This winter, I felt paralyzed, not by cold, but by an inescapable sense of terror and grief. Wildfires devoured neighborhoods in my hometown of Los Angeles, displacing friends and family members. The Trump administration’s dismantling of DEI programs and its assault on Black America intensified. And as a Black queer woman, I watched the president strip away my rights, not through legislation, but by a barrage of executive orders targeting LGTBQ+ folks.
As a journalist, I couldn’t look away. But as a human, I needed a break.
So I left.
Inspired by revolutionary Black artists and activists who left the United States in search of rest and relief from anti-Blackness — think James Baldwin in Paris and Maya Angelou in Ghana — I headed to the United Kingdom and Europe.
Even before the election, Americans were stressed out about politics and the future of the nation. An October 2024 survey by the American Psychological Association found that 47% of Black, 47% of Latino/a/e, and 50% of folks who identify as LGBTQ said worries about their personal safety were a major stressor.
But most Black people haven’t had the opportunity to get a break from either political worries or racism in the United States. Data from Pew Research Center shows that only 49% of Black Americans have ever traveled outside the United States compared to 75% of their white peers.
Amanda Bates, founder and creative director of The Black Expat, a multimedia platform that supports Black and brown travelers, says for those willing and able to take the risk, crossing borders and being “open to the adventures that are out there” can be “life-changing” — particularly for mental health. It’s not because racism disappears, but because the context changes.
“From a mental wellness standpoint, really seeing how other people live and looking at new ways of living that maybe were not available,” in the United States, Bates said. “And that can even come down to culturally how people handle stress, and work-life balance, and what they eat, and do they walk everywhere.”
Embracing the moment
Being out of the United States reminded me that life is meant to be enjoyed, even — and maybe especially — in the face of violent oppression.
Step one: Deleting news updates from my phone’s home screen and accepting for the first time since November 5, 2024, that there is a difference between being informed and doom-scrolling. Instead, I embraced the present moment.
I watched boats sailing on the River Thames and took in the 360-degree view of London’s skyline while riding on the London Eye. In Paris, I headed to the Louvre to gaze at the mysterious smile of the Mona Lisa. In Rome, I learned to make pasta from scratch. Athens found me meditating on the beach, and in Istanbul, I devoured fresh baklava.
I began smiling more. Practicing my French with my Uber drivers, people-watching over lunch, and dancing in nightclubs with strangers who quickly became friends showed me that community can flourish wherever you’re willing to cultivate it.
I got inspired. Talking to other Black folks about the state of the world and their actions toward progress, and going to galleries to marvel at Black artists, including Lauren Halsey, Rotimi Fani-Kayode and George Lilanga, filled me with tremendous hope. I learned how Black folks throughout history and across cultures globally have fought for justice and won.
Continuing the fight for justice and equity
The truth? My trip didn’t end racism, misogyny or queerphobia in the United States, but it did give me a chance to rest, commune and have fun — and that changed my perspective and my resolve.
In the final days of my trip, news broke of anti-genocide protester and Palestinian activist Mahmoud Khalil’s arrest. I watched as elected officials failed to protect basic rights, like freedom of speech and freedom to peacefully assemble. But unlike before I left the United States, I no longer felt powerless. I felt renewed and determined. I’d learned that what I truly crave is not to escape the United States but to continue to help my home become a safer, more loving and more just place — where I and diverse communities can thrive.
As Bates told me, “If you are the type of individual, in general, to be focused on racial justice and equity issues, then I think you are going to carry those values with you wherever you go.”
Walking back into my one-bedroom apartment in Atlanta, I knew I was where I wanted to be. That week, I volunteered at a community garden. I slept a lot and spent time with friends. I continued a collaborative arts project centered around reproductive justice that I’d started last year. I read the news with more intention. I breathed through my anxiety and remembered that I — like all Black people here and abroad — have the opportunity to champion justice and equity, and to create a better world.
Nadira Jamerson is a journalist and creative writer from Pasadena, California. She has a B.A. in English from Howard University. She is the author of “Believe You,” a comic published by DC Comics about healthcare inequities in the United States, and she self-published “I Want to Love My Own Life,” a horror-fantasy novel that explores mental health and the fickle nature of wellness. Nadira is the recipient of the Ladies of Horror Fiction Award and the Horror Writers Association’s Diversity Grant for her contributions to the genre. Through poetry, short stories, comics and more, Nadira’s gruesome yet warm works primarily explore Black queer identity, family dynamics, mental health and, above all, hope.
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