I’m Leaving the U.S.

As scholar and activist Angela Davis said, “I am no longer accepting the things I cannot change. I am changing the things I cannot accept.” As I’m writing this blog post, I’m in the middle of packing up my apartment and trying to push down the fear that keeps popping up, although I know it’s a losing battle. Suppressing your emotions never works long-term, yet here I am, trying to tell myself that I’m not scared of leaving the only country I’ve called home. A country that despises me. A country that tells me every day in so many words that I should be lucky to live here, that I should thank my lucky stars that somehow, the universe saw fit to plop me in the United States when I arrived on Earth. Ha!

The past couple of weeks have been brutal – not unlike most weeks being Black in the United States. Gun violence is rampant; 16-year-old Ralph Yarl was shot in the head for the unthinkable act of…ringing the wrong doorbell. In my home state of Missouri – go figure. The shooter said he was scared of someone he described as a 6-foot-tall Black man. Ralph is a 5-foot-8 Black boy. In the shooter’s deep fear, he did the logical thing – something anyone would do if they feared someone was breaking into their house. He opened the door. The glass door. And shot young Ralph right through that door. You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m not sure how things keep getting more and more absurd here, but somehow, they do.

Put simply, I’m done. The United States has completely depleted me. I have no hope. I tried to contribute my talents and natural gifts towards helping this country become better. More just. More equitable. And I ended up learning the hard lesson that many Black historical figures eventually had to come to terms with – all of it is a losing battle. This country doesn’t want to be better. It likes how things are. In fact, it singles you out and deems you as a threat if you dare try to make things better. Especially if you’re Black. Forget it if you’re a Black woman or have other marginalized identities. You might as well pack up your things early and call it quits. This place doesn’t want us to live, let alone value our contributions.

So, I’m either selling, donating, or packing up everything I own, ending my overpriced lease early, and my little family and I are moving to Mexico for the time being. I don’t know how long we’ll be there – the plan is to stay for 6 months and see how we like it and where we end up. Having traveled outside of the U.S. once before, I received immediate confirmation that not everywhere is as effed up as this place, founded on the bones and blood of people who didn’t consent to participate in the ‘American experiment.’ No where is perfect – after all, we do live on a planet that has been colonized and horrifically extracted from as a result. But, listen to me, there ARE places that are not like this. You know exactly what I’m talking about.

We’ll see how this move goes. I hope it is everything I’ve dreamed about and more. I hope I am able to work on my online businesses that will allow me to share the knowledge I have gained with the people who need it, and help my spouse do the same. I hope we are able to strengthen our relationship without the external pressures that feel damn near suffocating in the U.S. I hope our dog does well on the plane – this will be his first time flying. All in all, I hope we’re able to finally find peace. Or something that closely resembles it.

I’m learning to not have any expectations of what I’m entering into, that way I’m pleasantly surprised. Shout out to Picky Girl Travels the World for this advice. But y’all, even if it doesn’t work out in Mexico, I don’t think I can come back to the U.S. long-term. It’s too dangerous. Too soul-crushing. Too wrong.

This time, I think I’m done for good. I’m leaving the U.S. and not looking back. Ok, maybe just one glance back at Nothing But Noodles, my favorite restaurant, but other than that, I’m not looking back. I’m finally ending this narcissistically abusive relationship.