When I started telling people I would be studying abroad in the U.S. this year, the most consistent response I would get was “Wow, what an interesting time it’ll be to be living there.” As the months went on and the reality of the potential future set in, the subtext behind the word “interesting” turned from “what a historic election to witness” to “what a scary time to exist in that country.”
It is not like we’ve been experiencing a politically peaceful life in the U.K. for the last few years either – we have run through five inept Prime Ministers from the Conservative party in the last five years, one of whom was famously outlasted by a live stream of decaying lettuce. But when I speak to Americans about British politics, they maybe remember Boris Johnson for his cartoonish gaffes, or just about recall that we had a general election this summer that ended fourteen years of Conservative rule. American politics reverberates around the world in a way that no other country comes close to.
In a way, it is frustrating to me that the U.S. maintains such a hold on the rest of the world, because frankly to most non-Americans, the political state of this country is a joke. I am sure there are many Americans who agree with that too, but there is something unique about sitting back and watching from a distance as the country with the most power and influence on the planet loses all credibility by instilling infallibility onto some of the most unqualified characters in international politics.
As a child, the U.S. was the magical place I saw on Disney Channel, with the accent everyone put on in songs no matter where they were from. Telling people that I had family here made me cool. Everyone wanted to live here when they grew up, including me. And then, abruptly, the disillusionment hit. The more I watched dystopian events unfolding across the Atlantic, the more I began to lose faith in the idea that the U.S. was so ahead of the game in anything but military spending.
The perspective it has given me is strange. The British government has had relentless disasters, resignations and its fair share of strange characters. It is far from perfect, and there is a huge percentage of the population peddling views that I consider shockingly regressive. But I cannot imagine for a second that some of the people on the biggest stages in the U.S. would be anything but laughed out of the room back home. The way in which so many American citizens blindly idolize and worship politicians who are little more than entertainment figures is astonishing to me; but then again, Hollywood always was America’s biggest selling point.
Things suck everywhere. That is something that people (or maybe just skeptics) on all sides of the political spectrum tend to agree on. I am not pretending like the U.S. is the only place that has had unhinged, incompetent and unaccountable leaders, nor has it suffered the most inhumane acts because of them compared to other countries—or that political chaos and drama are a novelty here. But between the leaning towards dictatorial figures and the incomprehensible amount of influence America holds on the world stage, it is a much scarier place to be than I first realized.
The amount of fear I feel over this election feels disproportionate. I know I am lucky to be living in a blue state, on a campus that largely shares my values. No matter the outcome of the election, I will have left the country by June. When a British friend of mine studying abroad in Montana said he wanted to attend a Trump rally just to see what it was like, I was suddenly very aware of how different my life could be in another state. Sure, something like that would be a “historic” thing to experience, but as a non-straight, non-white woman, I would rather take my chances in Minnesota.
Even so, I have found myself disengaging from following the election’s progress, as much as I consider myself someone who is politically engaged. While I might not be directly affected by the outcome, just the principle of it is enough to nauseate me. At some point in the last few years, U.S. politics became too surreal – or maybe too real – to stomach.
I am having the time of my life being here now, and I am so grateful for the opportunity, but after just two months, the biggest thing this experience has taught me is that I do not think I could spend the rest of my life in this country.
Maybe it’s not just the politics. Maybe it is just the natural disenchantment of growing up. But to me, for now, the American Dream is well and truly dead.
