Why I'm not moving to Canada in the case of a Trump presidency...

I’ll go ahead and admit it: I’ve browsed Canada’s immigration website this election season. A couple of times I’ve said to friends and aquantances that my leaving the country in the case of a Trump presidency isn’t outside the realm of possibility. I’m young and I’m at a place in my life where if I wanted to move, it would be possible. But the closer we get to November 8th, the more I’ve thought realistically about how I would cope if this guy wins the election. (I don’t think he will at this point, but I’m not capable of resting until I see the results for myself and he concedes.)

So here are a few thoughts:

  1. Is it not a little bit ethnocentric to talk about Canada as if it’s a dumping ground for pissed off Americans? Maybe we should lay off on the “I’m moving to Canada” jokes.
  2. Even though I’m not the most patriotic person you’ll ever meet, I realize that the people of this country (especially those in the south) are a part of my tribe. While, at times, I do feel like somewhat of a misfit in southeastern North Carolina, being from this area is a part of my identity. As infuriating as it has been watching people I think highly of jump on the bandwagon and support a man I find incredibly harmful and unfit for the presidency, there’s still a special place in my heart for these folks.
  3. I know far too many people who have spent their lives fighting for justice and equality in the U.S. to just pack up and move away. I feel like their stories are my inheritance, gifts to be recieved, and ones that should inspire action. I don’t feel like I can abandon the work they’ve begun.
  4. These days I find myself being inspired not only by people much older than me, but also by those 6, 10, and 16 year old voices. There’s something about the brightness and optimism that I see in them that keeps me going when I get cynical. I feel somewhat of an obligation to the younger generation, even though I’m in my early twenties myself. I suppose that’s the teacher in me, who feels protective over her students from the first moment she walks into the classroom.

I remember when I decided I wanted to become a Christian one of my worst fears was that God was going to send me to Africa to be a missionary. (Because that’s what Christians do, right?) These days I’m much more convinced God’s called me to minister and work for justice right here in the states, specifically in the south. I get angry, cuss, and fight with God about this every now and then, but I’m beginning to embrace the idea.

All this to say, regardless of what happens two weeks from now, I’ll be sticking around.