Maybe I Should Move to Ireland

Original Substack newsletter here from November 13th, 2024

The never-ending personal debate on what to do in response to the state of our country and the world.

What I’m Listening to rn: The Smiths Radio (specifically Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now); Tyler the Creator’s new Album CHROMAKOPIA; The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We by Mitski

What I’m Reading rn: A Collective Bargain: Unions, Organizing, and the Fight for Democracy by Jane McAlevey. Also In a Different Key by John Donvan & Caren Zucker (the history of Autism in the US) and We Have Always Been Here by Sumra Habib (A queer muslim memoir)

What I’m Watching rn: Abbott Elementary. Perfect easy, funny, 20 minute long episode show.

Products to Share: REI is having a sale- here are the products I’d recommend getting:

• 20 degree Big Agnes Torchlight Sleeping Bag (I actually have the Anthracite 20 degree bag from Big Agnes, so I can’t say for sure if the Torchlight is better. It’s just on sale, so I figured I’d give you all the option? I really like Big Agnes, so make whatever decision you need to!)
• Big Agnes Blacktail Hotel 2 Bikepack Tent. It’s a very large tent (2 person with vestibule) and great quality. Ofc you can get a smaller tent if you prefer, this is just a great option if you like your space/will be sharing with someone else.
• Active Pursuits Ribbed Bra Top – Women’s. This item it to be discontinued, and I have two pairs and love them!! They are the perfect bra tank top combo.

Since the election, I’ve been processing my emotions with the reality that the worst is here and to stay.

On one hand, I feel relief because I no longer have to lie to myself that things could get better. I don’t have to pretend that the Democrats are going to make big strides to help women, transgender people, students with overwhelming debt and the planet. I no longer have to pretend that fascism isn’t here to stay. I no longer have to pretend that the Democrats are going to save our country. I feel relief because I have certainty about the future; I can make decisions based off of the devil being here, ready to ruin everything there is be destroyed.

But now I have to make those hard decisions, and I am processing what to do now knowing that I might be leaving my country for the short foreseeable future. It is a life goal of mine to live abroad for at least one year before I die. I have never lived abroad- only traveled abroad- because uprooting your life and planting it elsewhere is a daunting task. I am telling myself that maybe now the universe is presenting me with the opportunity to finally go, rather than staying back. The universe is telling me that now is the time to check the goal of living abroad off my bucket list.

I just had the most beautiful weekend in Richmond with my bicycle community during their annual Burning Van festivities. About two hundred of us racing through the Richmond streets in clown costumes and blasting music. Crazy lights, laughs and nonsensical conversations. Games, drinks, unlimited rambunctiousness while moving on two wheels. We quite literally burnt a van effigy in the middle of a field and biked circles around it for over an hour. We played bike polo and capture the flag on our bikes as well. We ran around a playground. There was a DJ on the back of a bike. We had megaphones and carnival games. It was crazy, and it was magical. The communion of gay people and straight people, trans and cisgender, the freaks and the normies, the tattooed and the pierced, the genderbenders, varying races, ability levels and skills in one place supporting one another, having a wildly fun time. Community is when you all look after each other when someone gets injured, a bit too drunk, is feeling anxious or lost in the space. Community is when everyone shares responsibility. Community is a wide-reaching network of love.

Community is a beautiful thing, and I have it here in Baltimore.

I didn’t know what community was until I found it in Baltimore. Community is defined as “a feeling of fellowship with others, as a result of sharing common attitudes, interests, and goals. A group of people living in the same place or having a particular characteristic in common.” I thought I had experienced community before when I played team sports in high school- wasn’t my soccer team a community? What about the other artists I knew in college, wasn’t that community? What about the crew team? My residence hall? These were people I had things in common with and lived near. I thought that was what community was.

But in Baltimore I found true community. The bicycle community which has the biggest range in income, race, age, ability level, job title and skills compared to any other willfully assembled group I’ve ever known. The gay community here which runs strong with transgender support, bisexual and polyamorous people, Butch Garden day parties and leather daddies around. The art community which is its own mix of counterculture creators, photography businesses owners, muralists, musicians and knitters. There is a great mix of immigrants, transplants, and people who have lived here their entire lives. There is a little bit of everyone here in Baltimore.

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This weekend reminded me why I fell in love with biking; it’s because of the people. It has always been the people. The people I’ve met couchsurfing across thirteen countries. The people I first met when I purchased my first bicycle in Atlanta. The people who read these newsletters and follow my Instagram. The people here in Baltimore. I love Baltimore, I love cyclists, I am so fortunate and giddy to have found something that I so passionately affectionate of.

And now I’m posed with the question of leaving the country. After having such a beautiful community experience this weekend, I look at my girlfriend’s record collection and I ask myself, “if we do move abroad to Ireland, will she take all of this with her and ship it overseas?” “Which countries are the easiest to import cats and pets to?” I asked my friends partner how he feels about moving abroad in the next year or two, looking for insight as to how another couple is processing this fate. He tells me that he grew up moving every three years because his parents worked for the government. He’s lived in South America, Asia, Europe, and North America, and for him, he’s become quite accustomed to leaving. He said something along the lines of “you appreciate what you have and move on. You can always go back and visit”.” I then think back to a conversation I had with a childhood best friend and how she would move to Toronto given the election, but might stay here in Baltimore because of her boyfriend’s job. I think of other friends who want to stay and fight the good fight because they thrive off of the chaos and want to be in the center of the pushback. I think of my friends who sobbed for hours the day after the election. I think of my friends who fear they might have to ration their hormones as a result of Trump’s transphobia and goal to rid hormone therapy from Medicaid. I read news headlines every day that say “Get ready for 4 years of disastrous public health” or “Women fear Republicans will move to overturn no-fault divorce”. As we drive to Trader Joe’s, I think about how much my girlfriend would sell her car for, if she would sell her car on Facebook or through Carvana, and how we would live life in the Ireland car free.

I was recently hired to work at a bike shop, having negotiated a $20/hr wage from the $19/hr offered. I am both excited and sad to be working this job. Happy because I’ve been looking for a new job for two months with no luck, and now that I have one, the feeling of relief washing over me. Yet I feel sad, because I am once again participating in the rat race and wage slavery, knowing that my valuable time- time that could be spent working on personal projects or relaxing- is only valued at $20/hr. I am excited for this job because I will become more of an expert in the biking world, will be surrounded with fantastic coworkers, and will have my foot more in the door as I build my career around cycling. I try to focus on the positive.

I was also invited to the training program for Trek Travel to be a bicycle tour guide. And I have a follow-up interview with Backroads to be a guide as well. And as I think about potentially moving abroad, I think about all of the jobs that I could want and how I would finance my life. Do I balance guiding with bike shop work? Do I move abroad but guide in the US, visiting my friends after each trip ends? Maybe I work on my YouTube in my spare time and finally earn money from sharing my adventures with others. If some of my friends move to Toronto, Montreal, Valencia, Korea or South America, I want to be able to visit them on my own accord. So I think about the ways of making American money while living abroad. I think about how to finance my life in a way that grants me as much freedom as I can hope for. I think about trading in my iPhone to get the new model because prices might go up $300 due to tariffs. Every thought I have is in response to Trump’s election. All of my thoughts about the future are implications of his impending reign of terror.

I picked up a book for my girlfriend’s bookshelf today called We Have Always Been Here which is queer muslim memoir of a woman from Pakistan. I am reminded of how I too would like to write my own memoir. Of my unique upbringing between divorced homes. Of my bicycle travels. Of coming to terms with my queerness. Of living through Covid, Trump’s legacies and late stage capitalism. Of being a young woman (“I’m just a girl”) navigating what feels like a psychotic and dying world. I reminded, as I page through this book, that I am not the only person who has lived in absolute chaos in this world. There are so many people with brilliant minds and compassionate hearts who are traversing trauma left and right, forward and behind. I know that I am not alone in working through turmoil and pain. I just hope that I can somehow make it through positively and in one piece, like many of these other authors have.

And I think about the future. I look at the map that is hanging on my wall in front of the laptop that I am typing on, and I think about if it is worth the cost shipping overseas to Ireland. I think about drawing more lines on that map of places that I will have bicycle toured around and think about how much time and how many years it’ll take to fill up this map with those black sharpie lines. I think about all the various jobs and ways I could finance my travels to see the world and live in the state of freedom, because as one of my friends mentioned, “cyclists want freedom in a different way”. We want freedom in the way to wear clown costumes and blast music when cycling in the roads and not feel threatened to die. We want freedom in the way of transgender people and cisgender people partying together in the middle of a field in a state of love and support. We want freedom to dye our hair crazy colors, tattoo ignorant designs on ourselves, grow our hair so long it touches the ground, and be able to build crazy bicycle contraptions in our free time without repercussion. We want freedom to bike acros countries and to live car-free wherever we choose. We want freedom in a different way. And I want freedom too.

Soon I will no longer be living off of my savings and will be working (in the official sense, not the unpaid start-up sense that I’ve been doing the last few months) at least 30 hours a week. It feels better knowing that I will have a transferable job that may let me progress in my career and work at different bike shops in different countries. But, I have to give up my free time and accept the fact that my work is not deemed that important and therefore is not paid very well. My active consent towards wage slavery doesn’t inherently feel good. It only feels different. Hopefully it opens doors to a great life down the road.