I’m not going to write about the U.S. election today. I’ve got nothing to add to the noise other than to vote if you are able to. I’m currently at home in Seoul, South Korea on a couch flanked by our Labrador Retriever and our tuxedo cat. The dog is sound asleep, snoring. The cat is grooming herself and sneaking in stares at me between licks. I am at peace in this very moment; grateful that such serenity exists in the purest, simplest forms. It is Tuesday morning in America at last. This serenity feels fleeting.
I arrived in Seoul a little over a week ago and I will be here through the end of the week. Some would say I fled America during what is arguably the most consequential election of our lifetime. I tell them I came to visit my family during the most beautiful time of the year in Korea and to celebrate my sister’s birthday. The latter was the impetus, the former was a little bonus. My dual citizenship has afforded me a physical respite from the chaos that will ensue for days but I cannot deny my Americanness in this moment.
I’ve lived in America for 11 years now. I was 21 and in my last year at NYU when Donald Trump was elected in 2016. The morning after election night still haunts me to this day. My professors cancelled class and the barista at my coffee shop cried while pulling my espresso shot. And since then, my own rhetoric surrounding life in America has been riddled with apathy, disillusionment and betrayal. Not just because of the crushing, embarrassing reality that is Trump’s America but also because of the dupe of liberal representational politics.
The delusion of the American empire has long plagued my mind and it has continued since 2016 and will continue no matter who wins this election. This delusion exists, grows and multiplies because that is the very nature of a nation that represses critical debate and political action seeking to challenge its dominance. It lulls you into a languid state by convincing you of its inherent goodness, its necessity, that the only way to exist is for capitalism, white supremacy and patriarchy to be the driving forces of the nation but it keeps mutating and taking on many faces. It could look like Joe Biden, it could look like Kamala Harris, it could look like you, it could look like me. We all fall prey to the system because that is how we make it in America. That is how we survive. And when the system is you, it can’t possibly betray you, right?
This is how capitalism and the delusion of empire implicate us. Many of us believe that there are ways to protect citizens without waging proxy wars or enabling a genocide, that mass consumption is wrong, the rich cannot keep getting richer, that there is a way to coexist across the spectrum of identities. But we are too wrapped up in our own compulsions and greed that we aren’t ascending into a greater mode of being that we all seek. The delusion of empire makes us feel like we are helpless, that we must hold onto our entitlement, our elitism, our narcissism in order to achieve upward mobility. It pits us against each other in our own communities and in communities abroad. It fear mongers.
I once had a man, with his heteronormative masculinity and nationalist pride proclaim, “If you don’t like it here, maybe you should leave!” after hearing about my gripes on democracy and feigned liberal ideologies. There are so many things wrong with that statement, namely the ethnocentric attitude that somehow I don’t belong in America if I possess this hypercritical lens; how dare I flesh out my discontents about a nation that is actually failing us. But I’ll instead focus on my response, in which I said, “But I do like it here and I’m not leaving!” I stay because in my disillusionment and my betrayal, there is a call to reimagine what America could look like if it prioritized people over power. If we all did our part in pursuit of a better country, a more equitable society, a kinder, more loving world. There is a steadfast belief that a better reality is possible and maybe I can be a part of it. This work, of community and true freedom, doesn’t start with any on candidate. But it’s still in all of us.
That this isn’t going to be a “landslide” victory the Democratic Party has in the bag will surely be studied for generations to come. I hope they take note. It must be people over power. People over imperialism. People over arrogance. I honestly wasn’t even planning on writing anything at all but I woke up with an urge to remind ourselves that no matter what happens, there is so much work to do to learn how to be human. How to expand with love, how to foster community, how to forgive, how to move with care, how to put down our pessimism and capitalist conditioning and keep marching forward.
I was talking to a Swedish guy who has been living in America as long as I have and just got his American citizenship earlier this year. This morning, he sent me a selfie with his “I VOTED 2024” sticker. He says he feels hopeful. We are both expats from nations that do a pretty good job at taking care of its citizens. Yet, there is something to be said about our insistence on holding dual citizenship with America. We carved out a life of belonging, no matter how jagged and rough those edges may be. Yes, democracy very much feels like it's veering off course—actually, possibly even careening off of a cliff. But I do know that the solution isn’t in leaving the country because you’re acutely aware of how fucked up it is. As a woman of color, I always knew that there was work to be done in order to find a sense of belonging in this country. That work started the moment I got to America and the work will continue. The reality is that we owe so much more to ourselves and to each other. I want to give one more last ditch effort to commit to what I’m hopeful for. And to never see Elon Musk’s midriff ever again.
With love always,
Laura
What a great piece! Thank you for sharing your perspective and mindset with us. Fingers crossed 🤞🏻
James Baldwin was one our most brilliant and gifted authors.