The Violence of Immigration
By Isaac Cudjoe, CEO at Peace First
Immigration is violent. Please let me explain. I’m talking about the process, not the people. Immigration is an experience of profound transformation and resilience, a journey that redefines the essence of identity and belonging. It’s a process wrapped in the complexities of adapting to a new world while holding onto the threads of one’s heritage.
A few years ago, while filming a documentary on how immigrants and children of immigrants engage with their identities, someone said, “[when] people move away from their countries, either they are looking for something or running from something.” That got me thinking, maybe immigration does more harm than we realize. It’s not just about the physical journey but also about the emotional and psychological conflict that is born when a person leaves home.
In 1998, I was 1 of 5,531 Ghanaians to receive the Diversity Lottery Visa. Yeah, we quite literally won the lottery. We were elated, and it sounds amazing, but the truth is, we were unaware of the full cost of migration. Like countless others, we dreamed of America, enticed by promises of freedom, opportunity, and the chance to escape the challenges of our lives. Yet, in pursuit of those dreams, we left behind parts of our identity, fragments of our humanity intertwined with the soil of a place that belonged to us as we belonged to it.
This journey has demanded sacrifices, compelling me to navigate the complexities of identity, belonging, and resilience. For much of my early life here, the United States felt akin to a private school for which I was never intended to gain admission. The costs — application, tuition, room and board, even a uniform — seemed beyond my reach. A lottery visa became similar to a last-minute scholarship from a private benefactor who remains unseen upon arrival, yet imparts a heavy expectation: You were selected from a vast pool of others in your situation. Don’t let us down.
With that heavy expectation comes the harsh realities of fitting in. The struggle to assimilate in a new country is a silent battle in many immigrant homes. I’d venture as far to say it is one fought in the depths of the immigrant soul, but it rarely bubbles up to the surface enough to hear someone say, “I don’t want, believe, or trust this.” I learned this firsthand while watching my parents navigate what it meant to be in this new place. Their battles with assimilation may have quieted when their work shift ended and they sat in their Toyota Tercel and pushed their Ghanaian cassette tapes in, ushering them into the safety of the sounds of home.
For me, it encompassed the entirety of American culture. The pressure to fit in, to adopt new customs and shed my own, was a relentless force. From changing my diet to altering my wardrobe, each compromise marked a step away from my Ghanaian identity. Yet, assimilation was not the end of my journey. With time, the desire to blend in gave way to a deeper, more profound connection with my roots.
While my experiences unfold within the context of American immigration, they reflect a universal phenomenon experienced by millions around the globe. The United Nations reports that there are over 281 million international migrants worldwide, each navigating their own path through the turbulence of relocation and integration. This global movement of people, driven by a myriad of reasons ranging from conflict and persecution to economic aspirations and the pursuit of education, underscores a common thread of hope and resilience. Yet, it also reveals a shared encounter with the ‘violence’ of immigration.
The violence of immigration lies not just in leaving but also in becoming. It is a process that tests the limits of our resilience, challenges our sense of self, and ultimately, reveals the strength within us. There is strength that blooms from this violence. My stories of immigration are not just tales of pain and loss; they are epics of friendships with Salvadorian mechanics, Nigerian pastors, Congolese teammates, Ethiopian brothers, and the relentless pursuit of dreams across borders. My story, like those of many immigrants, is a testament to the power of perseverance, the beauty of diversity, and the unbreakable bonds of community that transcend borders.
To those navigating the complexities of immigration, understand that our journeys encompasses more than merely moving to a new place. The violence inherent in the process of immigration — emotional, psychological, and cultural — is undeniable. Yet, it is matched, and often surpassed, by the remarkable resilience of those who undertake this journey. The challenges we face may be opportunities to mold and affirm our identities in ways we never imagined. Perhaps it is through these trials that we find our true strength, not by abandoning our roots, but by extending them into new territories, seeking nourishment from both our past and present.
This is a call to action, not just for immigrants and their descendants but for society at large, to recognize the profound internal battles faced by migrants.
It’s an appeal to acknowledge the weight of what migrants carry within them — their hopes, their fears, and their unyielding strength. Let us strive to create more empathetic, supportive communities that recognize the value and humanity of every individual, irrespective of their origin. Together, we can transform the narrative of immigration from one of violence to one of empowerment and collective resilience.
