It’s a commonplace that going abroad makes you think more about your own culture, but I thought I had already had my fill of that before I even stepped foot in Spain. I had studied and lived in France, and I had taught English to people from around the world. In short, I thought I already knew what I thought.
And what I thought was: every country has things wrong with it, and America’s no different, and probably better than a lot of places. I thought that way coming here, and I still do. Instead of what I thought about America changing, it’s how I felt about it that changed.
Before, the U.S. had always seemed like a pretty good place, even if it did have some gun violence, missing healthcare, and inequality. But the more people asked me about it, the more I began seeing my own country from the objective view of someone who doesn’t have to live there. I began to see it from their perspective, even when they couldn’t see it from my perspective. And America began to seem like a distinctly unforgiving place, where economic priorities were more important than making sure people were taken care of. When I thought of it, I thought of the wild west, a place where people occasionally help others but mostly fend for themselves.
One time I was talking to my tailor, whose wife had just gotten a new kidney, and the conversation turned naturally to healthcare in America. He asked about what happened to people who didn’t have insurance because they were poor. “What, do you kick them out on the street like garbage?” Well, not exactly, there were some provisions for helping the destitute, but I hemmed and hawed. When someone puts it that way, you don’t want that phrase to be anywhere close to an accurate characterization of your people.
The new legislation passed yesterday doesn't make healthcare perfect, but it makes it a better, and the country I will be going back to doesn't seem quite as heartless a place. I will still have to hem and haw a little in the future when people ask, but less so. For that, I am thankful.