Unrooted in a Promised Land

5/14/2025

By: Tina Child

I didn’t come to this country for financial gain or to “steal someone's job”. I came here to build a life with someone I love. 

If you're a citizen of a country, especially one that calls itself free, it should be not only logical, but fundamental, that you have the right to be with your family, even if they weren’t born here. That’s what we believed when we started this journey.

Moving from Serbia, a country with a hybrid regime and fragile civil liberties, I expected challenges. I expected paperwork, culture shock, maybe even a bit of loneliness. What I didn’t expect was how quickly a single election could change the entire tone of a nation, especially toward people like me.

For a while, I believed I had arrived in one of the freest countries in the world. The Constitution, especially the First Amendment, felt like a lifeline. Coming from a place where speech is often chilled and power is concentrated, the idea of having rights that couldn’t be taken away was more than comforting. It felt transformative.

But then the election happened. And overnight, the feeling shifted.

Suddenly, the word “immigrant” was synonymous with “threat.” The debates stopped being about policy and became personal. What once felt like quiet unease turned into outright hostility. And then, there was the arrest of Mahmoud Khalil.

A legal permanent resident arrested for speech deemed threatening. The specifics were murky. The message was crystal clear: If you weren’t born here, the First doesn’t protect you.

As someone still adjusting to a new life, I felt the floor drop. The term “alien,” which I had already written about with uneasy humor, started to feel less like legal jargon and more like a slur.

Then came the tariffs.

Groceries cost more. Essentials became almost luxuries. Every week brought a new kind of squeeze. I was exhausted. Emotionally, financially, politically. My partner and I knew something had to change. We couldn’t fight the whole system, but if we had to be a part of it, we would meet it on our own terms.

So, we packed up and hit the road.

We chose a state where we felt safer. More than that, we chose a way of life—boondocking, traveling, living minimally and freely. The backroads became our new home. The wilderness, our brief escape from the headlines. The silence of the desert speaks louder than any senator ever could. 

This isn’t just a political story. And it’s not just a travel blog.

It’s about how policies ripple into pantries, into relationships, into the quiet, anxious corners of your mind. It’s about what it means to feel unrooted. Not just geographically, but emotionally. And it’s also about finding moments of clarity and peace in the outdoors, in a quiet campfire, or a night sky untouched by headlines.

Whether you're thinking about full-time life on the road, curious about weekend boondocking, or just trying to understand what the national mood feels like for people who weren’t born here—this space is for you.

We’re unrooted, but still moving forward. And maybe, for now, that’s enough.