This weekend, I was hanging out in our neighborhood pool area with my husband and a friend when my phone rang three times in a row. My mother’s name lit up the screen, but I didn’t see or hear it… and I missed her call by 30 minutes.
By the time I noticed, I called her back, but no answer.
Then, I texted her. Still nothing.
At first, I reasoned it away. Maybe she was caught up in something and would call back.
Then, at 4:30 a.m., I rolled over and instinctively grabbed my phone. The first thing I saw was a video on my cousin’s Facebook feed: aerial footage of a small Mississippi town, battered and broken. A series of tornado had torn through, leaving ruin in their wake…
The same area where much of my maternal family lives.
And suddenly, I knew. That was why she called me.
Now, imagine the sheer terror that set in.
The Worst Part About Distance
I’ve lived abroad for four years now. In that time, I’ve received my fair share of calls bearing bad news. It never feels good and it never gets easier.
But there’s something about knowing a natural disaster has ripped through a town where so much of your family is, while you’re thousands of miles away, that heightens the sense of helplessness.
That morning, I cycled through every possible scenario and then started calling around.
I tried my mom again—no answer. I dialed my grandmother’s house—nothing. I called my brother, who had spoken with her around the time the storm hit, but hadn’t heard from her since. Then I called my cousin, who finally pieced together an update. The power was out. Phone lines were down. My mother and grandmother were okay.
Relief came in waves, but the weight of the moment is still with me. The knowledge that, had the storm shifted slightly, this could have been an entirely different call. One that no one living thousands of miles away from their only living parent ever wants to receive.
For me, the hardest part of living abroad isn’t the distance itself—it’s the moments when that distance feels insurmountable. It’s when something happens, and you can’t just hop in your car and be at your mother’s doorstep in an hour. Or when all you have is the distance and your prayers.
When a Nation is in Collapse, Who Gets Saved?
After wading through my own personal panic, my mind couldn’t help but think about this on a more macro level: what happens when disasters strike in a country that is actively gutting the agencies meant to respond?
Between Friday and Saturday, a string of 52 tornadoes ripped through eight states—Missouri, Kansas, Arkansas, Alabama, Texas, Oklahoma, North Carolina, and Mississippi.
The projected destruction was so severe that the governor of Mississippi issued a state of emergency and imposed a curfew.
By the end of it, forty-two lives were lost, six of them in Mississippi.
And as if that weren’t enough, a 3.0 magnitude earthquake struck an area of Mississippi at the exact same time as one of the tornadoes.
Trump has made hundreds of cuts to FEMA staff, weakening disaster response infrastructure at a time when climate change is making these events more frequent and more severe. And yet, the budget for policing, for military defense, for everything but human survival, remains bloated and intact.
…In addition to the fact that eggs are $12 a dozen.
It’s disorienting to witness a government that is so actively indifferent to the suffering of its people, and it makes me wonder—who gets saved when the storm comes? Who gets left behind?
Unfortunately, I also learned that my cousin’s brother was one of the six deaths reported in Mississippi. He was also one of the many casualties of a system that treats Black life as an afterthought, even in death.
The weight of that reality is inescapable and it’s a stark reminder that survival in America too often depends on luck and circumstance, rather than infrastructure and care.
The Trade-Offs of Expat Life
There’s no sugarcoating it. Living abroad comes with massive trade-offs. And one of the biggest is the gnawing knowledge that there will come a day when I will get a call that changes everything…
A call I won’t be able to do anything about. A call where distance won’t just be an inconvenience—it will be a painful, gut-wrenching reality.
I don’t regret my decision to leave. But in moments like these, I do reckon with the weight of it.
What keeps me steady is knowing that I’ve built a life that allows me to go back when I need to. That, soon, I’ll be able to hug my mother and grandmother, and see for myself that they’re okay. That I can interact with my family in person, not just through a screen.
But it also reminds me that we cannot afford to be without community. That no government is coming to save us. And that in the face of catastrophe, all we have is each other.
This is why mutual aid is necessary. It’s why we have to be intentional about building networks of care, whether we’re in the U.S. or beyond its borders. Because when disaster strikes, the only safety net we’ll be able to count on is the one we’ve woven for ourselves.
My heart aches for all who are mourning the loss of friends and loved ones in the wake of this devastating disaster. May you find comfort in the embrace of those who hold you close, and may you be sustained by love in this time of sorrow and loss.
-Courtney
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