Should I Stay or Should I Go

by | Nov 13, 2024 | 0 comments

Two roads in a forest

“Should I stay or should I go?”

This is the question that many people I know have been asking, especially after learning the results of the 2024 presidential election. But it’s also a question that many people labeled “immigrant” or “refugee” have asked themselves.

This is a question asked at the crossroads.

Admittedly, I have been asking myself the same question for awhile. Some people I know are determined to stay in the U.S. They’re optimistic about the future of the United States (and the resilience of democracy) or they feel it is their patriotic duty–or both. And some are so in love with the land, family and community they know that they can’t bear to be uprooted from it.

Others are already making plans to leave or have already left. They’ve completed relocated to places like Spain, Portugal, Croatia or Mexico or they have embraced a nomadic lifestyle.

But yesterday I heard from an African American friend of mine who says her family is in stages of mourning and grief. It’s “not an option to move a 96-year old mother without a passport out of the country,” she wrote. I know someone else whose Lebanese parents were visiting but can’t return due to the bombing, and thus they’re all extremely worried about their status. Others can’t afford to make the move, or don’t know how they would do so, especially if they have children or aging parents to care for.

And still other people I know are at extreme risk of deportation, as they are immigrants.

So in this question, we might also be wondering: Am I being selfish if I leave willingly, especially when others–including those I love–cannot?

No matter what decision we make, if we are in this crossroads, feeling the fear of making this decision, we are experiencing a breaking. We are experiencing a breaking of hearts, a potential breaking from place and community, a breaking of commitments we might have made.

Everywhere we may also see the breaking, too–trees toppled by strong winds or hurricanes, homes broken by mudslides, entire neighborhoods and cities broken by bombs.

So what do we do when we’re at this crossroads, perhaps feeling immobilized?

One thing, I will say for now, helps me in these moments, and I will share more in my walks, workshops and writings.

Pay attention to the little things going on in the “broken” landscape: the woodpeckers and little insects happily eating away the fallen tree. Notice the squirrels slowly eating away at the pumpkins that we humans broke, carving them out for Halloween. Notice the neighbors who with even the smallest acts do something to support each other, bringing food over to the displaced family, shoveling water side-by-side down a flooded street, comforting a grieving person.

No matter what path we take, and what kind of breaking lies ahead, there is always the act of creation within it.

In Stephanie Burt’s poem, “Advice from Rock Creek Park,” she writes (and this is an excerpt):

Almost always better
to build than to wreck
You can build in a wreck
Under the roots
of an overturned tree

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