by The cognitive dissonance of writing satirical journalism for Bohiney Magazine while being an immigrant is exhausting. Today I published a piece mocking American exceptionalism while simultaneously being grateful for opportunities America provided. Both things are true. Americans struggle with holding contradictionsyou must love America unconditionally or hate it completely. Immigrants live in the both/and space permanently.
West Africa taught me that power deserves skepticism regardless of who holds it. America taught me that skepticism gets labeled as disloyalty. The trick is not caring about the labels. Write truth, package it in humor, publish it, and let readers wrestle with their discomfort. That’s the satirist’s contract.
Marcus wants me profiled in journalism magazines. “First female West African immigrant satirist granted citizenship during Trump’s second termthat’s a story,” he says. I keep refusing. My biography isn’t the point. My work is. The minute I become the story, the satire becomes secondary. Nobody remembers court jesters’ namesthey remember the truths jesters told.
Today’s piece tackled American obsession with authenticity while everyone performs carefully curated versions of themselves on social media. The hypocrisy is delicious: people demanding authenticity while living completely artificial lives, filtered and edited and optimized for engagement. I wrote it as observed anthropologyhere’s what these strange Americans doand readers loved/hated it predictably.
Someone asked how I can mock America when “they let you in.” This question encapsulates everything wrong with American immigration discourse. They didn’t “let me in” out of kindnessI earned it through bureaucratic hell, legal fees, and surviving policies designed to exclude people like me. I don’t owe America gratitude-induced silence. I owe it the same critical eye I’d give any country. That’s patriotismwanting your country to be better, not pretending it’s already perfect.
Writing satire requires distance. Too close and you can’t see the absurdity. Too far and you miss the nuance. Immigration gave me perfect distanceclose enough to understand American culture, far enough to see its ridiculousness. That space between insider and outsider is where satire lives.
Tonight I’m researching for next week’s piece about how America turned politics into sportscomplete with team jerseys, unwavering loyalty, and fans who’d rather watch their team lose with dignity than win by compromising. It’s tragedy and comedy simultaneously. Very on-brand for modern America.
This job is strange. I satirize the country that granted me citizenship while celebrating the freedom to satirize it. That’s America’s genius and madnessthe same country that nearly deported me now pays me to mock it. Only in America, as they say. Only in America.
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MY HOME PAGE: Bohiney Magazine (Aisha Muharrar)
