Ducking the US

Before the current administration imposed tariffs on Canadian goods (and those from Mexico and China) and President Trump took to calling Prime Minister Trudeau ‘Governor’ (and threatening to make Canada, Greenland, and Panama part of the States), I wanted to create some distance from the US. Initially, my motivation was related to gun violence and then to the first Trump presidency—and now there’s even more reason to stay away and spend money elsewhere.

Here’s how I’ve been voting with my dollars over the last few years and how I’m stepping up avoiding US-based goods and services. It takes effort and mindfulness and I am not absolutist in my approach (well, other than bourbon, Levis, and Harley Davidson). I’m not suggesting my self-imposed limits are right for anyone else (case in point: my other half sometimes enjoys a little bourbon) or judging others’ purchasing decisions (loving Tar-jay or Val-de-Mart is not something to feel guilty about), but making thoughtful choices makes me feel a tiny bit better about the state of the world and my role in it.

Journey (or jog) on

I can’t remember exactly when I decided I wouldn’t travel to the US. I suspect it was late-2010s, possible around the same time Amnesty International issued a travel advisory for the US, reflecting how ongoing gun violence makes the country unsafe. Since then, governments in Australia, Canada, France, New Zealand, the UK, Venezuela, and Uruguay have all cautioned their citizens about travelling to the US for safety reasons, particularly for LGBTQI+ people and women.

I haven’t travelled to the US or transited through it since 2013 (admittedly, living in Europe does make that easier) and actively choose routes that don’t involve US transfers (that’s a big ‘no’ to flying through Seatac to get to Vancouver!).

Bourbon, Levis, and Harley Davidson

Around the time Trump was first elected, I stopped drinking bourbon. A bourbon sour was my go-to drink, but, as it’s exclusively made in Kentucky, it’s easy pickin’s. If I wanted to be finicky, I suppose I’d avoid anything aged in bourbon casks (which would exclude a lot of whisky/whiskey, port, wine, and other spirits), but action, not perfection, is my aim.

I also stopped going to Starbucks and buying Levis or Harley Davidsons (okay, that last one was pretty easy). Steering clear of these iconic American brands allows me to set a firm boundary and has resulted in pursuing some excellent alternatives (like the no-longer available UK-produced whisky pictured and this bourbon-style one from Okanagan Spirits). The ban held even when my brother-in-law showed up with a litre of duty free straight from Kentucky (I was grateful that lovely local producers filled the void).

The shift in international sentiment since Trump took office is making it easier to avoid US products. A former Apple co-worker built the Maple Scan app to help determine the Canadian-ness of products and many retailers are adding markings to their shelves (I shared how a Danish grocery chain is modifying their electronic price tags to indicate European products in Last Week in Denmark).

For the record, I’m demonstrating my imperfect application by not swapping out Swedish-founded, now US-venture-fund-backed Oatley (as verified by Maple Scan) in my morning coffee 🙈

Tetchy with tech

Avoiding US-based technology providers is hard, although I do feel like I’m making some inroads. I don’t purchase anything from Amazon (although I suspect my partner would very much like to override this and get Prime!) and moved from Bezos-owned Goodreads to StoryGraph in 2021. I closed my Twitter account a few months back (find me on Bluesky now) and I’m exploring options to move away from Google (Alphabet products have taken prime footing as the ruler of my online world).

In the last month, I’ve switched to searching with Qwant (France-based) instead of Googling, using DeepL (from Germany) for online translations, and surfing through Opera (Norwegian-founded, now backed by a Chinese consortium) rather than Chrome. I’ve been pleased with these three alternatives (there is a learning curve with Opera, but it is excellent for cross-device sharing and DeepL is simply excellent for Danish <> English conversions). But other experiments like ditching Google Maps for HERE WeGo (it’s a decent Dutch app, but not as easy-to-use or useful as the Alphabet offering) or trying other European alternatives haven’t been as successful. I haven’t even bothered looking at alternatives to Google Docs/Calendar/Gmail (baby steps, right?) and extracting myself from the Metaverse feels highly unlikely.

Most mornings, I ease into the day by scrolling through Instagram (Oatley-laced coffee in hand) and can’t quite cut the cord with Facebook (so many cross-country connections uniquely there!), but I have updated my Instagram and Facebook settings to help make my personal information less valuable to Meta.

In that same vein, I take a few seconds (and some careful reading) to reject tracking tracking cookies whenever I have the option. It’s alarming how many “partners” some websites have (in the thousands!) and how loosely they explain how information will be used and retained (what the heck is “legitimate interest”?). Because monetisation often relies on using personal data for targeted ads, rejecting cookies might decrease how much tech companies (most of which are US-based) make off of me and perhaps protest how much time those cookie banners eat (estimates are over 575M hours are wasted dealing with them every year in Europe!).

A flawed footprint

My ‘system’ (if it even counts as such) is highly imperfect. I’m gonna keep the Oatley, but source my coffee (and plenty of other stuff) from non-US brands and continue eschewing made-in-America spirits (and wine and beer). Meta, Alphabet, and Apple are deeply enmeshed with my day-to-day and I can’t see that changing (or, rather, I’m not prepared to make the necessary sacrifices), but I can try to use a few alternatives.

This is not an all or nothing proposition. (Anyone else thinking about the indecipherable, constantly shifting personal scoring system from The Good Place?). It comes down to decisions that make me feel good (or, at least, better)—and trying not to feel guilty about imperfect implementation. And my belief that something is better than nothing.