Wednesday, January 4, 2017


At work, I was reviewing my profile on the system with my supervisor as the information had been input by the H.R. department back during my application process. They're very thorough. They assessed me, interviewed me, ran background checks, ran drug tests. I passed everything seeing as I got the job, but as I was scanning my profile, I realized there was a few discrepancies. Maybe they'd been placed there simply because they were the default--it listed me as a natural born citizen and as white.

Due either to obsessive tendencies to be accurate, or maybe because I never gave it a second thought, I went in to correct them: naturalized citizen, Hispanic.

I regretted it immediately.

Not that there's any way to hide that from people who'd really care, but I got this uneasy feeling in my stomach that with the current and future political climate, maybe I shouldn't go around declaring in yet another concrete way that I wasn't born in his country, that I'm not part of the majority.

The day after the election, the immigration website for Canada crashed due to over saturation. People always joke, "if so and so wins I'm moving to [blank]!" around election years. But it felt so much more real now. Maybe because I'm an adult and hopefully one day an independent and it gets a little harder each year to stick my head under the sand and pretend the worst will happen without involving me.

But I could never get on board with the idea of snagging a plane ticket and getting the fuck out of this country. Not just because I neither have the money or resources. But because it felt wrong. I chose this country. I wasn't born in it. I already moved once and I came here and I started to build my life here. I loved aspects of it. When it got rough around the edges, shouldn't I stay and deal with it? It's my home. I don't want to pick another one again. Once was enough and it was all I wanted.

It's like the seeds of patriotism starting to sprout. I feel so committed to this country, I forget immediately it's a piece of land with hundreds of people who don't know me, don't care about me, and might actively hate the idea of me if given enough (possibly asinine) reason. It never owed me anything, and I too never owed it anything.

I have no idea why I ever thought otherwise.

But I'm not wholly pessimistic  (all doom-and-gloom) as of yet.

Mostly I'm sticking my head under the sand.

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