A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood
THE FXBG ADVANCE THURSDAY 6/9/26 AFTERNOON READ
By Yam Munah, ADVANCE CONTRIBUTOR
There’s a possible white nationalist who goes for walks in my neighborhood every morning. Why do I think he may be a white nationalist? His “Appeal to Heaven” flag, for one thing. And the sign on the back of his truck says “Charlie Kirk is a martyr.
I’ve been noticing these sorts of things more lately since reading Tim Synder’s On Tyranny. In it, he urges his readers to do things like make eye contact and small talk with those around them, not only to un-silo ourselves, but also as a psychological stress test to see who will and who won’t meet your gaze.
So naturally, whenever we run into one another I greet my neighbor enthusiastically with a big smile, happy wave, and cheerful “Good Morning!” He doesn’t wear headphones, so I know he hears me, though he never responds, at least not initially. That’s why I always repeat myself, loudly, much to his chagrin.
He eventually offers a tight lipped, “Morning.”
I want to ask him, “Aren’t you from here?” Because I am. I was born and raised in Virginia, and was taught that we always greet our neighbors. Maybe he’s one of those transplants congesting the roads and electing supervisors who vote for data centers and 150-pump gas stations.
Today, while leaving the house for another 11-hour shift at my summer job, I saw him on the dead-end street in front our houses. He must have seen me, too, because he turned suddenly and made another lap around the cul-de-sac. Unfortunately for him, I needed two trips to load the car, so he had to make yet another lap to avoid me. Then, wouldn’t you know it, my other neighbor hollered a greeting at me, and as she and I exchanged pleasantries, the man needed yet another lap—his fourth—to keep from having to say hello.
If I wasn’t so busy, I might write a short story about a man stuck walking in endless circles for fear of his brown, female, immigrant, overly-cheerful neighbors. What a perfect metaphor. How Kafkaesque, for him.
Unfortunately I don’t have the time these days, but if I did, I think I’d call it, “Your Charlie Kirk Decal Won’t Get You Into Heaven Anymore.”
Otherwise I’m off to work, and wishing everyone the day they karmically deserve.
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Yam Munah is a recently repatriated American and recovering existential migrant, who, in between her day job(s), enjoys writing about the human condition, and having tea with her East German grandmother on her family’s dairy goat farm. You can read more of her work on YAM’S SUBSTACK.
