Many Things Are True: The Hard Choice to Leave
August 5, 2024
I have been working to learn over the last decade or so to reject binary frameworks: very little (but probably not nothing, I note with irony) is an all or nothing proposition; very little is as black and white as the convenient narratives and theories of my childhood made it seem. Instead, I am seeking to embrace life beyond the binary: both things can be true. Sometimes many things, even many seemingly opposing things, can be true in the same situation. There is no one perfect answer to basically any real question I have faced over these many years. There's not the one right job that is the only correct next career move I could make; there's no one right activity to devote myself to in my non-working time. Harder still to stomach: there is no one true evil matched by a perfect good on the other side.
My household of 3 has recently arrived in Ottawa, the capital city of Canada. We are living here indefinitely, as new permanent residents of Canada. If this comes as a surprise to you, I understand. My last post here, after all, was an homage to our previous city of Lincoln, Nebraska, and how deeply I love it and the community we are embedded in here. It feels wrong to say my family moved, because that wouldn't be fully true. My kid and my partner and I are moving. Much of the rest of my family will remain in Nebraska. My parents, who are devoted grandparents. My sister, who already lives a bit farther away, but only a half day's drive rather than a full day of flights. My grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. The adults I'm not related to by blood who are here in Lincoln, but who form such a strong network of care. People I've organized alongside, cried with, danced alongside with joy and abandon. These all are my family. I will miss each one so much.
My partner and I have been talking for a couple years now about whether we should leave, and when, and where we might go. One thing is certain: this has been the hardest decision of my life. We have truly agonized over what to do, in the sense that the decision has not just consumed mental energy; it has caused physical pain. I have grieved, I am grieving, this place that I love. That would keep happening even if we were to stay, I think. One of the things I have learned is that I love this place, and it is not a good place for many people. Maybe even, not for us. There are important needs that are not met for people here. There are many people who are working hard to make sure certain needs get met even less over time. I no longer recognize the "Nebraska values" that I thought I cherished, at least as expressed by many people in the highest halls of power, and the many, many people who have voted to support them, or who think they are doing a good job. Some of those people too, are people I love, or people who claim to love me.
I believe in the cause of those who choose to stay and fight for what Nebraska ought to be. I believe in the worthiness of those who stay because they have nowhere else to go, or no way to get there. The world we all deserve is a world we can build together, but it's not the world we have right now.
And also. The risks that my household in particular faces by staying here are a bit different from most other people I know. My wife is trans. Her transition has been such a joy to bear witness to and to walk alongside. She has a confidence and a creativity in daily life that was hidden before, under so many years of men's button-downs and full beards. She has shown me a path towards a freedom that I didn't know I might want for myself, too.
Together we have a child. Our kid needs, and deserves, both her mamas. We want our kid to grow up in safety. Don't all parents want that? Just last year a fifth grader brought a loaded gun to the elementary school down the street from our house in Lincoln. American children now routinely receive traumatic school shooting trainings, supposedly to keep them safe, in order to access education.
This is a fact faced by so many American parents. But our situation is a bit unique too, in that the most prominent members of one of the two major political parties in the US frequently appear on camera to talk about how people like my wife, a devoted, caring, and capable parent, are an unqualified danger to children. If you take these people at their word, which I think one should -- where does that lead us? If trans people are indeed a danger to children in the eyes of those with power, or outright pedophiles as many of the Republican base are convincing themselves... what does that mean for families like ours? How does that affect what safety we can access now, and what safety may look like for us in the future?
I believe that community can be a strong source of safety. Outside what is provided to us by the government, or by formal nonprofits, we can find safety in neighbors watching out for one another, in friend and community networks who share resources and skills. The community we had in Lincoln felt like a strong protective force against the world.
And also: I know that there are risks that a strong community may not be able to protect individuals from. This includes the risks posed by a carceral state focused on punishing or destroying any perceived deviance. In the world that today's Republican leadership wants, in Nebraska as in other states around the country, my household is chock full of deviance that they cannot tolerate, that they would like to punish or destroy.
So, we live in Canada now. It is a very uncanny mix of privilege and its opposite that has brought us here. Many people in our situation would not be able to make this move - we had the benefit of my French language skills and my officially desirable professional experience in tech helping our application, and the money and skills at navigating bureaucracy to meet the other application requirements for permanent residency. Many other people may think of moving, but the risks they face are different than ours. Maybe they don't have kids, or they don't mind expressing themself in ways that align with the gender they were assigned at birth, or there is no medication at risk of being taken away that they need to maintain the quality of life they want. In my ideal world, we'd have been living in Lincoln for the rest of our lives, and we'd never have a reason to leave.
But we live in Canada now. We are going to work hard to build community here, and integrate into the communities that exist already here in Ottawa. There are exciting aspects of being newcomers to Canada, and exploring this new city, and there is heartbreak. Oh, there is heartbreak. I try to find ways for hope to exist alongside the heartbreak. And joy. Wherever we go, wherever we end up, I know that there will be all of this: joy, heartbreak, hope, pain, community, love. We bring it with us wherever we go, and we find it wherever we are.