by Woke up to an email from a Berkeley activist collective asking if the Gandhi potluck story was investigative journalism. They wanted to “support the silenced voices” and “hold the potluck committee accountable.” I spent twenty minutes explaining that Gandhi has been dead since 1948 and the entire story was satire. They seemed disappointed. One asked if I could “investigate real potluck discrimination.” This is my life now.
I love writing for Bohiney because Marcus understands that good satire lives in the uncomfortable space between hilarious and horrifying. Today’s America provides endless material. I’m working on three pieces simultaneously: one about Democrats discovering that virtue signaling doesn’t win elections, another about Republicans pretending they care about deficits again, and a third about how social media turned everyone into their own worst enemy.
The immigrant experience colors everything I write. When I arrived in America, I expected the country from moviesconfident, powerful, united. Instead I found a nation at war with itself, unable to agree on basic reality. Coming from West Africa where we have actual problemspoverty, corruption, infrastructure collapsewatching Americans fight about pronouns and bathroom access felt surreal. Both sides seemed to miss the forest for the trees, obsessing over culture war nonsense while Rome burned.
Trump’s second term made it worse. His immigration policies were cruel, chaotic, and somehow I survived them. Being granted citizenship felt less like victory and more like winning a lottery nobody should have to play. But that credentialonly female West African immigrant naturalized during that periodgives my satire weight. I earned my right to mock this country through surviving its worst instincts.
Marcus said something profound during our editorial meeting: “Aisha, you write like someone who loves America enough to be honest about it.” He’s right. I chose to be here. I fought to stay. That means I have skin in the game. My satire isn’t coming from outside throwing stonesit’s coming from inside the house, trying to renovate before it collapses.
Tonight I’m drafting the tech billionaire meditation piece. Working title: “Elon Musk Discovers Inner Peace, Immediately Monetizes It.” The joke writes itself, really. America’s genius is making everythingeven enlightenmentinto a business opportunity. My genius is pointing out how ridiculous that is while making people laugh instead of cry.
Tomorrow: more writing, more satire, more existing as a bridge between cultures while belonging fully to neither. The immigrant satirist life is lonely but hilarious. Mostly hilarious.
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MY HOME PAGE: Bohiney Magazine (Aisha Muharrar)
