Go Back to Your Country

What would happened if I actually tried to leave the United States?

Photo by Ketut Subiyanto: https://www.pexels.com/photo/friendly-man-with-us-flag-kerchief-in-hands-4560075/

The world is scary. I wanted to start this essay off with something less on the nose, but right now, that’s all I have. The world is scary, and the constant feeling of anxiety, caused by the chaos around all of us, has made it increasingly difficult to write. As much as it brings me joy, finding the time, and emotional energy to put words together has been a struggle. I have a deep desire to say a lot of things, but I don’t know how to start. I’ll open the notepad, get overwhelmed by the emptiness, then find myself slowly unable to write.  In my defense, there’s a lot to be stressed about these days. Covid is still spinning the block, Republicans e are passing bills making it illegal to talk about Black history, and Niggas are still getting shot and killed in cold blood. Now more than ever, it feels like we are in the middle of a declining dynasty, and the smartest thing to do is escape. But how, and to where? 

With no energy to write, I started thinking about what life would look like if I saved up all of my money, bribed my partner, and at the end of the year moved to Haiti. My mother was born and raised there, so with the right lawyer and a strong pitch, I could probably make an argument for citizenship. With the money saved, I could buy land, and live a fairly comfortable life. But could I? Probably not. Haiti is one of the poorest countries in the world, their last “Democratically” elected President was assassinated.

Besides being the place my mother lives, Haiti is a case study of the level of destruction governments driven by capitalism and white supremacy can accomplish. Its resources were stolen by European countries like France and Spain and the United States completely undermined its finances and government.  Honestly, a  move to Haiti wouldn’t be a retirement from whiteness, it would just be a commitment to engage and battle white supremacy on another stage. One where it might not even be my place to fight, because essentially, I would be gentrifying. I’m tired of fighting capitalism and challenging white supremacy, so Haiti could no longer be in consideration, that’s when Ghana came to mind. 

Without paying to give away my DNA to one of those suspect companies, I’m fairly sure that my ancestors originate from Western Africa. Right now, Ghana is offering citizenship to any black person who can trace their lineage there. Could I convince Marilyn to go? Maybe, we would have to bring her mother, but I think that could work. I have enough political experience to get a government job of some sort, and if that didn’t work, I could try to fast-track my dream of getting a book deal, then leverage that into a career as an arm-chair liberal. Would someone pay me to write a book, though? Maybe. With a very unlikely plan in mind, I started to do my research, and almost immediately, I found out the influence that America’s white-ass, racist-ass, Evangelical Christians have had on the Ghana government. 

White Evangelicals have poisoned much of Ghana’s government and leadership with their warped and hate-filled ideas on religion. As a result, Ghana in some ways is as conservative as Alabama aka White Wakanda. 

Realizing that the two places I considered options for safe havens, were also influenced by the thing I was trying to escape, felt like a gut punch.  Is there no corner in our world that is safe from this bullshit? And if things are this gloomy everywhere else, where the hell will I find the mental space and emotional energy to write?! Or even worse, what if the place I lay my head has no impact on my abilities, and the real problem is that I have nothing left to say? I guess I better keep writing.