Fellow Countrymen (and women), I've been meaning to write a post on moving to Canada for quite some time. Today, perhaps more than ever, is the appropriate time to write such a piece. Friends, I made many comments a year ago about moving to Canada if Trump became President. At the time both moving to Canada and a Trump presidency seemed mere impossibilities. They have, however, each become not only possibilities but realities. I did not move to Canada because I feared a Trump Presidency. In fact, until I woke up several times last night from dreams where Trump had won, I never imagined it would become reality. I moved to Canada because I had no solid game plan towards my next life move. Canada offered a private-school education I could afford that happened to be an hour and a half away from a man who has never failed to show me the selfless, giving, and forgiving love I still believe America is capable of. Canada is not perfect. Just like America, it has its own set of problems and, in many ways, continues to fail at addressing them. And to me, an American, Canada is missing the square-shouldered, forward blazing confidence that, although historically problematic at times, is definitive of the progress oriented, mover and shaker mindset that is so ubiquitously home. Over the past few months, as I have become accustomed to a new place and grown okay with not being in Alaska, I have realized how dedicated to my nation I truly am. Growing up in the pacifist tradition-- patriotism was often associated with militarism and therefore negatively con-notated. This is a misconception I have worked hard to overcome. I miss the vastness of America. From the Appalachians to the Tetons and Denali to the Grand Canyon, our homeland is as geographically beautiful and diverse as its people. America is a land where refugees can become citizens and, sometimes for the first time in their lives, vote. America is a place where a woman whose life has been greatly impacted by natural and medical disasters, still puts her time and energy in making sure her neighborhood is fed. America is home of the Krispy Kreme Burger and the Ironman Triathlon. It is a place where yogis, pastors, politicians, and scientists join together to cheer for a Superbowl win or clean-up from a natural disaster. It is a nation that was founded by immigrants, progressed by minority groups and women, and matured by its own mistakes. America, yesterday you made a mistake. Yesterday you chose hate, bigotry, and money to govern you. Yesterday you forgot your own rich and vibrant history. Yesterday you forgot what it was like to be a refugee, a stranger in a foreign land, a loving neighbor. To my American friends who see this mistake: cope. Run 7 miles, eat the damn chocolate, allow yourself a glass of wine, do what it takes to remember you are alive. But please, my white, straight, middle-class American friends, recognize that while telling yourself 'it will be okay' is largely true, telling your black, Muslim, LGBTQ(+) friends the same, is probably a lie. And my American friends who fall under the former category, those who are hastily looking up housing and immigration in Canada: close the browser window. Close the browser window and call your friends in the latter category. Tell them you love them. Offer to bake them something. And for the next day or two, mourn together at the power of hate existent in our nation. But my American friends, we will have to move on. We will have to do more than cope, than come accustomed to the tragedy that has begun in our lives. We will have to observe the patterns of history as it begins to repeat itself and we will have to learn ways in which we can convey those patterns to our neighbors who wont seek them out themselves. We will have to protect and serve our friends whose beautiful non-white/christian/straight selves are now at risk. We will have to answer, on every level, the message of fear and hate with one of love and compassion. I am living in Canada. I have friends and professors that have shown support and solidarity in my fear for my country. They do not understand what we are going through and they know they do not understand. And though Canada will be my home for the next 3-4 years, know that not a day passes that I am not utterly aware of my Americanness. Know that as certain as I am in my need to stay at CMU, to earn a degree, to cherish the man whose heart is as into making the world a little brighter and who feels as alive in nature as I do-- I have not given up or forgotten my homeland. Now, more than ever, she needs me. She needs us. Love, An American in Canada
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Elizabeth SchragAdventurer. Biblical and Theological Studies major. Borderline Vegan. Rebel with a cause. Archives
March 2017
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