Every time I think I managed to get under America’s skin I realize I don’t know it at all. I’ve traveled to most of the states at this point - by train, boat, doggie-sled, plane, horseback, sea plane, snowboard, and a wagon of some kind - and, of course, also road tripped virtually across every inch of this giant, glorious lump of a country.
I semi-permanently descended on New York in my mid 20s, fell in love and oh-so-quickly realized that Manhattan is not America. But if I chose to live in this country (and as I did, eventually become a citizen) I needed to unveil as much as possible of it - the delicious, the wicked, the confusing, and all the rest. So I went everywhere.
For me, America represents opportunity - tainted by Nixon, the nightmare previous administration and, of course, decades of unnecessary imperialism. But nevertheless a very specific set of circumstances plus this Muti (a gorgeous word from my childhood, that to me means a kind of alchemy) that comes together making something possible, a moment to eke out a little oasis for yourself…and as they say, ONLY in America…
But that’s why travel is so crucial - to understand all the nuance that bubbles underneath this place of roughly 350m people. Try spending time in San Francisco and then judge it (read my SPIN magazine piece here), or walk every neighborhood of Baltimore (read that SPIN magazine piece here) before you come to a foregone conclusion…and the Gulf Coast of Mississippi, well go and then let’s talk about it (read about my trip here).
It’s hard to ignore the realities at the border of Mexico when you’re actually there - not the hyped fake-news-nonsense the media plays out, but the plight of people seeking a better life. It’s also impossible not to feel sympathy when you venture into areas across the Mid West where big industry has left people behind in the most wicked of ways. Not to mention when you spend enough time in parts of - particularly - the West and the South, where climate change is changing the landscape in front of your very eyes.
Speaking of the South - the best way to think about it, is that it isn't a monolithic thing. It's nuanced, beautiful, and utterly complicated. If you stop judging it - and come and see it for yourself with a little less snide, perhaps you could actually learn something? I did an episode on my podcast about exactly this. Listen to it here.
America is just a possibility. As Barack Obama says: “America as an experiment is genuinely important to the world not because of the accidents of history that made us the most powerful nation on Earth, but because America is the first real experiment in building a large, multiethnic, multicultural democracy. And we don’t know yet if that can hold. There haven’t been enough of them around for long enough to say for certain that it’s going to work.”
And this is where my heart sinks but also where I hold my cup of hope…when I travel around the country and people invite me into their homes, or randomly share a joint with me on a dusty road…or huddle with me on some form of public transport I feel like we’re so completely different, but exactly the same. I believe in human goodness, in connection - and I believe that Americans want to choose love and kindness.
Growing up in South Africa, currently FINALLY facing the backlash of a horrid Apartheid regime, has made me see this situation through a very specific tainted lens. But even so, what I know to be true is we have yet to reckon with America’s past - starting with thanksgiving.
Speaking of former presidents. I joined the crew at the Ridiculous History podcast once to explore the paradoxical relationship Teddy Roosevelt, the ultimate American icon, had with conservation and hunting, and how a Teddy Bear inspired me to travel to over 120 countries. You can listen to that crazy discussion right here.
Real America
…is not at Gate 32
I sometimes tell this story where I am standing in the Phoenix airport by myself. I was coming, or was I going? That horrible election had just taken place, and we’d somehow found ourselves in a place where who I fuck matter to voters, where I lived and how much I had studied gave me a supposedly bad nickname in the media, where unwanted babies inside you or wanted ones at the border were equally caged and even where I was from concerned voters. I looked around and thought, fuck here it is: A-MERI-CA. Real America…