Dear Customs: I Created #NotOkay And Now You May Not Let Me Back In.

A letter to US Customs

A note to my newsletter subscribers:

Dear Readers and Algorithm Gods,

For those who may not know, back in 2016, I started something called #NotOkay. After that infamous tape of Trump bragging about grabbing women was released, I invited women to share their stories of sexual assault. Within hours, I was receiving thousands of stories per minute, and millions of women ultimately participated. It became the first online movement that showed just how pervasive these experiences are and was a map for the METOO movement. It was a defining moment in our cultural conversation about consent and harassment.

Now, as a writer, director, and reluctant internet person living in America,

I'm writing to you today from my Los Angeles home, which is technically not my home because I'm Canadian, which is technically America's toque. Currently, I'm contemplating American citizenship and not because I particularly want a president or because I've suddenly developed an affinity for imperial measurements, but because, strangely enough, it’s the only safe way to live here. Like a toxic relationship I can't quit, or a reality show I hate watch religiously.

If you find yourself nodding along, please leave a comment. Not because I crave validation (though I do), but because we need the algorithm to push this piece forward so when I'm inevitably detained at customs, when they google me, at least the officer will have something interesting to read while I sit in that little room with no windows.

And now, the letter that will either save me or damn me further:

A Letter to Customs:

Please Let Me Return Home

Dear U.S. Customs and Border Protection Officer,

I'm writing this letter because I've watched enough episodes of "Border Security" to know that eventually, it will be my turn to sit in that little room where the clock ticks twice as loud and everyone pretends the two-way mirror is just regular wall decor. I'd like to preemptively explain myself, since explaining things after the fact rarely works out well for anyone, especially at airports.

You've probably pulled me aside because:

1. I'm Canadian

2. I say things on the internet

3. Some of those things involve your president

Before you stamp any papers with alarming finality, let me make my case.

Who I Am and Why You Should Let Me Back In

I'm Kelly Oxford, writer, director, and reluctant social media personality. I'm known for saying what other people are thinking but have the good sense not to publish. This has worked out surprisingly well for me career-wise, though perhaps not so well for my current border situation.

In 2016, I created a viral social media movement where millions of women shared their stories of harassment and assault. This was not, contrary to what your file might suggest, an anti-American activity. It was simply human beings sharing human experiences, which occasionally happens on the internet between cat videos and sourdough tutorials.

Your administration might view this as criticism. I view it as conversation. The difference matters.

The Curious Case of My Residency

I've spent years in Los Angeles, where people pretend it's normal to drink green juice and discuss traffic patterns as though they're discussing philosophy. I've adapted to life here. I now understand that "hiking" means walking uphill while wearing jeans, and "we should get coffee sometime" means ”I’d rather grab a drink.”

The irony is that I'm more American than many Americans. I've embraced the contradictions: I complain about Los Angeles traffic while contributing to it. I critique capitalism from my iPhone. I roll my eyes at wellness culture while putting collagen in my coffee.

If that's not the American experience, I don't know what is.

Why Keeping Me Out Would Be Counterproductive

Consider the practical implications of denying me entry:

First, detaining a writer gives them material. Is that really what you want? I once wrote three pages about waiting for a prescription at CVS. Imagine what I could do with a customs detention.

Second, my absence would deprive America of tax revenue, and if there's one thing I've learned about America, it's that you folks are serious about collecting taxes—even from people who aren't citizens. That's commitment.

Third, my children would miss me, and children who miss their mothers tend to grow up and write memoirs. No government wants that kind of publicity.

A Reasonable Request

I'm not asking for special treatment, just the normal treatment of being allowed to return to the place where all my stuff is. My furniture. My half-empty bottles of shampoo. My collection of books I intend to read this year. Most are about time travel, maybe by now I’ve figured it out and you won’t see me again.

I promise to continue contributing to society in the ways I know how: by paying too much for bananas, by tipping well, by writing things that make people laugh or think or both simultaneously, which is the best kind of thinking.

In closing, I respectfully submit that I pose no threat to national security, unless you consider slightly sardonic yet optimistic observations about culture threatening, in which case we have fundamentally different definitions of "threat."

I look forward to our brief but memorable interaction at your earliest convenience.

With diplomatic optimism,

Kelly Oxford

*P.S. If you're wondering whether I'm related to the dictionary, I'm not. But I am related to an American man named Oxford who once rode Buffalo across the U.S.A. to Alberta, which is practically Canadian royalty.*