Cleaning My Way To Sanity

Cleaning My Way To Sanity

I’m standing at the kitchen sink in my Swedish apartment. Washing dishes seems to be the only way to make sense of this morning’s news. Donald Trump has been elected President of the United States. Americans elected Donald Trump as President of the United States. Americans. America. And me, a resident of Sweden waiting for news that a permanent permit to live and work here will be approved, turns to cleaning. After spending too many hours reading Facebook posts, chatting with concerned friends and watching videos from the Portland, Oregon protest my son attended while armed guards pointed guns at the crowd, it’s a needed distraction. 5,000 miles away it feels there's very little I can do.

I guess I could join in with everyone else who seems to think pointing out all the problems our world now faces fall at the feet of The Donald and his right-wing group of supporters, but we already knew that going into this election. Who he is, what he believes in, how he’ll govern aren’t secrets.

So, “preparing for the end an era”, I strip my bed of its linens and wash them clean. Like the dishes, like the windows, like the wooden floors, I scrub and polish and dust and mop, trying to create order out of world chaos.

When I first traveled to Sweden, I remember how afraid I was of people finding out where I came from. Having never been outside of the States before, all I knew was that my country had much to be sorry for. Not wanting to be the stereotypical American who complained about lack of ice at restaurants or air conditioning in hotels, I would deferentially introduce myself to Swedes and admit that, yes, I was from America.

What I wasn’t prepared for was the reaction I’d always receive. “We LOVE America!” they’d say. My nationality granted me access and friendship that my fellow Swedish language classmates from countries like Lebanon, Syria, Afghanistan, Iraq, and Ethiopia didn’t automatically receive.

I was surprised every time this happened, hastening to ask, “But, do you know about America? Do you realize it’s not what you see in the movies or on reality TV???” Swedes were quick to assure me they didn’t consider those things to be a reflection on me, but yet, they were open and eager to be my friend and would still smile whenever talk of America came up as if my country was a positive place to live in.

It was something my conflicted heart would struggle over, especially as I’d read about the difficulties other immigrants were having acclimating to a new country, a new language and a new way of life. I felt my being an American gave me things here in Sweden I hadn’t yet earned.

At the same time, I also came to appreciate, at a soul-deep level, Swedes commitment to diversity, equality and human rights, in ways my own country, the “land of the free and home of the brave” seemed to have lost a long time ago.

While I knew Americans were great at rallying together during times of tragedy, with the Swedes, what I discovered was that they choose to extend solidarity towards others on an individual basis while also passionately defending the defenseless. I’ve never met a people with bigger hearts than those I’ve found in Sweden.

The difference between who Americans say they are and what they do was never more clear than when looking at the Swedes. They do – so much for so many – and yet say very, very little.

In fact, the running joke between my Swedish friends and myself was something to the effect that I, as a “loud American” could talk up and promote and point attention at all the brilliant and positive things Swedes had done and were doing. That was considered okay because, after all, “bragging” was what Americans did. But, it was quickly pointed out, Swedes would never take the same approach toward themselves or their work.

So, I would say for them the things they didn’t dare say about themselves and we’d both look into the mirror I’d hold up for them and smile at how great this country was and is.

Except, I couldn’t let go of the fact things were getting tense here. Things are tense here. The refugee crisis. The lack of employment. The failing school system. The neglect of the elderly. The absence of money and political cohesion. The Swedish system of saying very little became to me, a burying of heads in the sand. Extremist groups rose to power.

People didn’t take them seriously, or if they did, they’d fight back by speaking harshly in opposition to all hints of racism and yet … all eyes for the future seemed to be pointed toward America and the 2016 election.

Now that it’s over, I don’t know what to think.

I’m fiercely protective of this country. Maybe it’s because it’s so small. Maybe it’s because it’s so old and has survived things America in its infancy as a nation, hasn’t even begun to grapple with yet.

Maybe it’s because when life hit hard for me here and everything vanished around me, Swedes, one by one, rallied around me and provided support and care in ways I knew weren’t typically “Swedish”.

Or, maybe it’s because I see something here, something America says it believes in but has never actually embraced at a countrywide level like Sweden has. Equality is woven so completely into the Swedish DNA that thoughts of anyone being “better” than another is nationally frowned upon to such an extent they actually created unwritten “laws” about it.

Jantelagan, which came from Norway/Denmark, is an unofficial “Ten Commandments” that Swedes adopted as a social barometer of permitted behavior. And while recently, it’s been attacked as limiting and alienating to those who want more than a “lagom” life (another Swedish construct that says living with “not too little and not too much” is the right way to live), the idea of it, of “equality” and “enough” are things I, as an American who never managed to make it up the ladder to where the rest of the 1% hang out, finds very comforting.

It’s anti all things Kardashian and “supersized”, which suits me just fine.

But what’s not comforting, what’s upsetting in the extreme, is what I see happening here, now. On the 12th of November, the Nordic Resistance Movement will march on Stockholm. This group has just been given the global green light, along with other right-wing extremist parties in Europe, to continue their efforts to promote isolationism, protectionism and anti-immigration, in Sweden.

My stomach clenches as I wait and pray and prepare to fight back with the only tools I have. My heart, my head and my voice. I empty the mop bucket and fold the laundry.

With the Trump win, American has, in one fell swoop, ushered in an era that I think we need to start paying attention to here in Sweden as well as the rest of the world. We need to take it seriously, these political parties who seem so “extreme” to us, because the balance of power has shifted. Things have changed and they will continue to do so.

For better or worse, it’s up to us, up to me, to find a way to clean up the mess we created. I’m not sure how we’re going to do that but I know ignoring opposing voices and shutting down lines of communication between the SD and any other group those of us with more liberal leanings might find disagreeable will only serve to create the same current tensions in Sweden that we increasingly see in the U.S.

Look where that got us.