Dear Britain, Let's Team Up

We know what you all think of us already, England and we really can’t apologize enough. We know you look down on us like your backwoods cousins with no shoes. The damage from the George W. Bush years was already insurmountable. Our enthusiasm only seems loud and our loyalty comes off as arrogance. But considering you are also facing your own embarrassment in the political leadership department, maybe this is a good time to talk about teaming up-officially. If anything, I’m hoping the one good thing to come out of your Brexit disaster is that we somehow put our differences aside and come together to mutually acknowledge how collectively screwed we both are.

I know Americans appear to be brash and selfish like we don’t care what people think of us, but this couldn’t be farther from the truth. That’s just the universal behavior of the ignorant, who pride themselves on their intentional lack of development and you guys have them, too. It’s just that your beautiful accent provides your hillbillies with cover, and the whole tea and biscuits thing is so damn delicate and mesmerizing that we can’t hold it against you.

I want you to know that we are in a constant state of horror about what comes next every day. We are currently being led by a tyrant toddler, who’s irrational mood swings would make Mussolini say, “Dude, you need to chill.” And this official visit to England has got us so freaked out, that decent Americans are collectively holding their breath right now while lowering their heads and squinting their eyes to plead “sorry” in your direction.

I know as much as you like to make fun of us, you are also fascinated by us, England. That’s our charm-it’s how we got France to go all in that one time and send us a ton of cash that they didn’t really have for an empty promise.

Imagine finding out your daughter will be marrying into a family of real substance. I mean, this family was educated at Harvard and actually got into the school without a donation from their father. They have real money. Not real estate, Mafia money but old, illustrious money and the power that comes with it. Now imagine that you are middle class. Proud and hard-working. You have raised a fine family, who is kind and ethical and cares about others. They sing in the damn church choir every Sunday, for Christssakes. But suddenly, you have to collab on this wedding, where two distinct worlds will collide and what’s worse, you have to send in a guest list from your side that includes some of the worst, most ill-mannered human beings alive. This is what Americans feel like every day. Not that we are at the wedding where we are in the full throes of watching our distant relatives humiliate us in real time. Worse. We are perpetually six months out from the big day, fielding calls from these backwards fools about whether a tuxedo t-shirt counts as “formal wear” and just waiting for impending doom.

I know as much as you like to make fun of us, you are also fascinated by us, England. That’s our charm-it’s how we got France to go all in that one time and send us a ton of cash that they didn’t really have for an empty promise. We know we’re fascinating, like a train wreck is fascinating and we work it to our full advantage. But now, we are really more like you. We long to be proper again. We miss the Obamas every day. We dream about what could have been with a first female President. If I could conjure up some kind of spell to resurrect Jackie Kennedy that cost me my right arm or something, I swear to God I wouldn’t hesitate.

England sets the trends for Americans for everything, even though we hate to admit it. We follow your style, your music, even your politics. America is on a year and a half delay for copying everything you do. We absorb what you do like a little sister desperate to be like her cool bigger sister. Trump is living proof of it based on when he arrived nearly two years after Brexit. Maybe if you can correct course, we will instinctively do it, too. We can piggyback off of your failures and your successes. If you rise like a Phoenix than we will copy you, like we love to do, and we will both make it out of this nightmare together, as friends…or at least as comrades. (Sorry, there’s that pesky American enthusiasm again.) We can become a duo like in Killing Eve and turn this thing around. It will be so successful that assassin chic will take over fall fashion week. Let’s plan this nightmare of a wedding together, England.


Amee Vanderpool writes the “Shero and a Scholar” Newsletter and is an attorney, contributor to Playboy Magazine, analyst for BBC radio and Director of The Inanna Project. She can be reached at avanderpool@gmail.com or follow her on Twitter @girlsreallyrule.