Deported: A Thought Experiment

2026

When they told me I had to leave the country, it felt like complete nonsense. Jeanette and I discussed emigrating at least a dozen times over the past eight years, hoping to bail on our shifting society. We identified countries that might work—the English speakers: Canada of course. Australia. New Zealand sounds appealing. I know my kids would move there with us. But would these countries take us in? What would we do for work? Could we find a home? Could we afford one? Qualify for national healthcare? So many questions. We never got past the scheming.

The notice came registered mail, I guess to record that I received it. Just a green notice stuck on the front door: Registered mail at the post office, fifteen days to pick it up. I envisioned a bequest—it’s all yours if you spend one night in the haunted castle. The post office is only open while I’m at work. Well, Saturday morning too. I had to skip the last hour of my bike ride to get in before they closed. I’ve dealt with this before. Last time I bought a laptop, the mail carrier wouldn’t leave it on my porch. That was a Monday. I limped along with my ailing laptop for five more days. I was pretty pissed I cut my ride short for this crap.

When he said he was running on a love-it-or-leave-it-platform, I rolled my eyes. We’ve been hearing this garbage for decades. Most recently when Colin Kaepernick and then other athletes took a knee during the anthem. Before that during the hippie rebellion of the late-sixties. Deportation, such an unbelievable threat. Besides, who decides who is patriotic? Dissent is as American as, well, Paul Revere. Where would we be without protest? Colonial Rule? Slavery? No Votes for Women? Uncivil Rights?

George Floyd was the turning point. At first, the nation came together. Unacceptable, we all screamed. I never imagined such unity. Just as quickly, the tide turned. Some people took the protests personally, as if it was all directed at them. Perhaps it was. The concept that Black lives matter inexplicably offends people. Half of the white population doesn’t think systemic racism exists. That downtown rally I went to was the only time someone holding a gun threatened me. Tentacles reached out: parental rights, anti-gay/anti-trans backlash, doubling down on a Christian nation. A culture war settled in. It’s been us against them ever since.

Homeland Security sent the letter. “My anti-American writings prove I’m a danger to the country.” My citizenship is revoked. I’m illegal—that’s the word they used in the letter. I contend I’m not anti-American, I’m anti-president. This president. They gave me two months to clear out.

For now, it’s Canada. They just announced provisional visas for deported US citizens. I think we’re fortunate to be among the first wave of refugees. Eventually, Canada will close its southern border. Ha. The irony. I guess it serves us right.

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This thought experiment popped into my head after being assigned the writer’s prompt: it felt like complete nonsense… last week. I find it hard not to imagine a lingering dystopia just beyond the horizon. I’m hopeful this remains fiction.

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Previously Published on jefftcann.com and is republished on Medium.

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