American Myth
I tend to have one key observation that sticks with me after my more or less annual visits to the U.S. In 2024, it was this: compared to other places, while day to day life is more convenient in the States, achieving overall quality of life is harder - particularly in recent years.
I can’t speak for every part of the nation, but in the places I frequent, you can hop in your car and quickly get to a huge store - one that’s open all hours and even on holidays - selling pretty much everything you need (and even more things you don’t). If that’s too time consuming, you can order whatever you want online, have it arrive at your doorstep hours later, and easily return it if you decide it’s not for you. You can use a pretty efficient national postal system, or any number of other reliable services, to send things through the mail and be reasonably confident they will arrive at their destination. You have unlimited data on your phone, and access to high speed wifi in many places. Flawed as the justice system is, it functions (more or less) and provides recourse if not always remedy.
This is largely not the case here in South Africa, and (while things may have changed) wasn’t when I lived in Mexico, or Kenya, much less DRCongo or Togo. Day to day life is, on the whole, less convenient, particularly from a consumerist and efficiency point of view. But living well, which for me means having access to fresh, affordable food, quality healthcare, a more reasonable cultural approach to work (and therefore lower stress), - these are all things I (from my place of considerable privilege) find in abundance outside the U.S. And, while consumer goods might be cheaper in the States, cost of living generally is much higher than in other places, particularly as wages fail to keep up with the cost of rent and groceries.
I also find it easier to find a sense of community outside the U.S. As we disappear further and further into our phones, loneliness is a global issue, but it feels particularly acute in the States. This imbalance between ease of mass overconsumption and quality of life feels like confusing, mixed messaging: the nationally cherished fiction of America as the best place to be, a consumerist culture telling Americans they have everything at their fingertips, while over a third of Americans worry they won’t be able to pay their bills, and the accompanying, overwhelming sense of fear and isolation.
I’ve been sitting on this thought since July, when I was last in the States, because I haven’t really known what to do with it, how to weave it into some larger narrative or lesson. Today, though, nine days into the 2025, the U.S. news struck a different chord with me. I had this sense of chickens coming home to roost.
America (and, yes, the world) is on fire and under water, literally and metaphorically As I write this, California’s sudden and historically destructive wildfires are raging, spurred by the Santa Ana winds. On the other side of the country, people continue to dig out from a massive snowstorm that killed and injured many. Two weeks away from Trump becoming president, he’s threatening to annex Greenland, Canada and the Panama Canal. Mark Zuckerberg seems to be cleaving to his breast by deciding to crowd source fact checking on Meta, a chilling homage to Elon Musk’s hypocritical freedom of speech at all costs approach. Jimmy Carter’s funeral is today, and thinking of how his brand of decency wouldn’t last a minute in today’s American politics adds to the sense of loss.
As Trump takes us back into the era of America First, the story we’ve long been sold - of America as the land of bootstraps possibility, prosperity and growth - feels even more like a myth. We’re moving from globalism to continentalism just as the tsunami of late stage capitalism crests over us. At this rate, what will be left to protect?