HOLDING TWO WORLDS AT ONCE

I recently returned from spending my longest consecutive time in the United States since I moved to Sweden in 1997—almost three whole months! Yes, I have become a middle-aged cliché and escaped the lengthy, gloomy Swedish winter for warmer climes in Florida. It was wonderful to be in the same time zone as my children and to spend quality time with them, extended family, and friends. I tend to overthink things, so I was a bit nervous that this prolonged stay would not meet my expectations. Almost as though I had lived in Europe for so long that I would find fault with typically American things—another unfortunate cliché. Luckily, that wasn’t the case at all!

I'm proud of my Swedish fluency, but I can't overstate how liberating it felt to express myself fully in English and crack jokes without worrying about whether they made any sense or if I had made a grammatical error. There were no blank stares or furrowed brows or a Swede's reflexive switch to English. I also reconnected with my inner suburban girl, the teen who hung out at malls and related to the same pop-culture references. I loved going to Costco and marveled at all the things I could buy in bulk. I adored shopping for discounted household items at Target and Home Goods. I was obsessed with the deli that served ginormous bagels filled with lox, tuna, or chicken salad. Yes, it didn’t seem humanly possible that I could consume such a big serving—yet I did. I embraced, wholeheartedly, walking around in Lululemons and flip-flops. I welcomed how people weren’t afraid to make eye contact, break into a smile, or say hello. I joined the small talk at check-out lines and appreciated the generous invitations we received from friends of friends or people we had recently met. I treasured the diversity, the hum of different languages, and the proximity to my Haitian heritage.

I still feel a strong connection to the country where I was born and raised, despite its imperfections. No place is perfect, and I cringe at the snobby expats whose years abroad have made them condescending towards their fellow Americans. Ironically, I feel more American than ever on foreign soil and inevitably become a sounding board for people's positive and negative perceptions of the country. Since my return, I’ve fielded many questions about the state of affairs in the United States, and I’m always fascinated by how up-to-date Swedes are in what’s going on across the pond. Some may even argue that interested Swedes may know more about current events stateside than many Americans do. Could it be because our politics have become a form of entertainment? Each day, there is a new headline that can make your head spin. I often think that, as a writer, you couldn’t credibly make this stuff up!

More importantly, Sweden and the rest of Europe have long considered the United States a partner and reliable ally, and must now navigate a new dynamic in their relationship. People are so invested because, for better or worse, what happens in the US impacts their lives—economically, geographically, militarily, and personally. Many Swedes who broach the topic with me have traveled, lived, worked, or studied in the United States and still hold fond memories of their time there. It’s as though the US is an old friend who suddenly ghosted them, and they have no idea why. Keep in mind, these are my anecdotal observations. Sentiments surely vary.

Since I majored in political science, I do have strong opinions, and if you’ve known me or followed my feed, you may have an inkling of what they are. However, I intentionally avoid discussing hot-button political topics on social media, preferring face-to-face conversations where points of view can be expanded upon, allowing for nuance rather than toxicity. I firmly believe in the old-fashioned tradition of civilized debate, one where we can disagree without being disagreeable.

As a writer, my goal is to entertain and resonate with readers while also addressing issues that are important to me. Every one of my novels touches upon race, class, and society through my characters’ backstories, conflicts, and desires. I’ve often questioned if this—no matter how subtle—is a good approach. Aren't readers looking for an escape from politics and polemics? And what if my perspective—no matter how layered—turns them off? But the months I spent in the US only reaffirmed that politics is inevitable; it's the lens through which we view our lives. It seeps into our everyday discourse, whether in casual comments or full-fledged conversations.

I want my stories to reflect where we are at this moment, albeit wrapped in an engaging narrative, riveting characters, and atmospheric settings. That was certainly my intent with Sommaren på Nornö / A Norn in Bloom, where I tackled the topic of outsider-ness through a mixed-race daughter and a troubled single mother who don’t conform to Swedish behavioral norms of lagom—characters who are struggling to fit in and resist the pressure to suppress their emotions and truth. I take it a step further in the sequel, Nornöns Eko/A Norn’s Echo, by shifting the action to the United States, following the characters as they seek family and community in the post-pandemic era.

I’m thrilled to report that my re-entry into Sweden has been incredibly smooth. As our days in Florida drew to a close, I began to yearn for my old routines and to get started on my Swedish to-do list. Love led me to build my life here, raise a family, publish my novels, and make wonderful friends—and I have no regrets. It also helped that we came back at the best time. The increased daylight is a joyful beacon, and the flowering cherry blossoms are like welcome bouquets scattered around town. Lately, the sky has been a vibrant, azure blue mirroring the Swedish flag. Stockholm has come alive, and these weeks before everyone disappears after Midsummer are among my favorites; sidewalk cafes overflow, parks are full, and people instinctively lift their heads instead of looking down—meeting each other’s gaze, open to one another and to new possibilities. External conditions may change from day-to-day, but the underlying optimism remains.

One world does not have to replace the other. I’m grateful that I get to experience both—in all their complexity and contradictions.