“‘There is more than one kind of freedom… Freedom to and freedom from. In the days of anarchy, it was freedom to. Now you are being given freedom from. Don’t underrate it.'”
– Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale
Freedom to versus freedom from. An idea posed almost 40 years ago now in Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale, and yet one which is only gaining more relevance in each year that passes. She paints a picture of a ‘dystopian future’, often labeled as ‘sci-fi’, in which women supposedly receive ‘freedom’ from sexism, are given ‘a purpose’, become ‘useful’ in society, only to in reality be stripped of all of their rights, their bodily autonomy, their safety, their sense of self.**
I’ve thought often of this freedom to vs. freedom from concept since moving to Norway. The US seems to be raging on women’s bodies, trans bodies, now more than ever. Endless laws dictating access to the most basic of healthcare, access to contraceptives, access to abortions, access to tubal ligations and other reproductive procedures, access to comprehensive sex education, even access to history and literature. And perhaps the saddest thing is that it no longer surprises or shocks me. I have come to expect it from rich, entitled men in power. I have come to expect it from the South- my time living there, witnessing the well-worn trenches of belief and prejudice, being more eye-opening than I ever could have imagined. These are blanket statements, of course, with so many non-conformers caught in the crossfires. But the outcomes, the dictates, remain the same.
I would be lying if I said the political climate in the States leading up to 2020 wasn’t a large part of my decision to leave. Or perhaps it is better stated to say, the nudge that tipped me over the edge. Still, Norway, in the tiny country that it is, holds an abundance of freedom from. I experience freedom from choice daily, in limited clothing options, limited groceries, limited opening hours of stores and cafes. ‘Rode Dager’, or Red Days, in which almost the entire country closes down- the shops, the grocery stores, the libraries and many cafes, with public transport operating on limiting hours. Paying excessive VAT (import tax) on anything sent from outside the country, even within the EU and Scandinavia. Extensive federally-controlled monopolies resulting in only two or three grocery store chains, one chain of wine/liquor store (literally called ‘Vinmonopolet’ or The Wine Monopoly), limited brands of toiletries and beauty products, only three brands of milk.
But despite all of these limits, I always have the freedom to my own body. Women’s right to choose is a basic right here. Abortions are available in public clinics, or women have a choice to take the abortion pill. In addition to this access, the costs of such are covered through yearly taxes, in addition to the taxes covering other healthcare and emergency healthcare services, free education from birth, free pregnancy care, free public university, five years of free daycare services for all children, and 12 months of maternity AND paternity leave for each pregnancy, adoption, and/or foster child. Gay rights and trans rights are also basic rights here, with universal gay marriage being established in 2009.
I have no intentions of being in a position to need access to an abortion. Nor do I intend to have children, take advantage of maternity leave, or send children to university. The fact that these laws may or may not apply to me at any given time is beside the point. I vehemently support them all the same, and I will gladly pay my tax dollars towards such. Control over one’s own body should be a basic human right, not something to be fought for tooth and nail.
And there are other freedoms from that I regularly enjoy here in Norway. The freedom from being cat-called, for instance. A phenomena I experienced, usually, over 5 times a day in Milwaukee, whether walking my dog, driving, biking, crossing the street to work… or in other words, anywhere and everywhere. I was far from immune in Asheville, either. But here in Oslo, I can’t think of a single instance. There are two times I can distinctly recall while walking with my partner, before I had learned Norwegian, in which men had called something to me, specifically, as we walked past. As soon as they were out of earshot, I asked my partner what they had said, and he replied with distaste that they had tried to sell me drugs. A wave of relief washed over me each time. Being offered drugs was nothing- my body remained safe, uncommented upon, unviolated.
This is not to say I have never felt unsafe here, or been made to feel uncomfortable. Norway is far from a utopia. Sexism, violence, and power dynamics are universal. But my instances of such here are rare; so rare it is easy to take for granted. And in a city of close to 700,000 people, small to some but larger than anywhere else I have lived, that is saying a lot.
It all comes down to a trade, just as with any decision. There are so many beautiful and amazing things I miss about the States. Never having been very patriotic prior to leaving, this continues to surprise and also disconcert me. But despite its many flaws, the US has so many exquisite qualities. I long for the tables upon tables of fresh, locally grown produce at the farmer’s markets that I could walk to each weekend, abundant with color and warmth. Grocery stores with almost any product I could dream of, with cashiers I chatted with and knew by name. The ability to find meaningful, local work without the need to be fluent in a language different than my mother tongue. All immense privileges.
I have given up so much in my move to Norway- in many cases more than I ever imagined or bargained for. But I have gained much as well. My freedom to live alone traded for the freedom from gun violence and mass shootings. My freedom to access limitless food options for the freedom to feel safe in my own body. The freedom to drive anywhere I wanted at all hours of the day for the freedom from a gasoline footprint. Luxury for safety. Struggle now for the hope of greater happiness later. A trade. Always a trade.
And perhaps someday, in many years to come, I’ll live in the States again. Or perhaps not. We can never say what our futures will hold. In the meantime, I hear my partner’s endearing refrain to me like a mantra: Be the change you want to see in Norway. And so I will. Day by day, step by step, I will simultaneously conform to and challenge the norms. I will continue to smile at strangers. I will continue to make conversation with the baristas I order my coffees from. I will continue to be a coffee snob, seek out spicy food, wear my styles of clothing from a former life. And I will continue to practice gratitude for all I have gained here, remembering that freedoms should never be taken for granted.
**Atwood, Margaret, 1939-. The Handmaid’s Tale. Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1985.
A Mermaid Out of Water 