Visiting Trump's America

I boarded DL 41 from Los Angeles to Sydney late on Monday 7 November - just hours before polls opened on the East Coast for the 2016 US Presidential Election. I recall thinking with a touch of nostalgia as I passed through exit immigration, that no matter what the outcome - it would be the last time I would see a photo of a smiling Barack Obama on the wall behind the un-smiling immigration agent.

Twelve years I've been living abroad now, and I've been coming and going from USA at fairly regular intervals ever since. And for the first time ever, I'll admit I had some anxiety about my trip home - my first trip to Trump's America.

In all these years, I have only ever observed relatively modest changes between visits - better beer (or maybe I just have better taste now), the proliferation the of gluten-free industrial complex and toddlers with personal cell phones.

But when I visited in July of this year, I really did expect America to feel much different. And if I'm completely honest, it felt mostly like the America that I know so well: security guards dressed like storm troopers at suburban supermarkets, everything (that wasn't furniture) in my hotel room was for sale, and lots of neon-orange plastic cheese (for which I have a secret soft-spot).

It has taken me awhile to process this trip and my thoughts change daily alongside the breaking news. When I arrived back in Australia in mid-July, I had come to the conclusion that I was both relieved and a little impressed that people seemed to be bravely soldiering on despite the fact that Donald Trump occupies the White House.

But, there was also a tiny part of me that was a little appalled that it seemed to be business as usual - I mean Donald Trump is POTUS. I live 9,852 miles and 14 time zones from Washington DC and I'm freaking out. Daily.

Then Charlottesville happened.

And worse than being appalled, I was utterly un-surprised.

And that was when the unsettled feeling I had about how 'normal' America had felt came creeping back.

Now, Donald Trump is not personally responsible for Charlottesville.

If we are passing around blame, and let's face it, there is a lot to go around. The Republican Party takes the lion's share. The Republican Party has undeniably made the current situation 'normal'. They have been building towards this moment for years. Aiding and abetting the worst instincts of white America, every single step of the way. Voter fraud. Gerrymandering. Birther-ism. The list goes on.

Donald Trump is nothing more than a startlingly accurate caricature of everything they have embraced and who has turned out to be far more than they bargained for.

And don't start lecturing me on the plight of the white working class. I've heard it. I get it. I really do. I am a product of rural, white, middle America. This is just so much bigger. Quite literally according to Mother Jones:

Based on preelection polling data, if you tallied the popular vote of only white America to derive 2016 electoral votes, Trump would have defeated Clinton 389 to 81, with the remaining 68 votes either a toss-up or unknown.

So.

Do I think that everyone who voted for Trump is a dyed-in-wool racist? Of course not.

Do I think everyone who voted for Trump advocates sexual assault? Of course not.

But do I think if you voted for Trump, you did exactly as the Republican Party has been doing for years, and say: I have no fucks to give about anyone but myself? You're goddamn right I do.

White America, we fucked up. We fucked up bad. And we've been fucking up for a very long time. In his recent article, The First WhitePresident, Ta-Nehisi Coates, sums it up better than I ever could:

And so the most powerful country in the world has handed over all its affairs—the prosperity of its entire economy; the security of its 300 million citizens; the purity of its water, the viability of its air, the safety of its food; the future of its vast system of education; the soundness of its national highways, airways, and railways; the apocalyptic potential of its nuclear arsenal—to a carnival barker who introduced the phrase grab ’em by the pussy into the national lexicon. It is as if the white tribe united in demonstration to say, “If a black man can be president, then any white man—no matter how fallen—can be president.”

And before you puff yourself up into righteous indignation, I'm not schilling for the Democratic Party or even the left. I was never crazy-go-nuts for Hillary and liberals (real ones, not these safe-space, anti-free-speech pretenders) need to get their shit together. I'm looking at you, Southern Poverty Law Center.  But let's save that for another time.

So back to my original point. I've been to Trump's America and I will return to Trump's America, but next time I really hope it feels different. The right kind of different.

Or even better, let there be a new smiling face behind the un-smiling immigration officer.

Please just don't let it be Mike Pence.

Now, go grab ’em by the pussy America, and sort this shit out.

Petty convenience, freedom & the welfare state

I can recall early trips abroad and tying myself up in knots over the lack of the petty conveniences that make up day-to-day life in America:

Haven't these people heard of air conditioning?
Can I get some ice please?
Whaddya mean everything isn't open 24 hours?

These are the things that you can hear travelling Americans complaining about loudly on golf courses around the world and these were the things that I missed when I first moved abroad too. However, I quickly discovered that in reality I had no idea what I'd actually been living without all those years. Ice in my drinks became irrelevant.

I moved abroad for graduate school, got an impractical masters degree from an excellent university, met a boy and never came home. Those first years of post-college adulthood are tough (wherever you are) - and I was woefully unprepared for them. Like many young graduates I didn't realise how much more actual experience is valued over where you went to college or what grades you received. I, inevitably, ended up in a string of jobs that I saw as 'beneath' me, but in retrospect provided exactly the experience that I needed.

It was hard - and it should be hard, but I also realised that so many of the things that my 20-something friends back in the US were losing sleep over, just weren't a problem for me. I had instant access to universal healthcare, that legendary European tax burden that Americans love to hate was actually less than it would have been in Illinois and I was accruing undreamed of amounts of paid vacation time.

I wasn't earning much more than minimum wage and my (now) husband was getting by on a PhD stipend, but it was enough to make ends meet.  We were eligible for a modest weekly tax-credit that made such a difference to us financially, that we're probably still feeling the ripple effects of it to this day. Demonize the welfare state all you want, but it helped to get us from struggling young graduates to productive, tax-paying members of society; seems like a pretty good return on investment to me.

Next week I commence year 10 as an expat and the things that I once missed about living in America now confound me. I get flustered with the military precision of the drive-thru; the amount of choice (and wastage) in grocery stores completely overwhelms me; and driving everywhere just leaves me in a semi-permanent state of carsickness.

We visit the US regularly and my (British) husband rarely fails to observe that you have the freedom to do everything in American except have fun. How true. You can take an assault rifle to the grocery store but can't legally enjoy a cold beer in the park on a sunny day.

Americans like to bang on about freedom ad nauseam, but in the UK and now Australia we are free to do so much more. We are free to take a (paid!) vacation; free to have a beer outside; free not to live in fear of guns in the wrong hands; free not to be denied healthcare because the freedom of a corporation trumps our own. We have free speech (but money is mercifully not free speech), free religion (or no religion), and certainly a free(er) press.

Don't get me wrong, there are many things I love about America and I believe that Americans are a genuinely smart, generous, an innovative bunch, that are trapped in a self-made political system that is held hostage by the highest bidder and lunatic fringe. I'm also not saying that everything in the UK or Australia is perfect; both countries currently have unpopular, centre-right governments with particularly bad education and environmental policies. Nowhere is perfect, but we are lucky enough to mostly (Malaysia was a bit of a black spot) live in places that match our values and priorities far better than America does or can at this point in time.

So sure, I will always believe that your first-world status should be called into question if you still have separate hot and cold water taps; but on the whole a few minor inconveniences are a small price to pay for the social safety net and well-being that comes with living in a society where those on the bottom - or those just starting out (like we were!) aren't left to flounder and struggle.  Ironically, living abroad is what has enabled me to achieve the so-called American Dream.

Why I don't want to live in America anymore

A question that I get asked a lot is some variation on: Do you miss living in America? Do you want to go back?

The answer is, no. And nothing sums up why better than this advertisement:




While I loathe everything about this commercial from his over-quaffed Aryan looks to his souless Pottery Barn house and smug (completely misguided) superiority; it does succinctly sum up exactly why I don't want to live in America any more.

America has a lot of seriously misguided priorities, but at the most fundamental, human level is the right to take some time off to go on a vacation (or staycation). Further, the insinuation that the rest of the world is lazy, is so ridiculous that I'm not even going to bother discussing it.

Here in Australia we are entitled to a legal minimum of 4 weeks + public holidays paid annual leave, although 5 weeks + public holidays is standard for the public sector. I know that entitlement in the US varies widely, but the fact that there is no legally-guaranteed minimum is enough to keep me out of the country. (Of course, Australia also has a minimum wage of $17.00+ an hour, legal entitlement to paid maternity leave, and a healthcare system where I don't lose sleep about bankruptcy over a broken leg.)

I personally know of American-based friends and family who have worked in high-level jobs requiring a minimum of a masters degree and they have had 1 vacation day per month that had to be taken within that month.  I've heard of people refused time off for their own wedding. I know that some employers in the US are more generous than others, but it is a cold, hard fact that we find it much more difficult to travel with or get visits from our US-based friends and family than their European and Australian counterparts. The Americans are squeezed for time down to the hour.

I have lived on the other side of the world for over 9 years, and I am certain that my generous paid-leave entitlements have left me with far more time to go home for long breaks and spend quality time with my family and friends - far more so than if I lived in California and had to squeeze in a flying visit to Illinois once a year.

I know that people have different priorities and if you want to work yourself into the ground and collect lots of stuff for the house that you're never in - to each their own. But study after study has clearly shown that workers with more paid time off are more productive, happier and more likely to stay in the job.

So, to the guy in the Cadillac ad - enjoy collecting your cookie-cutter junk, asshole, I'm going to go stop at the cafe, see the world and spend time with the people I care most about.

Oh, and thanks to excellent public transportation and the ability to walk places without having to cross a freeway, we don't need your Cadillac either.

N'est-ce pas?