was always here. And some of us needed to be reminded, albeit tragically, yet again, at the expense of the most vulnerable. Some of us needed to be forced to confront this nation’s bloody foundation in order to finally rip off the bandage and begin to truly heal.

According to Césaire, “A civilization that uses its principles for trickery and deceit is a dying civilization.” Maybe this is a death. But it’s not the end.

If we act—especially those who’ve sat in comfort and complacency—it can be a rebirth. A birth of a nation that finally lives up to the promise of justice for all.

America has never been great.

But if we’re brave enough, bold enough, and relentless enough—it can be.

For the first time.