Our Big Move To France

We arrived just ahead of the coming cyclone and spent a sleepless night, with 60mph winds howling outside, mirroring the tragedy filled unrest in our hearts.

We packed up the cats in our rental car and drove 4 hours to Normandy, Rouen, the medieval jewel where Joan of Arc was imprisoned, tortured and burned at the stake. We arrived to the news that Renee Nicole Good had been murdered by ICE agents. Like any decent human being, I was shaken to my core. And being here, in the shadow of France’s most cherished shero, the pattern of state sponsored terrorism is long and it is well established. And from micro aggressions to murder, this is where we are in America.

So to write about our trip as a travelogue seems so wrong right now. But to write about our trip in the true light of why we are here– as rejection of the white nationalist takeover with the complicity and giddy support of a third of the citizenship and in a huge part due to the constant triggering of my unbearable, soul killing PTSD by an administration literally run by rapists– well, this seems to be my message.