I came to Mexico to die.
I was broken and in 2016 I broke up with America. I felt strangely orphaned in my 40s after the recent deaths of my parents. The well of romantic prospects dried up and I wasn’t willing to swipe right to find a new partner. I built a successful, political communications consultancy advising education and health care organizations about media and public policy, but the work was unfulfilling.
My friendships felt performative. We met for “Game Night,” to see the latest superhero blockbuster, or to have cocktails in the hottest, new restaurants. But once the photos were snapped and posted to social media, there was no substance, depth or meaning.
Most importantly, I lost faith in my country.
As a black woman, I have always known the truth about America. The United States is a country that has aspired, especially after World War II, to be a beacon of democracy throughout the world. However, its “freedom” was built on the whip lashes on the backs of my ancestors, the tears of First Nation tribes, the internment of Japanese Americans, and the subjugation of LGBTQ people.
Nevertheless, I always believed the arc of social justice leaned upward.
I believed that if I did my part – graduate from college, speak “proper” English, demonstrated in my dress and comportment that I was not a threat, that I was “just like” white people – white people would do theirs. Mainly, I hoped white people would “allow” blacks to enjoy the same fruits of freedom or at least leave us alone.
White Faust never honored his end of the bargain. Many white people doubled-down on racism, bigotry, and cowardice during the summer of 2016 in the wake of the numerous deaths of unarmed black men at the hands of white police officers.
The white people in question were not the Confederate-flag-waving, functionally illiterate racists lampooned in popular culture. The white people who broke my heart were the “good white people” – the ones with whom I rode the bus to integrated schools, invited to my home for dinner, and worked alongside toward shared ideals. The roots of hatred, greed, willful ignorance, and homophobia blossomed in the election of Donald Trump as President. But I was living in Mexico by then.
Life allowed me to rest, but not to die.