Recently, a reader contacted me about my blog post entitled Memorial #1: Ansar Mahmood. He was unhappy with a few things about my post: specifically the use of the word "memorial". In addition, he felt I was not doing Ansar justice by putting undue emphasis on his short residency in The U.S.
The entire note is as follows:
"hate to be pedantic... but those definitions are for 'memorial' as an adjective. You're using it as a noun. Mr Mahmood was shamefully treated. But you seem to be talking about him as if he were dead. As far as we know, he's alive and well and living in Pakistan. I just don't think you're doing him justice by talking of him as though his whole life were based on residency in the USA, and now all his promise and potential have been cruelly destroyed. They haven't - they're just happening somewhere else. The loss is America's, not his."
As to his first critique, regarding the use of the word “memorial” I will admit my mistake of using the incorrect "adjective" definition. However, there is nothing inherent within either definition that states the subject of the memorial has to be dead. In fact, the noun definition reflects more closely the actually purpose of the post: to remember the life of an immigrant that was unjustly treated. This is how the Miriam Webster online dictionary defines the noun of memorial:
“1: something that keeps remembrance alive: as a: monument b: something (as a speech or ceremony) that commemorates c: keepsake, memento”
I could have chosen to use the non-descript word of "remembrance" but that has no power behind it. Memorial is a "power word", it gets noticed: simply because it is normally associated with a death and/or a tragedy. Any writer worth his or her salt knows when to use a "power word" to get people's attention. All writers are manipulators of language: some are better at it than others.
In essence, the purpose of my post was to keep the memory of Ansar alive in the collective memory. There are thousands of immigrants being deported from America's shores yearly, each with their own unique story. Each year the numbers of deportations increase. Millions of taxpayer dollars are being funneled into this expensive "cleansing" and the American people have a right to know how this money is being used and to whom it is being used against. Unfortunately, most of these deportations are done secretly and only a handful of individual stories are known, written or talked about. Changes to immigration policy will only occur if people know something is wrong. Our immigration system is clearly broken!
I am attempting to take an abstract concept--deportation--and make it personal. Deportations do not happen to ideologies and concepts: they happen to individual people. Additionally, they do not happen just to the deportee, but to the family, friends and the community at large. To think otherwise is unrealistic. Any immigrant that comes to our country forges close relationships. Once a deported individual is sent away, those ties are oftentimes severed forever.
I never intended to imply that Mr. Mahmood was dead. But there are consequences inherent in becoming labeled a deportee. These consequences can result in actually physical death and/or-- what I refer to-- as "symbolic deaths." Bear with me, I assure you that I can explain.
There are serious ramifications of being deported --even once the person arrives in their country of origin. For instance, in countries like Pakistan, Haiti and many Middle Eastern countries once the individual is escorted off the plane by American DHS officials and handed over to the homeland authorities an even worse situation can unfold. In these countries, the deportee is oftentimes taken into custody, interrogated, abused and oftentimes thrown in prison.
In Haiti, for example, the majority of native deportees suffer from exposure, untreated medical conditions and starvation in Haitian prisons. Amnesty International has pleaded with American leaders to stop the unprecedented deportation of Haitian immigrants because of the gross human rights violations in the prisons there. For most Haitian deportees, being deported from America is a death sentence.
When Khalid is actually deported to India, the DHS officers will handcuff him and escort him off the plane and hand him over to Indian officials. These officials will look at Khalid's passport and see the word "deported" stamped on the first page. A likely scenario will play out in the following way: Khalid will be taken to a locked office within the airport and interrogated about the circumstances involving the deportation. Khalid will relate the long complicated story of his conviction, the fight through the immigration judicial system, his marriage to an American citizen and at the end of the struggle—being deported.
With any luck, maybe the officials will let Khalid go. Unfortunately, many Indian deportees find themselves rotting away in Indian prisons. These unlucky deportees are those who have no family ties in India and therefore no way to pay the extortion fee imposed on them by corrupt Indian officials.
Luckily, Khalid's brother should be in India at this time. His brother secured a 10 year VISA ( a VISA that allows unlimited entrance into the United States ) and commonly travels back and forth between India and the U.S. for training purposes. Hopefully, when Khalid is actually deported his brother will be in India and be able to travel to the prison, pay any fees required and Khalid will be allowed to accompany his brother to the safety of his home. Only then will Khalid be able to pick up the pieces of his life and start anew. For some Indian deportees the scenario is not so easy.
In conclusion, I was not trying to over-emphasize Mr. Mahmood's brief residency in the United States. I will not contradict the fact that many deportees can live happy, productive lives outside of American borders. People can live a good life in various countries all over the world. Despite myths propagated to the contrary, America does not corner the market on happiness, liberty and freedom. In fact, a recent study compared the relative happiness and contentment of citizens from various countries around the world, Americans ranked well behind individuals from Scandinavian countries. I will leave it to the reader to discern why, but it’s an interesting illumination none-the-less.
Ansar, like so many poor immigrants from unstable countries, wanted desperately to come here. He dreamed of arriving in this "land of opportunity". From his meager capital he obtained a green card and came to America. He secured employment and was even able to send some money back to his relatives. By all accounts, he thrived in his new environment and was content. It is not a stretch to say that his quality of life was significantly better here than in Pakistan.
That is why immigrants risk everything to come here. It is not my aim, in this particular post, to debate whether this naiveté and optimism is justified or whether it lives up to the hype. That is a subject for a subsequent post. It is only necessary to illuminate that America is the beacon of hope and prosperity for millions of downtrodden people across the globe.
Ansar came to America in the hopes of finding a better, more stable and productive life. However, when he was deported all this was destroyed. What he experienced was a "symbolic death" that is no less devastating. His hopes, aspirations, relationships and sense of security all “died” the day he was put on the plane to return him to Pakistan.
I do not believe that Ansar would take offense to my "memorial" I feel the only way that I can do justice to Ansar is to make sure that he is remembered. Indeed, the deportation of a good hardworking man like Ansar is a great loss to America. But to downplay the devastation of deportation is doing a gross injustice to the memory-- indeed to the living, breathing individual known as Ansar Mahmood-- and to the thousands of people whose lives are destroyed by deportation every year.
To think that Ansar, or any deportee, can return to his country carefree, unscathed, and simply pick up the where they left off is unadulterated ignorance. It doesn't work that way. I will continue to write about various deportees in my “memorials” to facilitate some empathy and understanding from a public who is largely unaware of their plight. I am giving voice to the voiceless.
There is a madness to my method…er...method to my madness.
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