Born in the USA: Why Do We Stay?

...for those of us who stay, the people from all over the world who have come here, made a life, a family, a story, a big complicated story with tendrils into light and darkness.

Let me start by saying that I am not now, nor have I ever been, a Bruce Springsteen fan. I’ve heard his music, but I never owned any of it. But this is at least partly a Bruce Springsteen story. Bruce is very much an American artist, and I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my own relationship to this country as friends keep leaving, one by one, to move to New Zealand, Australia, and Wales.

According to recent surveys, one in four Americans have considered leaving the country since the election. That’s a lot of us.

When I grew up in the cult, I didn’t feel American at all. We were told by the leader that America was a terrible place. Full of evil. We were going to Canada or South America or possibly to sail around the world on trimarans. We weren’t clear if these places had less evil. I couldn’t wait to get out of America.

When I left the Farm to go out into the world of evil, I didn’t think of myself as an American. I had a blue passport as a means to quit the country. I still thought I might find a safe place elsewhere. When I heard people talk about California, I thought it sounded like another country. I decided to go there. People told me there was plenty of sin in California, but by that time, I was getting curious about sin. I wanted to see it up close and personal. Maybe try my own hand at sin. (I wasn’t sure what sin I would try first. Possibly fornication.)

The first time I thought of myself as an American was when I left the country. I had a scholarship to France, and spent the summer learning French. Our last night in Europe, we were set to fly out of Brussels because the Paris airport was closed, so we went dancing. But I was lonely dancing, thinking how much I missed the United States.

What I missed more than anything was Mexican food. Around ASU, the Mexican food was delicious: layers of cheese, avocados, tortillas, salsa, the enchiladas perfect, the mole, abundant. The Belgian boys were happy to be dancing with this frothy cloud of American girls, and suddenly “Born in the USA” came on, and we were screaming to it, as if it were our lifeblood. I remember feeling the Boss’s music throbbing through my American veins and dripping with longing for margaritas and salsa.

When we miss America, we miss Mexican food. We miss the churros at the park, the Chinese food we eat on Thursdays. We miss the Vietnamese place where we go for soup when we are sick. We miss our favorite Armenian bakery, the place we go for naan and tandoori on Sundays. We miss kosher delis and Middle Eastern grocery stores. In Los Angeles, we visit Korean markets to buy fresh fish and sushi rice and make sushi at home, spreading out the nori, preparing our rolls.

When we say we miss America, we are missing all the cultures that make America glorious. When you go to Greece, they have Greek food; when you go to Japan, they have Japanese food; when you come to this country, we have everything.

All of this is why being at the London Book Fair this past week was overwhelming. The Europeans don’t understand why America doesn’t like them or Canada anymore. They know how the 47^th president felt about Mexico and Latin America in general. That wasn’t a secret. But Europe? Canada? We’ve shocked the Brits by forming an adversarial relationship with the country of maple syrup.

In London, I met people from all over the world. “What is America doing?” they asked. “What is the point of America stepping away from all of their allies and destroying your own economy? You’re going to war with Canada?”

It’s hard to come up with anything logical to say. Whenever someone says they want the America of the Fifties, I think, in 1950, redlining was legal. People of color made half what Whites did. White women made 60% of what White men did. Basically, America was great for one group: white men.

The US is not leading the charge anymore, according to the Europeans who spoke to me. The US has lost the trust of the world and is no longer a global leader. We may not be able to regain that trust.

I love the city of London. Love walking across Hyde Park, the daffodils, the swans. I love the many languages spoken; the book fair with its rush of people from across the globe. I am in the swim of London.

Since college, when I first realized I liked being an American, I’ve wondered how I feel about God and country. I thought I left God in New Hampshire, but I keep talking with her, even in California. I have never thought that America was an exceptional country. America’s treatment of Native Americans, African Americans, Latinos, Asians, and women was exceptionally bad. But in new ways, America has taken a back seat in global leadership.

Is there still a chance for America? Of course. Greece was once a great empire, and it is no longer, but it’s still a great country. I love visiting Greece; I might go back this summer. Italy had a world empire for a thousand years, and it’s still a great country. The British empire ended, and England is still part of the world order, respected for their king and queen. The US is no longer the leader of the free world, but we will still have a chance to thrive, to change, to do better.

When I visit London, and see the people of the Commonwealth living throughout the city, that’s what I love most, and that’s what will make America a country worth staying in for those of us who stay, the people from all over the world who have come here, made a life, a family, a story, a big complicated story with tendrils into light and darkness.

No story is perfect. No story is entirely safe. The best stories don’t have a happy ending, but instead, one adventure that leads to another. For all of us who still call America home, we don’t have to be the leader of the free world. But it would be nice to treat each other well, to have trust among nations, to treat the people of this country well. America still has much about it that is amazing; the people who are compassionate, who want to change the world. As I like to say, it’s the people who we climb the mountain with. Let’s keep climbing, my friends; let’s not give up.