I’m a Texan, an American—And I Wish the World Well

I’m a citizen of the United States. Born and raised in Texas, where values like independence, grit, and hospitality were baked into the soil I grew up on. I loved my home state, but it too has turned into a hate filled state. I love the land, the people, the music, the food, and the ideals we say we stand for—liberty, justice, equality, and opportunity.

But I find myself in a strange position these days. I wish the rest of the world well—perhaps more than ever. I hope other nations thrive where we’ve lost our footing. I hope they lead the way on education, healthcare, climate action, diplomacy, and human rights, especially where the United States has either faltered or walked away entirely. And no, that doesn’t make me less patriotic. In fact, I think it makes me more so.

Because wanting good for others doesn’t take anything away from my love for this country—it simply means I’m no longer blind to the damage being done under the false red banner of “greatness.” 

I step back with a closer look, this country was founded on lies from the days of murdering the first land protectors (Native Americans) to the enslavement of human beings for profit, to systems built on exclusion, exploitation, and today, silencing anyone who dares to speak truth. We’ve wrapped injustice in red, white, and blue for so long that many can’t tell the difference between patriotism and propaganda. I refuse to pretend that loving this country means denying its deep wounds or cheering for leaders who want to repeat history’s darkest chapters.

Abandonment - is the act of leaving behind or withdrawing support, care, or responsibility for someone or something. It can refer to physical, emotional, or moral neglect—such as walking away from commitments, relationships, duties, or principles. Abandonment often results in a sense of loss, betrayal, or instability for those affected, and it can have far-reaching consequences when applied on a personal, societal, or global scale.

When the United States turns its back on international commitments—whether it’s military alliances, humanitarian aid, climate agreements, or global health partnerships—it sends shockwaves through the system that sustains global cooperation. The world economy doesn’t function in a vacuum. It depends on interconnected trust, shared resources, and reliable partnerships.

When trump and his administration chose to “walk away” from obligations, it wasn’t just political theater—it was a destabilizing act with real consequences. Pulling support, withholding intelligence, or undermining longstanding alliances weakens the global fabric. It results in fractured supply chains, reduced trade stability, lost jobs, and increased economic anxiety for families—not only abroad, but right here at home.

Our allies begin to doubt us. Adversaries gain ground. Markets respond. An ordinary people suffer the most.

What so many don’t realize is that leadership on the global stage isn’t about dominance—it’s about responsibility. And when that responsibility is abandoned, the most vulnerable pay the price. Parents lose jobs. Kids go hungry. Communities lose vital resources and people can become displaced. Whole regions lose the stability they’ve relied on for decades.

It’s heartbreaking to witness the damage this administration has done—not just through what they’ve said, but through what they’ve refused to do. Leadership by fear, withdrawal, and division isn’t leadership at all. It’s cowardice dressed as strength. And the ripple effects of those decisions are already being felt by millions.

trump’s MAGA movement, and even more alarmingly, the goals of Project 2025, have made it clear that this version of America isn’t about unity or freedom. It’s about power and control, nostalgia wrapped in nationalism, and fear-based policies disguised as protection.

It’s starting to look more like fascism than freedom.

When the future being shaped includes stripping away civil rights, attacking education, silencing dissent, gutting environmental protections, criminalizing compassion, and handpicking leaders based on loyalty rather than competence, I have to ask: what exactly are we trying to “make great” again?

And who benefits from that version of greatness?

I want good things for the U.S.—but my version of “good” isn’t about flags and slogans. It’s about people. It’s about a country that feeds its hungry, lifts up its children, protects its planet, and tells the truth even when it’s hard. I want us to be bold in kindness and brave in justice. I want a democracy that listens to its people, not one manipulated by the wealthy and powerful to serve their own ends.

And yes, I want the rest of the world to succeed, too.

Why? Because we are not isolated. When one nation leads in clean energy, it benefits the whole planet. When another shows how to educate all children equitably, it lights a path we can follow. When a country stands firmly against corruption or stands up for the vulnerable, it reminds us what courage looks like.

The idea that I can’t care about other countries without turning my back on America is one of the greatest lies we’ve been sold. I want good for us and them. I don’t want a “them vs. us” world. That kind of thinking is what got us into this mess in the first place.

We need a future that’s cooperative, not combative. Visionary, not regressive. And we need leaders who believe in that too—who aren’t clinging to the past or weaponizing patriotism to build walls, ban books, or silence voices.

“Patriotism?” 

I don’t cheer for Project 2025, but I can see its appeal for those choosing white nationalism over the US Constitution. I don’t get warm fuzzies when I hear chants of MAGA. I see the damage it’s done—to our democracy, our reputation, and to our sense of decency. I see a movement led by a man who seems less interested in serving the country than in saving himself.

But I’m still here. I’m still praying for good—just not the kind that demands submission, silence, or superiority.

The good I pray for America includes accountability, compassion, progress, and humility. And I will never stop praying the same for every other nation and people on Earth.

Being an American patriot, means you care enough to speak up—not only for what’s happening here, but for what’s happening everywhere.