Maybe it is hugs and kisses that make better worlds. By making people who are gentle and strong enough to stand right next to one another, to be close, even in all life’s fragility, fear, and despair. Maybe we Americans — just like the Romans — are the ones who never understood enough about life to …
Your piece nails the reason why I lost five years of my life to major depressive disorder upon immigrating to the US, why I’m constantly at loggerheads with the monsterhood that passes for culture stateside and why, ultimately, I’m happier in Europe, surrounded by the culture and values that grew and made me, umair haque.
American greed and the cult of self are alienating to anyone who wasn’t born in them and no one in their right mind would co-opt them when they already know there’s another gentler way to live.
This, in short, is why immigration is the organ transplant that didn’t take. Although I’m now a US citizen, it doesn’t mean I no longer have a duty of care toward others or should stop treating fellow humans as equals. It just means that, perhaps, America isn’t the best place for me.