This Monday, the flag outside the Memorial Hall was flying at half-mast again. The first time i saw it that way was on September 11th -- so my assumption this time was that there was some sort of major historical anniversary that was being commemorated and that i, with my limited knowledge of American history, knew nothing about. It was only yesterday, with the news of the Las Vegas mass shooting plastered all over the internet, that i understood. Ah, i thought. Another one.
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Before i came over to the US, a few of my friends in Singapore had expressed their concern about me “simply walking into”, not Mordor, but certainly, a country riven by racism, partisan politics, anti-immigrant sentiment, and gun violence -- and at the worst possible time, just a few months into a presidential term that, from our faraway perspective at least, looked like a cross between a late-night comedy show and a sci-fi horror flick. One friend half-jokingly advised me to buy a bullet-proof vest. Another quietly took me aside one day and warned me to ‘Be careful.’
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‘Of what?’
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‘Terrorism,’ he said. He is a man of few words.
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I must say that i’m thankful that none of their dark warnings have come true -- so far. i realise that saying this might be seen as tempting fate. But all i’m saying is that nothing bad has happened so far. i learned, long ago, that ‘so far’ is all we can ever say of life: things can change in a minute, a second -- and as long as we recognize that, there is no harm in acknowledging and naming the things we are thankful for, in the ‘so far’s that have been given us. So yes, so far, i’ve been OK -- and for this, i’m profoundly grateful.
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But i’ve also been vexed and deeply frustrated by the America that i see. The America that, truth be told, i have seen since my first extended visit here in 2013. i came away from those two months in Berkeley, California, appalled at the racism that seemed to me so endemic in this country’s institutions and way of thinking, unable to understand the polarization of views and refusal to listen to perspectives other than one’s own that i’d met with, even in a university that prided itself on being ‘liberal’ (i soon learnt that the definition of ‘liberal’ in America was not the same as the definition of ‘liberal’ as i understood it). The next year, at a residency in Vermont, i saw hints of more of the same. When Trump won the elections last year, i was, to be honest, not very surprised. i know that this is a terrible thing to say -- but it’s true.
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The sad, tragic thing about all this is -- things could be so different. This country has so much potential to be so different -- so much talent, such a wealth of resources, nay, an embarrassment of resources. When i head out of the city into the surrounding countryside, what never fails to boggle my mind is the sheer amount of land this country is blessed with. Coming from an island 17 by 30 miles in size, i can’t help but think, Surely. There’s enough for everyone here, enough to go round ten times over, and more. So much energy and will, so much optimism and idealism ... And yet. What is it that’s stopping people from changing things? Ideology? Sheer stubbornness? The dark sides of idealism and determination?
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i don’t know. All i know is that, even as a foreigner here, i feel exhausted by all of this. Exhausted by the vehemence of the discourse, the intransigence of the warring factions. Exhausted by all that disappointment and anger and outrage. i don’t read the local news much anymore -- because so often, it’s just more of the same. i long for a new way to see things, a third way, something that takes the middle road. But as a foreigner, it is not for me to talk about what i want for this country. So i watch, and wait. For what, i don’t know. i don’t think that positive change will come easy, if at all.
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