Are You Wondering “Should I Stay or Should I Go?”

It does seem to be a popular question these days, no doubt encouraged by Wendy McElroy’s essay Leave the Police State That Is America, which has been followed up with an excellent series of So ... You Are Staying in the States posts. Part V is the most recent installment, and includes links to its predecessors.

She offers good information, but I’d like to back up and consider Wendy’s advice to leave the USSA. As one who has done so, and returned (after much deep thought regarding that choice), I offer some of my perspective, based on our experiences.

First, some back story for those who might not know it. Lobo and I, through the essay contest for young people that the Liberty Round Table ran, made the acquaintance of a Serbian student whose life was being torn apart by war. We were aghast that Clinton was using money stolen from us to bomb her family and friends (as well as being repulsed by the entire prospect of that war), and decided to leave the country in order to stop supporting it. More accurately, that was the tipping point of a growing unease about the country’s direction and leadership. We thought we could do better elsewhere, and in part because he has family there, we chose to go to México. We liquidated what we could, stored or gave away other stuff, bought a large mobile home and overstuffed it with the remainder, and after what we then thought would be the final LRT conclave, drove south.

At that time we had four children: Lobo’s three from a previous relationship, comprising “the first brood”, and Snolf the First, who was not yet a year old. All of the older ones were old enough to consider our action and make their own choice as to whether to go with us or return to their mother’s home and stay in the USSA. All I can say that isn’t pure speculation regarding their choices is that Lobo strongly encouraged them to stay together—and they did; all three chose to come with us.

As we’d intended to not return to the USSA, we tried to plan as best we could, lining up income streams that could support us while we established ourselves elsewhere and that would flow via online connections, and arranging powers of attorney, a mail drop, and other needs through a pro-freedom friend who was an attorney. We thought we’d planned well, and had backup plans in place, but life always presents unexpected twists.

Our monster RV was bought for a song, because it was old. It was in fairly decent condition for its age, but as I said, we overstuffed it ... and probably pushed it harder than was wise. Repairs were required before we left the states, and threatened our budget almost immediately. Ultimately we sold it in order to feed our family and acquire funds to travel further south, to what we thought would become our new home.

Our plans showed their cracks almost immediately, as the primary mobile income stream dried up (it was later shown to be a scam) and the secondary one fell by the wayside as “out of sight, out of mind” seemed to take hold. The overseer of our dealings in America also was shown to be less responsive and timely in tending to affairs than was necessary: as payment schedules were missed, late fees and interest rate hikes gobbled more of our dwindling income. I think we all overestimated the demands on his time, and his ability to keep up with everything; and we had no support in place for him, nor any alternative to him. That was a serious failure on our part.

Why did we return, after less than a year there? Many reasons, some of which I’ll address in a few minutes, but the primary one was this: I’d gotten pregnant, and after much discussion on the matter, Lobo and I agreed that it would probably be best for Snolf the Second to be born in the USSA. So, we had another garage sale, gave away many of our most cherished possessions that had been toted across México, and paid for the remainder to be flown with us back here.


Our saga provides much to consider in evaluating staying here or leaving. Despite having family support—and probably not making as much use of it as we should’ve, stubborn individualists that we were—it was very challenging to get ourselves established there. The support threads we did use were much thinner than we’d thought, and most snapped. Under the omnipresent strain of budgetary struggles, many of our good ideas were never able to be tested—we were just getting to a position of being able to try a couple when Snolf the Second made her presence known.

Lobo and I also underestimated the personal strains on ourselves, and the entire family. The culture is different there, particularly regarding women, and I had a difficult time adjusting. Lobo had promised to teach us all Spanish, and indeed we began lessons before setting out, but they fell by the wayside both here and there, as other things (especially financial ones) seemed to be more urgent. Some of us, being rather too perfectionistic or ego-indulgent, were very reluctant to test our budding skills by actually speaking to anyone, and thus Lobo ended up carrying far too much of the familial responsibilities. The first brood became more unhappy and withdrawn, rather than actively seeking playmates as they’d done before; one by one, they changed their minds and returned to the states and their mother. I spun into a bitter, negative state that became depression, which not only hobbled what little I could and would do, it significantly dampened our relationship. I am still dealing with some of the aftereffects—and I’m sure my change played a role in the ending of our romantic partnership some years after our return.

An obvious lesson is that there really is no such thing as overplanning when considering such a momentous change. One’s life will be altered in ways that one cannot conceive beforehand, and while one cannot concoct a plan to cover every possibility, it is wise to have multiple ideas for covering basic needs. It is also wise to cultivate a perspective of embracing the challenges, rather than letting them pull one down mentally, as I did. Don’t overestimate your ability to handle such changes—don’t let your desire for greater freedom put you in a position of needing to become something you cannot.

Another crucial element is that of support: cultivate it in advance if possible; but then don’t be afraid to rely on it when necessary! That can be a very difficult thing for individualist, anarchist Americans to do, but it can make the difference between success and failure. Sometimes “rugged individualism” can block one’s path. Of course, if one succeeds one then has a basis for helping out those who helped him, which also strengthens community bonds.

Relatedly, almost everyone will feel uprooted from family and friends, one’s established habits, etc., to some degree. Accept that and allow grieving, but don’t let it become wallowing; the best cure for it is to move forward. Cultivate new habits (healthier ones, if possible) and be open to new friendships. It is much healthier to make such a jump with a goal of building a new life in one’s new location rather than trying to create a small island of the USSA there. Things that we take for granted here may be exorbitantly expensive there (for me, the greatest shock was perhaps the lack of brown sugar in anything larger than individual-serving packets), or simply not available at any price.

Which brings me to the firearms issue. Yes, of course we had to shed all our beloved PMs before making our move; and it was not done lightly. But it was necessary. If you cannot even conceive of considering it, then the question of going expat has been answered for you and you need read no further. That said, if one is willing to be patient, discreet, and pay the right people large sums of money, firearms can be acquired elsewhere. Or they may already be there ... We were very pleasantly surprised to find a Remington 870 in the family—somewhat worse for the lack of use, but I was able to help a little with that (and also impressed some people as to what a woman can actually do). Also, other means of self-defense will surely be available in a local flavor or two ... it’s a good idea to familiarize oneself with them.

Some question the idea that anywhere else is better able to ride out the coming storm than the USSA and possibly Canada. One can examine the issue from two broad perspectives (and probably others). Those who are skeptical of the expat alternative may point to all the infrastructure in place in developed countries as a point in favor of staying. And that would be a valid point, if one could be certain that it would continue to work. The down side of highly technologically-based societies is that when a technology or some infrastructure fails, it can cause a lot of collateral damage. The specter of that kind of damage in a place like the USSA—which has shed a lot of its agrarian, self-sufficient, mind-your-own-business roots—is frightening to me ... especially when I consider what my children may have to face in coming years. If one lives close enough to an urban area or even to a highway to one, being well-armed and prepared may not be sufficient to keep what one has built safe from desperate and/or unsavory people.

Our travels in México, and more recently in Lithuania, Latvia, and Georgia, suggest to me that agrarian and resourceful lifestyles haven’t faded as strongly there. Moreover, people in the latter countries, having endured the hard times of Soviet occupation, know a thing or two about agorism and getting by on the sly. Having not risen as high as the USSA, the cultures have less far to fall. Yes, they do still have the Russian bear on their doorsteps, and that is not a thing to take lightly: but are we in this country not already feeling the same stifling controls the Soviets instituted? Is not our military buildup and meddlesomeness siphoning away too many lives and dollars?

Some may raise another valid objection: that it is sheer hubris and folly to think that expat Americans would be welcomed wherever they want to relocate. If one has the idea that one can sweep into a country and community and transform it into something akin to what one left in the states, then I’d agree—that is folly, and it is sure to be off-putting. However, if one does one’s homework in advance, and in so doing starts building respectful, positive relationships in the new locale; if one can bring value (gold, silver, tools, or other things with intrinsic worth) and/or create value within the local framework; and if one works hard to demonstrate that he is not a stereotypical “ugly American”, then one will show himself to be a positive addition to the community.

I’m sure I’ve missed at least a few important considerations, but I’ve rambled on enough. My point is not to try to persuade anyone in either direction—my goal is to try to help those considering the question to think through some fundamental issues before reaching a decision. I respect those who choose to stay as much as those who go, if they’ve invested the attention and thought such a choice requires—and especially for the reasons Joel mentions. I will do my best to address any questions on the subject; and I hope Jorge and other conspirators with expertise in it will add their voices, too.