In June, as I watched news coverage of Donald Trump’s birthday parade from my home in Northern Virginia, I thought I couldn’t wait to escape the MAGA madness and move to Stirling. Now, I wish I were closer.
Fairfax County, in the U.S. state of Virginia, is a suburb only 32.3 kilometres away from the nation’s capital. I grew up with just enough distance from the politicians on Capitol Hill to sometimes forget they were there, but still close enough to join in on the history-making when I wanted.
Because of its proximity to D.C., Northern Virginia has a particularly high population of government workers and contractors. My friends and I grew up talking politics at the dinner table and debating policy decisions at recess.
Not only did we understand and accept our civic responsibilities as citizens of a democratic republic, we loved fulfilling them… until we didn’t.
Smothered in politics
Since Trump’s inauguration on January 20, American politics became exhausting; it was everywhere and inescapable. I counted down the days until my student visa kicked in and I could finally get a break from it all.
I was out of the states for mere hours before I realised distance from American politics wasn’t as comforting as I had hoped. In fact, distance made everything feel much worse.
Conservative activist Charlie Kirk was shot and killed on the day I departed for uni. I learned the news during my layover at Heathrow Airport.
At first, I was shocked. Then I was afraid: surely, I thought, this would be the catalyst for America’s second civil war, and while I was stuck all the way over here, my family and friends were still in the middle of it all.
The states were coming undone, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Too far for comfort
Most recently, when one of Virginia’s Democratic Senators, Tim Kaine, crossed the aisle to vote against his party on a pivotal issue, I set out to express my displeasure to my representative.
The gold standard would have been to drive straight to Capitol Hill and communicate my disappointment in person. I might even join a protest on my way out.
Considering the Atlantic Ocean stands in my way, however, ‘plan A’ was out of the question.
The next best option was to phone, so I could say what I needed to, engage in a dialogue with the staffer on the other end of the line and be sure my message arrived in time for the Senator’s next vote, but my new British number can’t call internationally.
‘Plan B’ was off the table.
I settled for a written comment through Senator Kaine’s “share your opinion” form. I felt gratified when I clicked the ‘submit’ button…for about half a second. Then I read the thank you message that instructs constituents to call if their concern is time-sensitive.
My matter was urgent, but I couldn’t call.
Shout, don’t speak
Engaging with my government even when I’m not within its borders has proven not to be easy, but it is most definitely worth it.
With some forethought and planning, I can send mail-in ballots from all the way over here; I can do my part to keep my representatives in check; I can continue to use my voice—I may need to shout instead of speak, but I can still stand up when it matters.
Featured Image Credit: Delaney Brooks
