One evening last fall, after finishing my English classes at
my center, I ran into a man who was waiting for me outside the gates as I left.
“I heard there was an American that worked here. So I was wondering if I could
talk to you” he told me hesitantly in fluent English while handing me a paper
that I could tell he had folded and unfolded over and over again in order to
read it often. I opened the paper, and the first thing I saw was a U.S.
government seal of some sort adorning the top of the official stationary. The
letter was from U.S. Immigration informing him that he had been selected for a
green card to the United States. Thousands of people apply every year for a
U.S. green card, and it is a random selection of who will win the few available
spots. “I won the lottery” he said with a grin, “and I have a lot of questions
about America that I was hoping you could help me understand.”
Since that night, I have remained
in contact with him while he prepares to make the huge move to the United
States, which he is planning to do in August (inshallah). I get regular texts from him ranging from just a simple
“hello, how is your day going?” to questions about English grammar (“why are
cars and boats referred to as female?” Good question my friend… good
question.), American movies (“which superhero do you like the best?”), to him
asking for my advice on just where in
the United States he should move to (imagine making that choice: moving to a
new country without any connections and having to just pick a spot to go). By
winning the green card lottery, he is required to move to the United States
sometime in 2014 before the end of November or he loses the opportunity, he
must have a sponsor to have as a connection wherever he moves in order to help
him get settled, and after five years, he is allowed to apply and receive U.S.
citizenship. He recently made the final decision that he will be moving to Ft.
Wayne, Indiana due to a connection he has with a friend of a friend of his
family (or some other convoluted connection that I didn’t quite catch) that is
willing to sponsor him.
This past weekend, I asked if he wanted
to meet up for a cup of coffee since we hadn’t seen each other in a long time,
and thus far basically just had a friendship based on text messaging (which
gets expensive). I asked him about his plans when he got to the United States,
if he was excited, what he was unsure about, etc. He talked about his plans to
find a job and work on his English a little bit more, then enroll in university
as soon as he could get a social security number. He said he was more nervous
and scared than excited, and his family wasn’t very happy because they were
saying goodbye to him without any idea of when they’ll ever see him again. He
talked about how intimidating it is to be moving to such a powerful country in
the world and how he is stepping into a brand new culture without knowing
anyone. My sitemate and I both laughed a little and told him we definitely
understand that feeling of moving to a new culture without any real idea of
when you’ll see people back home again, although he has the advantage of
knowing the language in advance. He asked us both questions on all possible
topics: “Is it alright if I know nothing about American football?” “How do I
search for a job in America?” “What are the big holidays? When is Christmas
again?” “What is the difference between college and university? How does
financial aid work?” “I read that there is a large German population in
Indiana, should I work on learning German?”
The main feeling I had while
talking to my friend was just an overwhelming sense of how strong and brave he
is for what he’s doing. At least when I left for Morocco I knew after 2 years I
would be coming home. He is leaving with zero idea about when or if he’ll ever
be able to make it back to Morocco, and has next to nobody there to hold his
hand through the process like Peace Corps does for me. But the most humbling
moment of the entire conversation was when I asked him what he was most nervous
about. “I’m scared of facing racism because I’m Muslim.” Every other question
or topic we had discussed I had always been able to explain the realities of
what he would face in America and put his mind to ease. But I had no answer
here. “Yeah… that’s… something that you will face” I had to finally admit. My
heart broke.
In response to this, here is what
I want people in America to know and understand about my friend, and any
immigrant for that matter:
Muslims are NOT the enemy of America. This statement has been said
quite often in the news lately as well in response to the recent release of a
U.S. POW from Afghanistan, and every time I read it, a certain level of fury
boils up inside me that I hadn’t realized was there. Subscribing to a certain
religion does NOT, in ANY way, make you an enemy. To America, to you
personally, to anyone. The enemy that the United States is fighting in various
wars both abroad and at home are the people who are hurting and/or killing
other people. The ones who strap bombs to their chests, who take hostages, who
walk into schools at open fire on small children. Those people are the enemy.
Being Muslim does not mean that you are a terrorist, and being a terrorist does
not mean you are Muslim. Around the world, there are Christians, Muslims, Hindus,
Sikhs, Jews, Buddhists, anyone really, that are blowing things up, killing
people, or fighting wars. Go outside and stop 50 Christians at random on the
street and ask them if they think someone who blows up a building and says it
is in the name of Christianity aligns with their Christian beliefs. They’ll
likely say no, because those are radical outsiders in the religion. The same
goes for the Muslim suicide bombers we hear about. They aren’t the real
representation of Islam, a peaceful, beautiful religion if I’ve ever seen one.
These people are working HARD to be in America, they aren’t trying to
freeload you. My friend already has a degree from a University here in
Morocco, but you might remember I said above that his first goal in the United
States is to get into University. His degree from Morocco isn’t recognized in
America, so he is going to go do it all over again. He’s still in school as I
type this right now, working hard to finish up exams, even though he knows he’s
going to have to do it all over again. He has gone through all legal means to
be in the United States, is working hard to get a job and an education in
America, and wants nothing more than to just be able to be a part of American
society. In my experience before Peace Corps of working with other immigrants,
this is the reality for everyone I met. They are all working their ass’s off to
stay afloat in a difficult economy and culture. They work harder than any born
and raised American I’ve ever met, working jobs many people would never want.
Let’s give them a little bit of respect.
There’s a learning curve to any culture, give them a chance. So my
friend has no idea what the point of baseball is… that’s okay. He’s never
experienced it. Take him to a game, I’ll bet he’d enjoy the chance to spend
some time with a new friend. Maybe he doesn’t understand what the idiom “That
came out of the blue” means. Unless English is your first language, idioms are
really difficult to understand, don’t hold it against him. Just remember that
English is his 4th language, and one of 5 that he speaks. One of the
biggest questions he asked me and my sitemate was about how to find a job in
the United States, or an apartment. In Morocco, you simply go wander around
your community and ask if there are available apartments anywhere, or if you have
any connections to jobs. There are no official listings anywhere, often times
no lease agreements or any official paperwork, and few people have bank
accounts, as it’s an almost exclusively cash based society. I can imagine
transitioning to American standards of everything signed and lawsuit-proofed,
the clock is the ruling power of our world, and all listings for nearly
everything are computerized can be a little overwhelming. Help show him how it’s
done, this is all new territory.
And finally… My friend is so excited to come to America and experience what he sees
as “the greatest country in the world”… don’t ruin that ideal for him. He
see’s America in higher standards than I do. He talks of how he is moving to
the best, most powerful, greatest country and culture in the world. All immigrants
come to America for a reason, and they want to be there. Believe me, if they didn’t,
it would have been a lot easier to have not tried to get there in the first
place, we don’t exactly open the door welcomingly. My biggest fear for my
friend is that he is going to end up arriving in America only to find it’s
exactly what I think it is. So my request to anyone who ever meets someone who
is new to America and working hard to make a life for themselves is this: Give
them a smile, and welcome them. They’re going through a struggle so difficult
you will likely never understand it. They’re working very hard. They’re
learning a new language. They’re adjusting to a new culture. They are adjusting
to new food, work customs, and societal expectations, and they’re doing it all
at the same time. They don’t need the additional strain of racist comments,
doors slammed in their faces, or ignorant coworkers to add to their stress.
Offer to help them out instead, there’s so much for them to learn. America is a country of immigrants, and is built
on the idea that anyone should be able to make it, and everyone has something
to offer if they just work hard enough. In some ways, I think my friend is going
to be a better specimen of what it means to be “American” than any of us are
because of that.
