Son,
guard your ears from words of hate—
we do not hate migrants.
They have long been our neighbors.
Since the day I was born,
we have shared this land,
the markets, the laughter,
the same sidewalks
with people of different colors,
tongues, and roots.
That is America.
That is what makes us proud.
That is the greatness you hear of.
Our ancestors too—
they were migrants,
tender-footed,
hopeful-hearted,
loving migrants.
Shield your eyes
from the brutalities against women.
Women are citizens—like you, like me.
They lack nothing.
They are our companions in the wind,
with strong spirits
and open hands
to care, to lead,
to build the world.
Do not let your heart fear
the skin tones of others.
Nature teaches us beauty
in every shade,
every scent,
every shape.
We do not fear
what we did not choose—
nor do we hate
what we were born to witness
in difference.
Son,
let love be your fiercest weapon.
Do not believe that war
creates winners and losers.
War only leaves behind
losses.
There is no victory
where love is abandoned,
where empathy is buried
under the flag of pride.
Please, my son,
speak gently,
even when you're grown.
Kindness is not just a lesson
for children.
Oh no, no—
it is a legacy for adults,
a promise kept
from what we once learned
in the schoolyards.
Yet how often we see
adults shouting at neighbors
with angry words,
then demanding their children
speak sweetly to their friends.
And if one day you grow
and I am no longer here
to tell you where the lies lie—
remember this:
much of what you see
will make less sense
than your childhood heart knew.
But hold on—
to what you learned
from kindness,
from making space
for others,
from being the friend
who says no to bullying.
Your classmates may become
your neighbors,
your coworkers,
your rivals.
Still—
those same childhood truths apply:
Be loving.
Be gentle.
Be of service.
That is the secret
not only to surviving,
but to growing
with grace.
And remember,
many others
have simply forgotten.
Your Daddy
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