I Left Trump’s America For Canada In 2016. Why I Returned—And How I’m Coping With His Second Term

In November 2016, like millions of Americans, I sat with my family watching the U.S. election night unfold. We were in San Francisco, three hours behind the east coast. I was with my two younger sisters, waiting to witness what we thought would be a historic moment: the election of the first woman president. Instead, Donald Trump won. It was a hard pill to swallow. A man who we believed lacked the values and integrity necessary to hold the highest office in the country had just won the election. I glanced at my sisters, unsettled by what this moment taught them—that the world does not always value dignity, respect or accountability. That night, Canada’s immigration website crashed as thousands of people considered flocking to the north to escape Trump’s forthcoming four-year reign. 

I was already planning a move to Canada myself: I’d decided to leave the U.S. even before Trump became president. I had grown disillusioned with San Francisco. The city felt transient, a place where people came to make a quick buck and build a name for themselves before moving on. That boom-and-bust cycle didn’t foster a real sense of community, and I questioned whether this was where I wanted to build my life long-term. I’d toured other American cities—Austin, Nashville and Portland—searching for somewhere new to build my adult life outside of California. None of them felt right. 

One day in 2016, I got a phone call from a tech firm in Toronto, asking if I would be interested in an open position. I’d never set foot in Canada—like most Americans, I couldn’t even tell you which major city was on which coast. I Googled Toronto while speaking to the recruiter, did all my interviews virtually and took a leap of faith. I took the job as a client services director. 

Was there jealousy among my friends and family that I was leaving the U.S. at a chaotic time? I’m not sure, but we found humour in it. Everyone was joking about moving to Canada, and here I was actually doing it. But some people in my life saw leaving as an abandonment of the fight for the great American project and the ideals of a truly Democratic system, and that running away wasn’t a solution. I didn’t disagree. Nonetheless, two weeks after the election, my work visa was approved. I packed up all my things and moved into my new apartment in Toronto. 

My first few months in Canada were defined by winter. As a Californian, I’d never really lived with snow outside of ski trips. I had to quickly learn about boots and proper winter jackets. But what struck me most wasn’t the weather—it was the sense of community. One day, I was struggling with a huge package, trudging through the snowy streets from a UPS pickup point. A stranger stopped, asked where I was going and helped carry it all the way to my apartment and up the stairs. That would never happen in San Francisco. It was emblematic of Toronto’s neighbourly spirit, something I’d craved back home. 

I also loved how Canada handled cultural diversity. My mother is from Greece and she immigrated to the U.S. a year before I was born, so I’d seen how American society pushes immigrants to assimilate. In contrast, the culture in Canada, especially in Toronto, seemed to encourage immigrant communities to maintain their cultural identities while adding to the country’s social fabric. It seemed to me that many Canadians still speak their native language as their first language, for example. My company sponsored an evening with Syrian refugees who had recently settled in Markham, Ont. We all had dinner together: the refugees practised their English and our staff learned a lot about Syrian culture. It was a beautiful experience, one that represents the type of multicultural community that businesses and individuals are trying to create in Toronto.

Scott at the Toronto Women’s March in 2017. (Photo: Nicole Breanne)

Then there was healthcare. I need a colonoscopy every three years due to a previous cancerous growth. Back in San Francisco, even with insurance from my company, I still had to pay out-of-pocket for it. In Canada, I paid nothing—not a single dollar for the procedure or the follow-up appointment. The peace of mind was phenomenal; I didn’t have to worry about surprise bills or agonize over whether I should get necessary tests. 

Ultimately, however, I decided to move to New York in 2018, when I was about to turn 30. I did it mainly to advance my career. While there are some tech sectors that are strong in Canada, like A.I., the biggest brands and most innovative work in my fields—product design and brand strategy—were still in the U.S. 

Now that I'm back in the U.S., I’m dealing with healthcare bills again. I need a $1,400 dental procedure, and I’m wondering if I should shop around for a better price or find a new dentist altogether. It’s exhausting. Healthcare is one of the leading causes of bankruptcy in the country. And while some states like New York have patient protections against surprise billing, it’s still a far cry from the straightforward, accessible system I experienced in Canada.

Over the years, I’ve reflected often on my experience living in Canada during Trump’s first term. Living here shielded me from the daily news cycle. I could choose to tune in whenever I wanted to and keep tabs from a safe distance. Trump wasn’t the all-consuming force like he was in the U.S.; he was more of a footnote in a broader political landscape (though these days, that’s no longer the case). Now, back in the States, I can’t ignore him or the news. I check the New York Times every morning, trying to track what happened in the last 24 hours. 

A low-grade anxiety hums through the city. But it’s different from 2016. The past eight years have transformed how we talk about mental health, self-preservation and self-love. Instead of constantly refreshing social media feeds and spiralling about what might happen, people are taking steps to protect their peace of mind. Personally, I’ve deleted Instagram to escape the endless doomscrolling and political messaging. I’m trying to focus on what I can control within my own sphere of influence. It’s about putting on your own oxygen mask first—preserving enough energy to help others when the time comes. 

The rhetoric from Trump’s last campaign has raised obvious concerns. What worries me most is the growing instability, how Trump sows distrust of reputable media sources and our democratic institutions. It's one of the first, well-known steps toward authoritarian control. However, most Americans I know are in a wait-and-see mode. While chaos and uncertainty persist, we’re learning to prioritize our mental wellbeing this time around. 

Honestly, I don’t know if I’d ever live in Canada again. The winters were brutal and worse than I’d expected. Travelling with the Canadian dollar was also not fun. There’s nothing quite like earning in U.S. dollars, stepping into Europe and enjoying a near one-to-one exchange rate. But with the Canadian dollar, everything instantly costs 30 percent more the moment you leave the country.  I think this chapter of my life is about building a career I’m proud of, and the opportunities feel infinite in the United States.

I have European citizenship and, while the U.S. is great for making a living, it’s not a great place to live. If I’m lucky enough to reach a point where I can live anywhere, I’d want to be somewhere where there’s a greater emphasis on the tenets of life beyond productivity and capitalism. Toronto showed me what that could look like.