Another man couldn’t afford to give me anything. But after he became a US citizen, he wrote me a letter of gratitude that I used to look at when I was feeling bad. It reminded me that I had done something indisputably good: I had helped save a man’s life. After Trump was elected, that man wrote me again, because he was terrified he was going to be placed on the Muslim registry. I hadn’t saved anyone. I had fucked it all up, I had helped him go from one hell to another, a hell that now endangered me, too. The nightmares I had been fending off had come home in the form of the Trump
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