Really? Why?
That’s the question I keep hearing when people find out I’m moving my family out of the country ahead of President-elect Donald Trump’s impending administration.
Credit: Handout
Credit: Handout
It’s not that people don’t grasp the threats looming on the horizon. Or that they can’t empathize with the fears I have for my family.
I think the decision just falls outside their realm of possible responses. I get that. Most reactions are a mix of humor (“Take me with you!”) and something heavier.
One reader of The Atlanta Journal-Constitution poured her heart out: “Hot tears streamed down my face when I finished your letter. It felt like eight years of Trump’s tirades, threats and bigotry being washed away in a single moment.”
But then came the gut punch:
“Just because you’ve left doesn’t mean we don’t need you. Lift us up. Help us see what we don’t know. Keep writing, keep researching and keep an eye on Russia and how it affects us all.”
A family friend was more direct: “You’re courageous, but this move only benefits you. Think about the people you’re leaving behind — your family and friends who need your support. Use your skills to fight for a better world, no matter the obstacles.”
I can’t argue with that. He’s right.
I am removing my family from an unfriendly government. But I’d remind him, and anyone else, that my first obligation is to my family.
I wish we had the energy to stay and fight. I really do. But we’re spent. Too damned exhausted to endure another four years of cringing at every news alert, dreading which hotheaded outburst or tweet storm will follow.
The lineup of billionaire cronies and family members filling Trump’s administration is already triggering my mental muscle memory. The instinct to protect myself and my family from the storm feels almost primal.
And it’s not just Trump; it’s also the caustic ripple effects already coursing through society. Have you noticed how close people seem to the edge? One wrong word away from losing all restraint?
- A simple dispute with a store clerk morphs into a full-blown shouting match.
- Neighborhood social media is overflowing with paranoia, questioning the intentions of anyone who dares walk down the street or knock on a door, especially if they don’t “look” like they belong.
- Someone bumps into you, and suddenly it’s grounds for an explosion.
- And let’s not even start with the absurdity on airlines.
If we’re this frayed now, what happens when the nightly news amps up its drumbeat of blame? Immigrants accused of stealing jobs. Minorities blamed for crime. It’s a powder keg waiting for a match.
I want to live somewhere people start with a smile. Where helping someone at the grocery checkout is second nature. Where nobody’s calling city hall to report a kid’s lemonade stand for lacking a permit.
I don’t know if I’ll find that in Northern Ireland.
To be honest, they still talk about U.S. politics over there. After all, when one of the world’s superpowers — the one the United Kingdom relies on most — starts showing cracks, people have questions. It usually starts with “What the heck is happening over there?” And that is typically followed by “We’re so sorry.”
The difference is you can have that conversation without fear of triggering someone’s intense distrust of the other side. And if it does get too heated, a quick pivot to a recent soccer (er, football) match usually does the trick.
Maybe I’m seeing my experiences there through rose-colored memories. No doubt, I’ll feel the sting of what’s happening in the United States. It’s been my home for 62 years, and many in my family will remain.
But this is the life I want for my family. If that makes me selfish, so be it. At least I didn’t sell my principles over the price of a carton of eggs.
Todd Copilevitz, a marketing consultant, is a former reporter and columnist for The Dallas Morning News.
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