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I’m writing this from Sweden, where I’ve been living with my husband and 10 year-old daughter for almost six years.

Those six years ago, I was consulting and was at a crossroads. My husband is Swedish and his father is elderly; he turns 96 this year. We could have stayed in the United States; but sadly, I found it relatively easy to leave. 

I was clear about how capitalism in the U.S. had me, and most of those around me, in trauma mode, with no real safety nets. When I was young, my dad was sick; he had seven heart attacks, the first starting when I was 10. I saw and felt that lack of security over and over. 

The flip side of that coin is that I learned to do a lot of things alone. Figure things out.  Resiliency. A shimmy and hustle. It’s what U.S. folks do. (I know that “American folks” rolls off the tongue easier, but wow, what linguistic privilege and power that we wield every day, claiming all of the Americas: North America including Canada, South America, and Central America? No.)

Moving to a new country has been exciting, stimulating. Sweden is an aesthetically beautiful country. The values in Sweden and Nordic countries in general match my own core values, making it easier to live, to breathe. I walk, bike or take public transportation most places. Universal healthcare. Universal and quality early childhood education. 

I’ve experienced some exhilarating moments. Ice skating on lakes, with six feet of frozen ice underneath me. Learning to cross country ski. Taking improv lessons in Stockholm, biking an hour there and an hour home at 9:30 pm because of the midnight sun.

After we moved to Sweden, I started a company and did the next logical step — I joined a union. I joined because I wanted to learn the normative side of living in a so-called “welfare” state. Joining a union is just what you do here — you join because they can protect you. And I’ve learned that they do help you. 

The safety net here creates a level of calmness.

Not calmness everywhere, and not all the time. Parts of living here are incredibly hard. Building community is a challenge, except with other immigrants and expatriates. Some observe that since the “welfare state” came into being, individuals rely less on community and more on the government to solve challenges. 

There’s racism and xenophobia here. The far right government — the Swedish Democrats, which has ties to the Nazi party — is growing. There are times when I feel low, with less power. In those times, I wonder how much longer I can push, and if there’s an alternative.

But I choose hope; I’m focused on making it work here.

Talking to many women from all around the world who live here, I hear about the Swedish safety net through many different lenses. We all have access to universal early childhood care and education. We all have maternity and paternity leave. Divorce is acceptable; not fully and in all circles, but because of gender equality, most people (largely women) are not forced to stay in abusive or unhealthy relationships for economic reasons.

I see the safety net reflected in friendships. Swedes are relaxed, happier than I experienced myself and others in the U.S. 

This shows up in the World Happiness Report, where people self-report their happiness scores. Consistently, Nordic countries score very high (the World Happiness Report calls it “The Nordic Exceptionalism.” This year out of 143 countries, Finland ranks first, Denmark second, Iceland third, Sweden fourth (the U.S. is twenty-third). 

It also shows up in gender equality. When I did my TEDx talk six years ago, Iceland was ranked first in the world; the U.S. was ranked forty-ninth. Last year, Iceland was first again, with the smallest Global Gender Gap; followed by Norway, Finland, New Zealand and Sweden (the U.S. was forty-third).

This has helped me start to relax a little, to start to feel “safe.” My work in social impact, leadership and gender equality is growing, and there is a safety net if I fall. But after so many decades of conditioning in the hustle, it’s hard to relax. 

I am trying. 

Since the pandemic ended, I’ve noticed that I have stopped playing — I’ve forgotten my sense of humor in general. My 10 year-old daughter noticed it too; when I said to her recently, “I used to play more,” she responded “yeah, I noticed that.”

In the past, people would always say I’m positive and playful. I even used to do spontaneous dances. I would stop someone on the street, in a coffee shop, the gym, a co-working space — and ask them if they would dance with me for one song that they would pick. New Haven, New York, Stockholm. Young people, old people, straight, gay.  

I even got a few hundred up to dance when I won an award last year. In accepting it, I said “Thank you… but instead of talking, I’d rather take the 30 seconds that remain, and for us to get up and dance.” And they did!

So I’m in a moment when I’m working to remember who I am in my work and life in general, and how laughter, joy and play can be a part of it all again.

Learn more about Lauri at her website, Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn

To reach Lauri directly: lauri@lauri.co

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