Opinion | Still thinking about moving abroad after the election? Advice from a Minnesotan in Europe.

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“Trump is a nightmare — let’s move abroad!”

There’s an old saying: “Wherever you go, there you are.”

To my fellow U.S. citizens, particularly those who have the privilege of choice and are contemplating emigration since November’s election results: Welcome to possibly the greatest adventure of your life. It’s going to be incredible. It’s also going to be tough.

I’m writing this not to discourage you from leaving, but to prepare you. Before you rush to emigrate postelection, here are the realities you should consider but probably haven’t thought about.

Shortly after the 2024 election, Ollolai, an Italian village in Sardinia, began promoting house sales — for as little as €1 — specifically targeting disgruntled liberals seeking a fresh start. Google searches for “leaving the country” and “how to move to ...” spiked, too, while immigration lawyers have also reported increased requests for relocation help.

Reality had other plans.

No matter how well I spoke Dutch or integrated into society, I would always be “the American” — the reluctant spokesperson for everything the U.S. administration was doing at the time. In the early years, it was WMDs and Guantanamo. Now it’s mass shootings, health care and “How could you elect a felon?”

Before moving, I’d begun my own political transformation. I longed to understand the world beyond how I was raised. Instead of enlightenment, I was confronted by international perceptions of me. People scrutinized my accent, my Levi’s jeans, my longing for air conditioning and the possibility that I voted for the man then starting a war in Afghanistan. I found myself constantly defensive, trying to be the most anti-American member of the group before anyone could accuse me of supporting President George W. Bush’s warmongering. This self-flagellation worked, but left me feeling lonely.

That strong identity fueling your move — what happens to it once you relocate? I have felt deep longing watching Americans unite for Black Lives Matter or No Kings protests. I can march here, but my domestic policy outrage isn’t satiated in the same way.

What if you see similar issues in your adopted country? Will you speak out, like I did about the Netherlands’ racist Zwarte Piet tradition (blackface characters who long accompanied Sinterklaas)? Several times angry Dutch people questioned my motives: “Don’t you have enough problems in America? Stay out of our business!” Will you try to stay silent to avoid conflict? How will that feel?

Here’s the paradox: This outsider status can also be liberating. Living abroad has given me perspective on both my American identity and my adopted home that I never could have gained from either side alone.

My head is certainly European. I embrace higher taxes after I’ve seen how society has taken care of me through childbirth, illness and unemployment. I’m raising a child here who won’t pay health care costs until he’s 18, and has never done a live shooter drill at school.

But my heart is still American. When I land on U.S. soil, I feel at home. It’s messy, it’s alarming, some parts are inconceivable, but it’s still home. I’ll never tire of the uniquely Minnesotan ability to turn a grocery store checkout into a moment of real human connection. There’s nothing like it, anywhere.

This is the emigrant’s dilemma: You’re running toward the promise of a new experience while carrying everything you’re trying to escape. Psychologist John W. Berry, who pioneered research on acculturation, describes this as the process of how people adapt to new cultural contexts. Research shows that the most successful immigrants don’t abandon their original culture entirely, but instead find ways to blend old and new. But even that successful integration means you’re forever caught between worlds, never fully one thing or another.

That split identity is also a gift, once you learn to accept it. Living outside the U.S. for nearly 24 years taught me that the most profound changes happen not when you escape yourself. They happen when you finally learn to live with who you are — wherever you are.

Have an adventure. Live abroad — it will do wonders for your perspective. But do it with your eyes wide open. As I said at the beginning of this, the adventure of a lifetime awaits! Just don’t expect it to be an escape from yourself. The person you’re trying to leave behind will be waiting for you at customs.