CHAPTERS on If America was my friend, this is what I'd tell her
A very journalistic think-piece on the US election
Back in 2012, I went to Chicago to intern on the US election. An English girl, with an accent that nobody could understand, I felt like I was in a film. I knocked on doors and raised donations for an amazing congressional candidate, now Senator, called Tammy Duckworth.
A special time in my life and a more hopeful time in the world. Tammy beat her opposing tea-party Republican candidate by a landslide and President Obama was re-elected. Hoorah. Since then I have watched from across the pond as the country I loved got, for want of a better word, Trumped.
This weekend, I am back in Chicago 12 years later, to spend a few days with my friend from the campaign. We are going to do some volunteering on election day in a small attempt to help save democracy. The yard signs are out and people are feeling frantic here about the result.
I don’t know about you, but my brain is currently fried with how heavy the world’s politics feels at the moment, so when I sat down to write about the election, what came was more of a deranged love letter to this crazy country. You. are. welcome.
Dear America,
I fell in love with you long before we met.
I’d heard about your towering mountains, firefly deserts and palm tree coastlines and I was in awe. In England, I grew up with you on my screens, in my music and my imagination.
You gave us Ross and Rachel, Sandy and Danny, Dorothy and Toto, Carrie Bradshaw, Beyoncé. You invented chocolate chip cookies, lobster rolls, cheeseburgers and coca-cola for god’s sake. Not to mention the internet, the lightbulb, personal computers and iPhones. There’s no end to your talents.
You put a man on the moon, you created Disneyland, you basically are fucking Disneyland when you think about it. Much of the world as we know it, for better or worse, is all thanks to you. You insane land of dreams you.
America, you are always larger than life, showing everyone what was possible. I wish you could see how amazing you can be.
My first memory of you? Watching Meet Me in St Louis on repeat as a child. How desperately I wanted to be Judy Garland in one of those big white houses with the lawn down to the street and the handsome boy next door. When I discovered Gene Kelly in Singing in the Rain, there you were again, shaping the world of entertainment with talking pictures. I wanted nothing more than to walk your star-lined streets of Hollywood.
As a teenager, I studied your politics and history. This was before Lin-Manuel Miranda and Hamilton told your story to the world. It seems to me you are genius, America, look at how you won your independence against all the odds. For all your flaws, you showed the rest of us that, anything was possible.
I came to see you in person as soon as I could. When I was 21, I flew across the ocean to meet the America I longed to see. Your skyscrapers in New York and Chicago were so high they made my stomach lurch when I looked up. I visited your waterfalls, ate your pancakes, drank your coffee, campaigned for the re-election of your first Black president.
I went to Boston to see where all the tea was tossed into the sea. I stood outside the White House in Washington DC and couldn’t believe how much smaller it was in real life. I worked alongside your servicemen and women. I got to know your family who would do anything to help you, who give so much to your communities.
That trip changed my life. I never wanted to leave you. Ever. I came back as soon as I could and drove across the Golden Gate Bridge six times, just to take it all in. How I had missed you. But somewhere along the way, America, you lost sight of the dream you so generously shared with the world. You lost sight of you.
You are so brilliant. So why, lately, do you hate yourself so much? After all we’ve been through together, it hurts to see you like this. I’m watching you tear yourself apart, flirting with your ex, that toxic tyrant with the toupée. The woman-hating, reality-twisting criminal we thought we’d finally seen the back of.
Okay, things have been hard, and yes, the new option hasn’t given you fireworks and butterflies. But are you really considering going back there? To him? After everything?
Look, we’ve all been there. Tough times, let downs, you feel lost. You’re scared of the unknown, I get it, it’s terrifying. But isn’t taking the path less travelled what you do best, America? Isn’t that what you’re known for? Inspiring the world with your opportunities, your dreams, your progress?
We need you, now more than ever, to be strong. Remember who you are. Take a moment. Do some of that therapising you taught the rest of us to do. The world looks to you to lead, to be brave. Think about the future of your women, your children, people of colour, those struggling with mental health, those living on the financial edge. Imagine what going back to him would mean for them, for their rights, their safety, their health, their futures.
Listen to me America, as your bestie: don’t let the dream become a memory. Be the hope we can all still believe in. The world is watching you. I love you, always have, always will. Now get your shit together. For all of us.