Why America is the worst (an obvious list)

Warning: This is one of those American expat articles complaining about America after living only a short time outside the States. Additionally, this article will follow a listicle format because I’m too lazy to develop transitions. Enjoy!

1: Toxic Food. I recently went back to America and literally everyone I know has developed either gluten intolerance, lactose intolerance, and/or some type of gastrointestinal issue. Why? The answer is simple: moneyyyy. America is the land of money, where people profit off the ailments of others. How do you create ailments? By increasing the toxicity of the food. American food is full of unnecessary ingredients and pesticides that are banned in other countries. Why? One, these extra ingredients make it easier to produce food, which results in more production, which results in more money. Two, letting your people get sick means more healthcare. And when healthcare isn’t free… Boom! More money. In contrast, countries with public healthcare systems have a vested interest in keeping their people healthy, which means better consumer and food regulations. Which leads me to my next point. (Wait, was that a transition?)

2: Healthcare not for all. There are pros and cons to the public healthcare systems seen in other parts of the world. But there are significantly more cons to a private healthcare system like the one in America, with the most obvious being not everyone can afford healthcare. Do I sometimes have to wait a little longer for a doctor in Germany? Yes. But will I go into bankruptcy if I break my leg? No. I’ll take longer lines over financial ruin any day. The majority of Western countries see healthcare as a basic human right. America views healthcare as a basic money-making machine. Speaking of rights… (Was that another transition?)

3: Constant human rights violations. Land of the free? Psych! America is an ironic model of freedom. Freedom is reserved for those who are white, male, and cis gender (bonus points for Evangelical Christians!). Everyone else is subhuman. Since its founding, the American government has actively oppressed those of color, women, and the LGBTQI+ community through violence, legislation, and social coercion. 

4. Guns and increasing violence. No explanation needed on this one. But personally, I do feel much safer living in Germany than I ever did in the US. Crime rates are low. Violence is rare. No worries about getting shot up in a grocery store or raped on the street. How refreshing!

5: An unapologetic government. The American government doesn’t actually listen to the people, and creates strategies to repress majority opinions. 59% of Americans are pro-choice. Majority of Americans want some type of federal gun legislation (whether it be universal background checks or bans on assault rifles). Yet, the government actively goes against the majority through gerrymandering and other political manipulation. 

6: Soul-crushing work. America’s relationship with work is quite sad. 2 weeks of vacation? Tragic. In America, you are bred to work, and work, and work, and work. There is no such thing as work-life balance when work IS life. There are no days off when there is money to be made, and your boss is a corporate prick. And if you don’t work, you die… Socially speaking. Because it is socially unacceptable to not work in America. 

7: All dreams, no means. The perception that you can become rich in America is a bit delusional. Sure, it could happen. But largely, it won’t. For the majority, the American Dream is a sham. The average American cannot afford an unexpected $400 bill let alone a mortgage. The idea of making it big has its appeal and the reason, I suppose, many people think America is “great”. But in reality only a small percentage of people actually become wealthy. Why do you think it is called the One Percent?

8: Declining education system. Debt crushing student loans, overburdened teachers, not to mention the likelihood of getting shot while attending class goes up every single year.

9: Overly excited Evangelical Christians. What happened to personal spiritual practices? I am uninterested in your arousal for God. Keep your relationship (and bigotry) to yourself, please.

10: Everyone hates you. And if they seem to like you, they’re just pretending to because they don’t want you to blow them up and/or they want your money. 

Honestly, I’m not sure what America has going for it these days (except for the largest military spend in the world). Therefore, it’s quite possible I may never return. Better start seriously learning that Deutsch. Tschüss Amerika! 

On writing.

Writing is a lost medium that has always been lost on me. Until now.

In the past, I have found writing anything (essays, research papers, journal entries, etc.) extremely stressful. So stressful that I would bite my arm throughout the process (I may have some obsessive tendencies). The literary expectations (or rather limitations) of the reviewer (including myself) stifled me. Having to abide by some rule book hindered my expression. It forced me into a box, and I am claustrophobic!

Well, I don’t follow the rules anymore. I follow my voice. I am grammatically incorrect. I write like I talk. I use the past perfect tense often. I come to conclusions too quickly. I convolute ideas. And this has been the most freeing form of expression. After all, rules are meant to be broken. (Unless you live in Germany, where you will be scolded publicly or receive a sternly, grammatically-correct written letter.)

The Game

Those celebrating the overturning of women’s rights (and soon gay rights) are brainwashed.
This is a game to them.
God’s game, and they are the chosen.
That’s why they can look at the rest of us with such disdain.
Why they can justify pro life but have no regard for yours.
You are not “pure”.
Your soul is doomed to hell.
Your rights don’t matter.
Religion is a dangerous game.
One of which there is a “truth”.
It’s black and white.
There is no room for you and me.

To inject or not inject?

I recently got lip injections. Why am I telling you this? One, I like to think that I am an honest person. Two, I think the difference in my upper lip volume is noticeable enough that I may as well be upfront about it.

While injectables are basically mainstream, I do feel there is still a certain stigma that surrounds it. People judge you for wasting your money and/or for not being your natural self, which is quite comical considering women (and men) are frequently judged for aging and/or not being attractive enough naturally (there is no winning). I think most people would categorize me as “attractive”. And I guess I will claim this adjective after years of thinking of myself as “ugly”. So it seems reasonable that friends and family would question my decision to shoot up my lips. And I don’t blame them (how futile of me!). Well, the answer is why not? While I may not need injections, I want injections. I may naturally occur attractive (I feel uncomfortable typing this so I guess I don’t truly claim this adjective), but I can always be more attractive. And who doesn’t want more??

Truth be told, this isn’t the first time I have had lip injections. The first time and last time (until recently) was in 2018. While my lips did look plumper, there wasn’t much of a structural difference. My upper lip still receded into oblivion whenever I opened my mouth. So thereafter, I decided to direct my coins towards injecting my frown lines with Botox. That was until the aesthetic medical industry evolved and developed the Russian lips technique (should we change that name?). This newish technique (which I don’t think is actually new as it looks to me like celebrities have been receiving this treatment for years) isn’t so focused on increasing the volume of your lips but rather the height of them, which is exactly what my upper lip has needed all along. So I got the lip injections. And while they don’t necessarily look “natural”, they are now visible. And visibly unnatural is, well, more attractive (according to my Instagram feed).

Side note: this is my satirical opinion. Injectables don’t necessarily make you more attractive, especially if they are done incorrectly or if you have a naturally ugly personality. To get injectables is a very personal decision and should be done because YOU WANT TO and for no other reason. Full stop.

Extra side note: injectables are relatively attainable in Europe compared to the US. In Germany, they are 40-50% cheaper. So yes, as long as I am in Germany I will get more injectables (but unclear if I’ll inject my lips again as it is significantly more painful than Botox). If I move back to the US, I will need to acquire some wealth because it is truly my intention to never grow up.

Another side note: I read somewhere that women don’t want flowers. They want injections. And I think this is true, for me at least. They both have expiration dates, so you are “wasting” your money either way. While one is noticeably more expensive than the other, it is more utilitarian than a dying vase of flowers. And by utilitarian I mean it makes looking in the mirror every single day a little bit better.

But I don't want to be a girl...

When I was young, I hated that I was a girl. Not in the gender-identity way; I am definitely cis female. But more so in regards to gender-power dynamics. I have always been acutely aware of my place in the world, and my wish to not be a girl started at the early age of 4.

The community that surrounded me at this time was certainly atypical, but it was and is reflective of larger society. Every week, 3 times a week, my family and I would dress up for church. I hated going to church as it meant pantyhose, frilly dresses, and slippery shoes. What's more, wearing dresses meant I couldn’t roll around on the church floor with the little boys and their crotch-covering pants. The next time I wished away my girlness was around the age of 7. It was then that I started to process the words being fed to me: “The head of a woman is Man.” All the leadership roles in church were filled by men. It made me uncomfortable that only those of the male sex could give spiritual lectures. As someone sitting in the audience, I felt less than like I would never amount to anything special. It was at this age that I internalized the ambient misogyny and began to hate myself, for being a girl. 

After my brother was born, it was even clearer to me that I was a second class citizen. My father spent way more time with him than with my sister or me. My father would also get very upset when we would costume my brother in dresses or let him play with our Barbies. “We wear dresses and play with Barbies… What’s so bad about that?” He has since apologized, and I have forgiven him. But the choice to put son over daughter will forever be a thorn in our relationship, and my acceptance of girlhood. 

At 14 I got my period, and I cried. A lot. Getting my period solidified my lot in life as a woman. How dreadful to live with this inconvenience every month for half of my existence. (I still find my period wretched, especially as someone who never wants children. I reject the very purpose of having a period and would prefer to surgically remove my uterus.) It was also around this time that my boobs came in. Although they never truly developed…. To hide my “mosquito bites”, as they were tauntingly called, I would wear extra large T-shirts and walk around mimicking the Hunchback of Notre Dame. (I blame puberty for my bad posture.)

The rest of puberty / high school was tragic and I wouldn’t let myself date until I was 17 (for reasons I haven’t fully explored but probably have something to do with power imbalance and my lack of body acceptance). In college, I was too preoccupied with fitting in that I didn’t spend much time dissecting gender inequities, rather focusing on the financial inequities between my friends and me. The next time I distinctly remember not wanting to be a girl (or rather a woman) was at 25. I guess at some point in college I fell for Neoliberalism and thought if I just worked hard then I would be treated and compensated accordingly. It only takes one job at a douchebag tech startup to ruin any perception of fairness. It was at this job that I finally swallowed the hard pill that I, as a woman, would have it much, much harder in life. 

And now here we are 6 years later, and the US government has legally confirmed all of my concerns. I am of the second sex.

NYC: The Best City in the World?

I recently traveled back to NYC for the first time since moving abroad. (Where I live now is irrelevant as this is not another essay about the nuances of being an American expat a.k.a. immigrant. Or is it?) I must admit I was quite nervous going back to NYC because I was worried that I would either hate it and never want to move back, or love it and be sad I don’t live there anymore. In the end, the feelings were mixed (which is also irrelevant because I am still processing said feelings). But I do have some key takeaways about what makes NYC one of the best cities in the world. Spoiler alert: these are mostly food related.

Bagels. It is true that nothing beats a NYC bagel. Supposedly, it is New York’s tap water that is key to making the bagels taste so good. But there are quite a few other reasons for NYC’s bagel superiority: the toppings. It seems like every bagel shop has endless deli combinations to adorn your chosen hand rolled bagel. Yes, there are the classic BEC and lox with schmear, but there is also sausage, turkey sausage, turkey cold cuts, canadian bacon, chorizo, chicken cutlets, pastrami, steak, white fish, egg whites, etc. Mix and match any of these with your favorite specialty cream cheese and/or vegetables… The combinations are endless. 

Iced Coffee. Nowhere does an iced coffee like a New York City deli. Yes, the coffee is shitty. But, water it down with a ton of ice and a splash of milk in the biggest plastic cup available, and voilà: the best iced coffee. It is also important to note that the plastic cup and corresponding plastic straw are vital to the iced coffee experience. Is it the most environmentally conscious thing to do? No. But paper cups and straws cannot handle the amount of ice required to make a good iced coffee. So, I will choose the plastic cup/straw and not buy plastic fast fashion. We do what we can. 

Pizza. Like the bagels, it is the tap water that perfects the New York slice. But that is not why NYC pizza is better, for me at least. What makes a NYC pizza objectively better is the size. One slice of pizza is bigger than an entire Neapolitan pizza. I honestly feel like I am getting ripped off when I order a pizza at an Italian restaurant anywhere else in the world. When I want pizza, I want to pig out on pizza. I want to be so bloated that I have to unbutton my pants. I want to wake up to left over pizza so I can eat it for breakfast. And NYC pizza fulfills these requirements. Other pizza does not. (Well, maybe Chicago-style pizza does, but I don’t like thick crust.)

Delusion. There is no other place in the world that can match the per capita delusion of NYC. (Perhaps LA is a good contender, but I have been avoiding LA my entire life. So I cannot compare.) It is clear to me now after having quite a bit of physical and mental distance that the average New Yorker is delusional about living in NYC. New Yorkers (and those drudging their way to eventually call themselves “New Yorkers”) genuinely think that living in NYC makes them superior to all other beings. Like they have accomplished something because they are willing to tolerate nonstop stimuli and the daily inconveniences of New York life. How do you sleep with constant noise outside your window? I’ll sleep when I’m dead. The subway is 25 minutes delayed… How will you get to work? I’ll take a $50 Uber.  How do you deal with everyone being in a bad mood all of the time? That’s just how New Yorkers are. $200 for dinner??? That’s normal. 

People living in NYC wear their daily survival like a badge of honor when in reality it’s just Stockholm Syndrome (which should be renamed to New York City Syndrome). I must confess that towards the end of my trip I was seriously getting sucked back into the delusion… Daydreaming about making six figures again so that I could spend more money on subpar dinners with rude waiters and the $50 Uber ride home. But then I took a $90 Uber to JFK, ate shitty airport pizza, and sat on the floor of the overcrowded, outdated terminal. And I realized… I never felt happier to leave NYC, “the best city in the world”.