President Trump Appears to Suggest that Foreign-Born Americans like Ilhan Omar and Zohran Mamdani Should Be Banned from Holding Elected Office ll
In a simple move that produced a massive meltdown, Trump re-posted a meme on social media that suggested foreign-born citizens, including the infamously woke former Somali in Minnesota, Rep. Ilhan Omar (D-MN), could be barred from public office.
This comment aligns with comments from both the president and other Republicans suggesting that the entitled and notoriously woke Democrat might face removal from the country she seems to despise and wish to change so much. Predictably, Omar came to her own defence with cheap moral outrage.
In the post that started the entire controversy, a special media user asked, “Would you support the idea of foreign-born citizens being barred from running for office? Yes or No.” Included in it were pictures of Rep. Ilhan Omar and Omar Mahmood Fateh, who tried running for mayor of Minneapolis and is in the Minnesota Senate. President Trump reposted the image, which many took as a sign of approval.
Commenting on the interaction. A prominent conservative said, “ JUST IN: President Trump signals foreign-born citizens should be BANNED from holding elected office in the United States. This should go for ANY elected office. Including LOCAL offices.” Check out the post here:
As we reported at the American Tribune, this is far from the first time Trump has suggested that foreign-born citizens, particularly Ilhan Omar, should be deported. “Between [Rep. Jasmine Crockett] and Ilhan Omar… and, you know, I met the head of Somalia. Did you know that? And I suggested that maybe he’d like to take her back. And he said, ‘I don’t want her,’” he joked.
Melting down in epic fashion, the Minnesota Democrat took to Twitter to express her dissatisfaction. Omar posted, ” From denying Somalia had a president to making up a story, President Trump is a lying buffoon. No one should take this embarrassing fool seriously.”
Firing back, the president took to Truth Social. “Ilhan Omar’s Country of Somalia is plagued by a lack of central Government control, persistent Poverty, Hunger, Resurgent Terrorism, Piracy, decades of Civil War, Corruption, and pervasive Violence. 70% of the population lives in extreme Poverty, and widespread Food Insecurity,” he pointed out.
Still not done burying the entitled Democrat, the president noted, “Somalia is consistently ranked among the World’s Most Corrupt Countries, including Bribery, Embezzlement, and a Dysfunctional Government.”
Concluding his commentary, Trump said, “All of this, and Ilhan Omar tells us how to run America! P.S. Wasn’t she the one that married her brother in order to gain Citizenship??? What SCUM we have in our Country, telling us what to do, and how to do it. Thank you for your attention to this matter. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!”
Far from his only comment on the idea, while speaking to reporters, Trump suggested, “I think she’s terrible… She’s a disgraceful person, a loser… It’s amazing how people from her area vote her in. She should be impeached and deported back to Somalia—fraud got her here.” Adding, “She should go back! Ilhan Omar is a disgrace… Her homeland is a corrupt hellhole… Time to impeach this scum and send her packing.”
Featured image from embedded video
On my birthday, my sister smashed the cake straight into my face, laughing as she watched me fall backward, blood mixing with the frosting. Everyone said, “It’s just a joke.” But the next mo
On my birthday, my sister smashed the cake straight into my face, laughing as she watched me fall backward, blood mixing with the frosting. Everyone said, “It’s just a joke.”
But the next morning in the emergency room, the doctor studied my X-ray and immediately called 911—because what he saw… exposed a horrifying truth.
Part One: “It’s Just a Joke”
On my birthday, the room smelled like sugar and candles and cheap champagne. A pink cake sat in the center of the table, my name written across it in looping frosting. Everyone was laughing. Phones were out. Someone shouted for me to make a wish.
My sister stood closest to me.
She grinned, eyes bright with something that wasn’t kindness. Before I could even lean forward, her hands slammed the cake straight into my face.
The impact was harder than anyone expected.
I felt myself stumble backward, my heel catching on the rug. There was a sharp crack as my head hit the edge of the table, then the floor. For a split second, the room spun in white and pink. I tasted sugar—and then iron.
Blood mixed with frosting, dripping down my chin.
People screamed, then laughed nervously.
“Oh my God,” someone said, still chuckling. “It’s just a joke!”
My sister laughed the loudest. “Relax! You’re so dramatic.”
I tried to sit up. Pain exploded behind my eyes. My vision blurred, and the ceiling swayed like it was floating. Someone wiped my face with a napkin, smearing blood across my cheek.
“You’re fine,” my mother said quickly. “Don’t ruin the mood.”
I remember thinking how strange it was that my ears were ringing louder than the music.
I remember the taste of frosting as I swallowed blood.
I remember waking up hours later in my bed, alone, my head throbbing, my phone full of messages telling me not to be “too sensitive.”
By morning, I couldn’t lift my arm.
Part Two: The X-Ray That Changed Everything
The emergency room smelled like disinfectant and sleepless nights. The doctor asked how it happened. I hesitated, then said quietly, “I fell.”
He nodded, unconvinced, and ordered X-rays “just to be safe.”
I lay on the cold table staring at the ceiling, replaying the laughter over and over in my head. It’s just a joke. That sentence hurt almost as much as my skull.
When the doctor returned, he wasn’t smiling.
He stared at the image on the screen for a long time. Too long.
Then he left the room without a word.
Minutes later, he came back—with a nurse, a security officer, and his phone pressed to his ear.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I need emergency services. Immediately.”
My heart started pounding. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
He turned to me, his voice careful. “This isn’t a simple fall.”
He pointed to the X-ray. Even I could see it—fine fractures branching like cracks in glass, not just in my skull, but along my collarbone and ribs. Old fractures. Healed wrong. Layered.
“These injuries happened at different times,” he said gently. “Some weeks apart. Some months.”
I stared at the screen, my mouth dry.
“I don’t understand,” I whispered.
He met my eyes. “This pattern isn’t accidental. And the impact that brought you in today could have killed you.”
The word killed echoed in my ears.
“Who did this to you?” he asked softly.
I thought of my sister’s grin. My parents’ laughter. All the times I’d been shoved, tripped, “joked” into walls. All the times I’d been told I was clumsy. Sensitive. Overreacting.
My hands began to shake.
“I think…” My voice broke. “I think it was never a joke.”
Part Three: When Laughter Turns Into Sirens
The police arrived quietly. Calmly. Like this wasn’t the first time they’d seen something like me.
They didn’t accuse. They asked questions.
Who was there last night?
Who pushed you?
How often do you get hurt?
For the first time, I didn’t minimize. I didn’t protect anyone. I told the truth.
By evening, my phone was exploding.
My mother crying.
My father furious.
My sister screaming that I had “ruined everything.”
“You’re exaggerating!” she yelled over voicemail. “It was cake! Everyone saw it!”
Everyone had seen it.
That was the horrifying truth.
Everyone had seen it—and laughed.
The investigation didn’t take long. Videos surfaced. Old medical records were reviewed. Witnesses contradicted themselves. Patterns became impossible to ignore.
What started as a “birthday prank” became an assault case.
What they called humor was documented as violence.
I was moved to a different room that night, monitored closely, safe for the first time in years. As I lay there, ice wrapped around my head, I realized something terrifying and freeing all at once:
If that cake hadn’t been smashed into my face…
If I hadn’t fallen just right…
The truth might have stayed buried forever.
Sometimes it takes breaking something visible to expose what’s been shattered for years.
