Donald Krueger: The Nightmare on Main Street [essay]

Summary: The beach was our introduction. Before streets had names, before cities swallowed the land whole, we met America at the water’s edge. The shore was not soft with welcome — it was hard, jagged, and unforgiving. We were brought here on ships, stripped of names, families, language, and God. The coastline was the first witness to our arrival — not as guests, but as property.

For centuries, the sand has held our footprints, both in chains and in joy. But what happens when the same soil you bled to build starts to feel like a stranger’s home?Today, in 2025, there’s a movement — quiet but undeniable. Black and brown people are leaving. Not just spiritually, as we have done through art, culture, and resilience — but physically. Passports are stamped, bags packed, roots dug up.

And the question I keep asking is: WHY NOW?

What makes this moment worse than centuries before?

We’ve endured slavery, massacres, burning towns, broken treaties, forced sterilizations, redlining, lynchings, COINTELPRO, mass incarceration, police executions caught on tape, and laws designed to keep us barely breathing.

We were murdered legally. We were buried beneath policy.

So why now — when we’ve already been through the worst?

Is this Garvey’s prophecy rising?

Is it the digital age finally making the dream of escape real for everyday people?

Is it collective exhaustion? Or finally, clarity?

Because maybe that’s the shift: We now know who the enemy is.

There’s no more guessing. No more polite denials. The curtain is down.

And what’s behind it is a monster with familiar eyes.

Even white folks are running.

They see it too — a nation stumbling into open authoritarianism.

Not subtle. Not hidden. And not ashamed.

The lines have been drawn.

So here we are again, standing at the shore.

Not in chains, but with choice.

Not forced, but finally free to go.

And I wonder…

Are we leaving because we’ve lost hope?

Or because we’ve found peace?

Have we reached a place where staying no longer feels like resistance, but submission?

Is our departure a sign of defeat — or a declaration of self-love?

Maybe we’ve realized the real American dream was a sedative.

And now, we’re waking up.

Maybe planting roots somewhere else isn’t giving up — maybe it’s finally growing.

Because how long do you keep loving a country that never loved you back?

How long do you stay in a house that still calls you a guest, even after you built it?

We gave this country our everything.

 

Our blood fertilized its fields.

Our genius built its cities.

Our music gave it rhythm.

Our joy made it beautiful.

But now — we’re dreaming different dreams.

Not of assimilation. Not of access.

But of return. Of rebuilding. Of reclaiming.

What was once forced migration may now become chosen liberation.

And maybe that’s the true horror of America’s moment:

Not that we are leaving…

But that we no longer feel guilty for it.

Now I ask you, the reader — Why now?

Why do you think so many of us are ready to go?

Drop a comment and share your truth.