I moved abroad after a US election. It didn’t go exactly as planned

While many social media users and a handful of celebrities have suggested they’re looking into moving abroad rather than live under a second Trump presidency, I took the plunge following the election of George W Bush. I soon realized that I may have been a little naive

President-elect Donald Trump speaks with members of the media (REUTERS)

The day after Donald Trump was declared the winner of the 2024 election, several MAGA faithful took to social media to encourage “friends” to relocate to another part of the world. They recommended moving companies, storage units, one-way tickets to Siberia – and saying goodbye with a GFY.

These were tongue-in-cheek responses, of course, but they were responding to serious suggestions. Many of those who had voted for Kamala Harris and were disappointed by the outcome had made comments that they would leave the States if Trump were elected.  Rumblings of politically motivated departures were also made by celebrities such as Travis and Taylor, Barbra Streisand, Cher and America Ferrera.

I know how they feel. Nearly 20 years ago, when it seemed like a president could not get any worse than George W. Bush, my husband and I decided we would immigrate with our daughter to New Zealand in an effort to leave the US political climate behind.

I don’t regret our decision to move, but a word of caution: If the election results have you thinking that a permanent move from the U  is necessary, make sure you know what I didn’t understand – politics transcends borders.

We took our first steps as permanent residents in Aotearoa shortly after Bush began his second term. We enrolled our then-toddler daughter, Faith, at a parent cooperative play center. Initially, I found the fellow parents guarded around me. I sat by myself on most days, keeping an eye on Faith, embracing whatever undesirable chores – like cleaning the toilet – the other parents tasked me with, grateful for any interaction. It took until Obama became president that I understood why. The co-op lead motioned for me to help swing a jump rope for a group of kiddos just after his election. I must have looked around to see if she was really seeking me, because she said, “We like you now,” as she handed me the end of the rope, “because we like your president.”

Our accents identified us, and often led to the innocent question of where we were from. While Obama was president, we were less hesitant to respond, knowing that he had a favorable opinion among a global audience.  But after 2016, the interrogation was deeper to determine if we were overseas Trumpers: Did everyone in California own a gun? Did we think injecting bleach in our veins was a good idea? Were we pro-choice or anti-choice?

When Jacinda Ardern, the progressively popular, gun-law tightening, culturally sensitive, te reo Māori speaking, rainbow-friendly NZ Prime Minister abruptly resigned in 2023, it opened the seat for Christopher Luxon. Like Donald Trump, he wasn’t a career politician. And when Luxon espoused the platform, “Get NZ Back on Track,” it sounded awfully close to Trump’s “Make America Great Again.”

Luxon’s coalition government has alliances with Act leader David Seymour and NZ First leader Winston Peters. Māori culture is the cornerstone of Aotearoa New Zealand, but Peters has championed an “English First” movement, including the elimination of the Māori language from government institutions. Paul Goldsmith, the minister of Arts, Culture and Heritage, directed that Māori language be removed from official invitations to a celebration of Matariki, a Māori holiday. Seymour has sponsored the Principles of the Treaty of Waitangi Bill –  which ultimately limits NZ Māori rights and their access to justice by reinterpreting the Treaty of Waitangi.

But bad behavior by political leaders in New Zealand happened long before Luxon’s administration or Trump’s influence. The study of the landmark constitution case of Fitzgerald v Muldoon was integral to my first year at Auckland Law School.

In 1974, Robert Muldoon campaigned for prime minister with a platform to end New Zealand’s tax-supported superannuation pension plan.  Upon winning the election, he thought he could do away with the program before Parliament approved it. Muldoon breached the NZ Bill of Rights 1688: “[The] execution of laws [...] without consent of Parliament, is illegal.” Similar to the many legal actions against Trump, the case resulted in a declaration that Muldoon broke the law, but he continued on as PM, was not remorseful, and – also similar to Trump – complained to the public about how he’d been treated.

In other words, New Zealand — and indeed anywhere else in the world that Americans have talked about moving to on social media over the past couple of weeks — is hardly the progressive utopia some might imagine.

Jimmy Kimmel recently suggested that disgruntled Democrats should not move overseas, but rather move to Pennsylvania or Florida where their votes are needed. As for my partner and I, we continue to vote in US elections — we are, after all, American citizens. But when we get sucked into contentious political discussions we desperately wanted to avoid in our adopted country, is it our job to educate or do we keep our mouths shut? I found myself butting heads with a local during a casual conversation when she opined that no one – not even a second term of Trump – could be worse than Biden. I responded like an angry Democrat:  “If you haven’t lived through it, you have no right to comment.”

Similarly, my husband’s call with an Auckland banker started with small talk about a vacation, which somehow led to forty-five minutes trying to dispel the myth that Trump was the greatest politician ever to have lived.

Later, I asked, “Did you change his mind?”

“No,” my husband responded. “But from now on, if anyone asks me about Trump, I’m simply going to say that I’m glad to be here.”