My center for scholarship, teaching, and service on issues related to immigration and education. I am an associate professor at Hamline University, where I train English as a Second Language (ESL) teachers. My house speaks to Generation Z. My South American husband and I have three daughters aged 16-19. Ruben left Argentina to pursue the American dream. Between us we have three master’s degrees and one doctoral degree. Our oldest daughters are pursuing careers in biomedical and mechanical engineering. From where I sit on this branch, I can tell you this: Our children are planning to separate.

Brain drain (also known as human capital flight) is the emigration of highly skilled individuals from their home countries during a period of national oppression. Donald Trump has defined an America in which some Gen Zers do not want to live. Following the 2016 election, Canadian universities dubbed the influx of American applicants the “Trump Bump.” We are days away from my kids having their first opportunity to vote. If Trump wins, it could be their last. During a visit to Minnesota, he promised voters that if they elected him into office, “they wouldn’t have to vote again.”

Brain drain is a social phenomenon. This leaves a country with fewer doctors, scientists and researchers. Countries experiencing brain drain lack strong universities, cutting-edge medical treatments and innovative urban planning. These countries are sometimes forever labeled as “developing” countries. In reality, they were developed to benefit a select few. My children spent their formative years watching the Trump oligarchy strengthen itself through a global pandemic.

Brain drain tears families apart. This is the underbelly of the American Dream that is mostly unseen by those who call ourselves Americans. I can only imagine my mother-in-law’s experience when my young husband left Argentina to seek a new life in the United States. He was the first of five siblings to emigrate from Argentina. Early in my career as a high school ESL teacher, new students from countries like Mexico, Iraq, and Thailand worked through their complex emotions in my classroom. They shared stories of relief and heartbreak through journal entries, class conversations, and essay assignments.

My family has lived in Minnesota for so many generations that I have to look through our family records to see when they first boarded the ship to come here. None of my immigrant ancestors were wealthy. They fled countries that did not resemble the future they imagined for themselves. The roots they laid were strengthened by a common ideology that they and I share hundreds of years later: We believe in democracy.

The brain drain is affecting my daughter Eva. He has everything you expect from a child. Independent, innovative and family oriented. Ironically, Dad got used to the idea of ​​moving to Quebec, where my ancestors lived as loggers before migrating to Minnesota. He is learning the language he heard at his grandfather’s house but never learned to speak. On a recent visit to Concordia University in Montreal, we toured the campus with a group of prospective American students. The tour guide assured them that they could pursue citizenship after graduation.

While my daughter waits for her Canadian student visa, I feel the pain of the generations before me who worked hard to make this place their home. The generation most at risk from Donald Trump taking office will not be able to watch their grandchildren leave. The exodus of young Americans continues, and I fear this tide is being overlooked.

Michelle Benegas, Ph.D., is an associate professor at Hamline University. St. A former high school teacher in St. Paul, she now prepares English teachers to meet the needs of linguistically diverse students. His books include “Teacher Leadership for Schoolwide English Learning” (TESOL Press, 2020) and “Language of Identity, Language of Access” (LILA): “Emancipatory Learning in Multilingual Classrooms” (Corwin, 2024).