BY MICHAEL MUSTO | Every time there’s a Presidential election coming, the cry comes up from the liberals: “If so and so wins, I’m moving to another country!” And they never do. I have to admit that this past November, I joined their pained wails. This felt like the most consequential election in American history, with Trump—who had amassed criminal charges and was far from fit to rule the country—threatening to topple our long-loved democracy with his reckless disregard for laws, decency, and the will of the people.

I honestly never thought he’d win, but in case he did, I was all set to pack up my bags and head to Mexico, Portugal, New Zealand—basically anywhere but here. After all, I’m all the things he hates—gay, a New Yorker, a liberal, a member of the media, and a critic of Donald Trump. With him viciously vowing revenge on his enemies, I was somewhere way below Liz Cheney on the list, but still, I was definitely on the list and it was a worrisome place to be.

And yet, I stayed put. And so did almost everyone I know.

Part of the reason for my shocking inertia is the sad truth that at this point, I’m just too settled to switch countries. I would have to sell my apartment, look for a new one far, far away, and change virtually everything about my existence while relocating to a second rate version of the country I‘ve lived in my entire life. I’d need to learn a foreign language and develop a whole new network of professional help—plus I’d have to get over the terror that’s kept me off a plane for over a decade. It was much easier to sit back and feebly accept my fate, realizing that I can’t drive, I don’t want to live on Zoom, and I simply can’t adapt very well at this point in life. Even Canada seemed too big a leap for me—plus I’d die of the cold and maybe even the boredom! Besides, who’s to say that whatever country you move to won’t also turn fascist two weeks after your arrival? There are no guarantees.

But the real impetus for my not seeking asylum elsewhere—or not “seeking an asylum,” as dumb Trump would say—is that I’ve convinced myself that while Trump will indeed be an even worse leader than last time, it seems like there will still be some checks and balances left, to keep things semi-civilized. Some guardrails might limit his mania, thanks to Dems’ strong showing in the House and the fact that the Republicans in Congress are poised to keep fighting amongst themselves and eating each other alive. Knowing that the ACLU will sue Trump for every rotten misdeed he attempts has also given me comfort.

I’m well aware that this could be pure delusion and we might be heading toward totalitarianism, but hope is all we’ve got right now, so I’m clinging to it like a mofo. We’ve fought, protested, screamed, voted, and urged others to do so, but where did it get us? He’s President again! Fighting and screaming seem fruitless now, so I have to admit that I’ve thrown my hands up, tuned out of reading about every lousy thing he says and does, and simply hoped for the best. Naturally, I will stay as informed and angry as need be, but I don’t want to keep being consumed by my loathing of the Lyin’ King, since it’s a bottomless well that’s proven to be a gigantic waste of time.

And there is hope in chanting “At least we live in New York State.” It does provide some solace to know that we’re in a blue bubble where “states’ rights” could save us again and again. That could change, of course, but basically, nothing’s a given, so I’m putting on my best Annie Warbucks grin and sticking with my creature comforts for as long as I can. Besides, leaving the country is exactly what Trump and his MAGAs would love us to do.

One friend did recently head for the exit, a relocation that was in motion even before the election; he saw the writing on the wall. He savvily moved to Brazil, fed up with the fact that America has clearly failed as a system and Trump not only managed to outsmart every single indictment, he emerged with official immunity! Brazil has the right idea. They promptly charged Bolsonaro with fraud and forbade him from running again for eight years. Now that’s how it’s done, people.

Should I move to Brazil too? Sure, but then, what if Bolsonaro takes power again in six years? I guess I’ll just stay put in my beloved NYC. Fortunately, I’ve already lived my life and achieved my goals and have seen the glory days of every creative discipline there is. I plan to spend what’s left of my life desperately trying to eke out pleasure in a country where three out of four engines have stalled. But don’t worry. I’ll always have one eye on my luggage.

Michael Musto is a columnist, pop cultural and political pundit, NYC nightlife chronicler, author, and the go-to gossip responsible for the long-running (1984-2013) Village Voice column, “La Dolce Musto.” His work appears on this website as well as Queerty.com and thedailybeast.com, and he is writing for the new Village Voice, which made its debut in April of 2021. Follow Musto on Instagram, via @michaelmusto.

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