These are the musings of me, a wife of an Indian/Muslim immigrant who has been given a mandate of deportation by the U.S. government. Currently, we are still living together, safe, in New York..but we are unsure how long this will last. The truth is, my husband could be ripped out of my arms any time and stoically deposited-- like some unpleasant trash-- on the shores of a country he hasn't stepped foot in for over 25 years.
It is my hope, that through the recording of my thoughts, anxieties, hopes and disappointments that I put a human face on a contemporary American tragedy. The public needs to know how dysfunctional the immigration judicial system is and how it negatively affects immigrants as well as the millions of American citizens who depend and love them. This is a nightmare that effects Americans and immigrants equally but has been hidden from the public. I plan on changing that.
Who am I? I am a 41 year old Caucasian woman--imperfect, terminally naive, emotional and creative. I am tall, heavy-set and look and act young for my age--which is a rare source of pride for me--I feel having a young attitude is essential for living a fulfilling life. In truth--I am not anyone special but have been thrust into extraordinary circumstances.
I have always suspected that human beings are tested by seemingly insurmountable challenges in their lives--not just once, but multiple times. These challenges are meant to strengthen us--but only if we meet them head-on, follow our guts and break out of the narrowly defined molds we have created for ourselves. If we approach a challenge with our usual entrenched beliefs and outdated actions we will fail to meet and vanquish it. On some higher level I sense I am being challenged, not only to mature, fend for myself and stand up for my beliefs but also to question my culturally conditioned ideas--about morality, justice and power.
Wallowing in self-pity, and fears of bad karma and victim-hood are of scant help. Unfortunately, I have wallowed in every negative emotion since I was first aware of my husband's immigration nightmare --this has been my shame--and I fear--an affront to the strength, integrity and kindness I witness in my husband daily. It is a mystery to me how my husband has dealt with this catastrophe these past nine years with optimism and grace. I fail in this miserably and am intermittently immersed in anger, doubt, and anguish that wallows up occasionally in the cracks of my optimism. I try very hard not to show my anxiety to my husband and thus add to his substantial burdens, but it is very difficult due to my highly developed imagination.
As a child, I was very imaginative and creative. I was a daydreamer and an idealist. Still are-- for the most part. I was brought up as an only child in the relative comfort of a middle class upbringing. My father was a high school teacher in a suburban district and my Mom was a secretary/typist on and off. Money was an issue for the first few years of my life but as my father continued teaching in the same institution his salary increased. In school, I excelled in artistic endeavors and loved to read and my grades were adequate despite the fact that I seldom studied.
I was extremely shy-- so much so that I actually won a "Silence is Golden" award in sixth grade. I had a few close friends but never felt the need to surround myself with endless banter and small talk. I preferred riding the whims of my own mind in words and pictures. If I did talk it was only when I had something important to say. This is still true. The fact is, my up-bringing was normal. There were never any great hardships nor tragedies in my life. I had a stable family life. Any hints at the precariousness of my future were missing.
I dated a bit but none of the men I dated felt like a good fit for me--until I met Khal at age 38--in 2005. We were immediately drawn together. There resided in Khalid a tender heart,--an integrity and quiet strength that appealed to me--specifically because I did not see any of these desirable traits in any of the other men I had previously dated. He was steadfast, calm, obviously intelligent and educated, incredibly handsome and appealingly mysterious. He spoke and wrote perfect English, (which could not be said for the other men I had dated.) and I had assumed he was an America citizen by the way he carried himself and the absence of an accent. I fell in love with him immediately and felt the same depth of feeling emanating from him. He was the first man I fell deeply in love with...and the last. We were looking forward to a great future.
It is my hope, that through the recording of my thoughts, anxieties, hopes and disappointments that I put a human face on a contemporary American tragedy. The public needs to know how dysfunctional the immigration judicial system is and how it negatively affects immigrants as well as the millions of American citizens who depend and love them. This is a nightmare that effects Americans and immigrants equally but has been hidden from the public. I plan on changing that.
Who am I? I am a 41 year old Caucasian woman--imperfect, terminally naive, emotional and creative. I am tall, heavy-set and look and act young for my age--which is a rare source of pride for me--I feel having a young attitude is essential for living a fulfilling life. In truth--I am not anyone special but have been thrust into extraordinary circumstances.
I have always suspected that human beings are tested by seemingly insurmountable challenges in their lives--not just once, but multiple times. These challenges are meant to strengthen us--but only if we meet them head-on, follow our guts and break out of the narrowly defined molds we have created for ourselves. If we approach a challenge with our usual entrenched beliefs and outdated actions we will fail to meet and vanquish it. On some higher level I sense I am being challenged, not only to mature, fend for myself and stand up for my beliefs but also to question my culturally conditioned ideas--about morality, justice and power.
Wallowing in self-pity, and fears of bad karma and victim-hood are of scant help. Unfortunately, I have wallowed in every negative emotion since I was first aware of my husband's immigration nightmare --this has been my shame--and I fear--an affront to the strength, integrity and kindness I witness in my husband daily. It is a mystery to me how my husband has dealt with this catastrophe these past nine years with optimism and grace. I fail in this miserably and am intermittently immersed in anger, doubt, and anguish that wallows up occasionally in the cracks of my optimism. I try very hard not to show my anxiety to my husband and thus add to his substantial burdens, but it is very difficult due to my highly developed imagination.
As a child, I was very imaginative and creative. I was a daydreamer and an idealist. Still are-- for the most part. I was brought up as an only child in the relative comfort of a middle class upbringing. My father was a high school teacher in a suburban district and my Mom was a secretary/typist on and off. Money was an issue for the first few years of my life but as my father continued teaching in the same institution his salary increased. In school, I excelled in artistic endeavors and loved to read and my grades were adequate despite the fact that I seldom studied.
I was extremely shy-- so much so that I actually won a "Silence is Golden" award in sixth grade. I had a few close friends but never felt the need to surround myself with endless banter and small talk. I preferred riding the whims of my own mind in words and pictures. If I did talk it was only when I had something important to say. This is still true. The fact is, my up-bringing was normal. There were never any great hardships nor tragedies in my life. I had a stable family life. Any hints at the precariousness of my future were missing.
I dated a bit but none of the men I dated felt like a good fit for me--until I met Khal at age 38--in 2005. We were immediately drawn together. There resided in Khalid a tender heart,--an integrity and quiet strength that appealed to me--specifically because I did not see any of these desirable traits in any of the other men I had previously dated. He was steadfast, calm, obviously intelligent and educated, incredibly handsome and appealingly mysterious. He spoke and wrote perfect English, (which could not be said for the other men I had dated.) and I had assumed he was an America citizen by the way he carried himself and the absence of an accent. I fell in love with him immediately and felt the same depth of feeling emanating from him. He was the first man I fell deeply in love with...and the last. We were looking forward to a great future.
1 comment:
So glad that you're writing here!
Giselle
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