There are a number of English words that I hate. For obvious reasons, "deportation" is one of those words. I also dislike the words "racism", "misogyny", "war" and "access". I'm sure its obvious why I hate the first three words, However, you are probably stymied by the word "access". Why would someone hate the word access? It's quite simple , I use the word fifty times a week in my job at the library, and can never remember how to spell it. I wrote it three times in this paragraph and spelled it wrong all three times. Thank Heaven's for spell check!
But there's another word that tops my list for the most distasteful -- and that is "shame". Shame and I have an intimate relationship. There was a lot of emphasis on "perfection" in the household I grew up in. There was a clear and distinct "wrong way" to do something and a "right way". This affected every activity from talking to an elder, washing the dishes and mowing the lawn. Something was right or it was wrong. Grey areas did not exist. I was always left guessing as how to do things the "right" way. Some things were easy to figure out, such as: don't hit anyone, don't pull the cat's tail, don't touch the stove, etc. But the "indistincts"-- the situations that are predominantly detached from moral or safety considerations and can be approached in a myriad of creative ways--those are the situations that perplexed me and caused me to feel shame. It also didn't help that the correct ways were always in a state of flux.
On the other hand, my parents seemed to know the absolute correct way to handle these situations and oftentimes I got the impression that I handled them the wrong way. The idea that dominated my household was if one veered even slightly from the true and correct path than disaster was imminent.
I do not think that my household was unusual in this strive for perfection. The idea of perfection and piousness is intricately woven into the fabric of American life. Blame our Puritan beginnings if you need an explanation. However, there is an inherent contradiction to all this perfection seeking. Far too often, this perfection and righteousness is only reserved for certain segments of the population.The wealthy and powerful are exempt from these intrusive and stifling restriction as they are free to exploit, demean and oppress millions of people all over the world, while poor, working class and minority populations are forced to conform to a unrealistic conception of morality and perfection.
I witness my husband struggling to deal with the negative affects of shame because of the immigration nightmare he is immersed in. The excessive conviction, not being familiar with American laws, the time spent in detention, and the deportation mandate are all factors that have caused shame. My husband has dealt with this emotion in a positive manner and has never allowed himself to wallow in self-pity, place blame or get angry.
But shame can work in insidious ways within the human psyche and no mater how constructively you think you are handling it it can become unhealthy. Early on, my husband and I had adapted to this shame by withdrawing: withdrawing from family and friends-- in an attempt to mask it . If we don't talk about, don't admit what’s going on we can forget it. But, it doesn't work this way.
Both my husband and I are extremely private people. Not because we have something to hide, but because that is how we were brought up and how our brains are wired. We are both devote introverts and absolutely abhor being the center of attention. So, its quite ironic that we should both be at the apex of an immigration judicial case that has caused a certain amount of controversy and frustration for the U.S. government. I oftentimes catch myself thinking about how often our names have come up within the bolted doors of Homeland Security, a senator's office or even possibly the Oval office --and shudder. There resides nothing within my -- my husband's personality or lifestyle that should have elicited such attention. Regardless of whether we wanted it or not--deserved it or not, we have the attention of Homeland Security.
Eventually, I grew tired of being rendered mute, frozen in shame and decided to speak about it: at work, at immigration conferences, with friends and with anyone who would listen. I even got over my substantial fear of public speaking and starting talking about it in college classrooms and conferences. In the beginning; my goal was distinct: to educate people about the current wave of xenophobia that is sweeping the nation and obtain some help for my husband.
But recently it has shifted slightly. Although I still want to educate people and encourage people to support immigration reform; while also helping my husband, I also feel the necessity to silence the shame that hovers menacingly in the background of our lives.
According to the U.S. immigration judicial system, the night my husband was threatened in 1993 he should have collapsed passively to the asphalt and let the individuals who menacingly approached him hit and beat and perhaps even kill him. This, in their eyes, would have been the "correct" and "righteous" solution to my husband's situation. This is nonsense. The natural reaction of any human to a life threatening situation is self preservation and individuals thus threatened will find any way to survive.
But, according to the U.S. government, apparently minorities and immigrants aren't granted this right.
But there's another word that tops my list for the most distasteful -- and that is "shame". Shame and I have an intimate relationship. There was a lot of emphasis on "perfection" in the household I grew up in. There was a clear and distinct "wrong way" to do something and a "right way". This affected every activity from talking to an elder, washing the dishes and mowing the lawn. Something was right or it was wrong. Grey areas did not exist. I was always left guessing as how to do things the "right" way. Some things were easy to figure out, such as: don't hit anyone, don't pull the cat's tail, don't touch the stove, etc. But the "indistincts"-- the situations that are predominantly detached from moral or safety considerations and can be approached in a myriad of creative ways--those are the situations that perplexed me and caused me to feel shame. It also didn't help that the correct ways were always in a state of flux.
On the other hand, my parents seemed to know the absolute correct way to handle these situations and oftentimes I got the impression that I handled them the wrong way. The idea that dominated my household was if one veered even slightly from the true and correct path than disaster was imminent.
I do not think that my household was unusual in this strive for perfection. The idea of perfection and piousness is intricately woven into the fabric of American life. Blame our Puritan beginnings if you need an explanation. However, there is an inherent contradiction to all this perfection seeking. Far too often, this perfection and righteousness is only reserved for certain segments of the population.The wealthy and powerful are exempt from these intrusive and stifling restriction as they are free to exploit, demean and oppress millions of people all over the world, while poor, working class and minority populations are forced to conform to a unrealistic conception of morality and perfection.
I witness my husband struggling to deal with the negative affects of shame because of the immigration nightmare he is immersed in. The excessive conviction, not being familiar with American laws, the time spent in detention, and the deportation mandate are all factors that have caused shame. My husband has dealt with this emotion in a positive manner and has never allowed himself to wallow in self-pity, place blame or get angry.
But shame can work in insidious ways within the human psyche and no mater how constructively you think you are handling it it can become unhealthy. Early on, my husband and I had adapted to this shame by withdrawing: withdrawing from family and friends-- in an attempt to mask it . If we don't talk about, don't admit what’s going on we can forget it. But, it doesn't work this way.
Both my husband and I are extremely private people. Not because we have something to hide, but because that is how we were brought up and how our brains are wired. We are both devote introverts and absolutely abhor being the center of attention. So, its quite ironic that we should both be at the apex of an immigration judicial case that has caused a certain amount of controversy and frustration for the U.S. government. I oftentimes catch myself thinking about how often our names have come up within the bolted doors of Homeland Security, a senator's office or even possibly the Oval office --and shudder. There resides nothing within my -- my husband's personality or lifestyle that should have elicited such attention. Regardless of whether we wanted it or not--deserved it or not, we have the attention of Homeland Security.
Eventually, I grew tired of being rendered mute, frozen in shame and decided to speak about it: at work, at immigration conferences, with friends and with anyone who would listen. I even got over my substantial fear of public speaking and starting talking about it in college classrooms and conferences. In the beginning; my goal was distinct: to educate people about the current wave of xenophobia that is sweeping the nation and obtain some help for my husband.
But recently it has shifted slightly. Although I still want to educate people and encourage people to support immigration reform; while also helping my husband, I also feel the necessity to silence the shame that hovers menacingly in the background of our lives.
According to the U.S. immigration judicial system, the night my husband was threatened in 1993 he should have collapsed passively to the asphalt and let the individuals who menacingly approached him hit and beat and perhaps even kill him. This, in their eyes, would have been the "correct" and "righteous" solution to my husband's situation. This is nonsense. The natural reaction of any human to a life threatening situation is self preservation and individuals thus threatened will find any way to survive.
But, according to the U.S. government, apparently minorities and immigrants aren't granted this right.
Should my husband feel ashamed about what he did that night. Shame...no not at all. Maybe regret...but not shame. He did what he needed to do in order to survive. Should the U.S. government feel shame regarding the horrible way they have treated my husband? Absolutely-- without hesitation-- and don't waste a minute.
By the way-- another English word I despise is the word "hypocrisy".
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