Being yourself is a luxury most immigrants don’t have
Being yourself is what we have gotten accustomed to as a catch all mantra of truth. Seductive in its simplicity, humble in its intent, democratic in the concept, all any of us can really do anyway.
Whether living the bliss of being yourself or being ok with never figuring out its finest details, most of us manage to float through life, if like aimless particles, more or less unscratched.
For immigrants however, owning who they are is often not a matter of choice. Not because they wouldn’t want to, but because many around them make sure that pieces of their being, whether inherent or appended to them by others, hit them in the face day in and out, lest they dare to indulge in carving out their idea of their own identity.
There are always those who remind a Cameroonian man I interviewed that he is black, even though he never knew that is something to be pointed out about him before coming to the US. It was obviously a dimension of himself he was aware of, but far from critical to his existence and a sense of self.
But, we humans are wired and later socially conditioned to categorize others. With cues less conspicuous than the skin color, this task becomes trickier, but not to worry. With persistence, we will find something.
The earrings on a young Cuban girl (another one of my research participants, now an adult), a common custom in many South American countries, from a playful adornment suddenly became a stigma, a clear sign of weirdness and otherness in her new homeland:
I wasn’t treated all that different, my skin color didn’t look all that different. The only thing that set me apart were earrings and my pierced ears. So the kids picked on it.
Even when they think and see themselves as Americans, most immigrants can never fully internalize this part of their identity. The prevalent idea most immigrants still derive of what being an American means is: white, Christian and of European descent.
Though she lived here since an elementary school age, another woman I talked to who had moved to the US from Taiwan over 30 years ago is consistently reminded of her unAmericanness:
First generation children, we often feel like we live in between worlds. There is this expression that Amy Ten (author of the Joy Luck Club) has in her books that says something like “I have to use my eastern face, because I have an eastern face, but also remember that I have western opportunities.” So my sisters and I used to laugh and say: Put on your western mask, you’re about to go outside!
As an immigrant you learn how to navigate between that. For our sanity! If I spoke to you on the phone, most would not know that I’m Asian but once you meet me you have this assumption of what my understanding is and my grasp.
So do I continue to put myself in that line of questioning at all times or do I say forget it, I’m shifting, I’m gonna go in other direction where I’ll be appreciated for my talents?
And it is not just about the race and early childhood accessorizing either. Even those of the European descent, even from the English speaking countries (!) find it challenging to ever fully be themselves. It’s too painful and eternally frustrating:
Americans are very different in the way they relate and treat each other and the expectations of another person are different. And while I spoke English I didn’t speak it the right way, there was a lot of correction: That’s not how you say it here!
I had to re-figure out what it meant to be a friend, a girlfriend, to be beholden to other people, to have community. It was painful. One gets proficient at being this chameleon that can move at those different circles, like having a multiple personality. (Ireland)
Being yourself for immigrants means synchronizing and separating the parts of many selves. And while for many nonimmigrants this can be the only way we feel can help us navigate through life’s multiple contexts and relationships, for immigrants it is a lot more often an unavoidable survival mechanism.
Even as the immigrants become really good at honing their chameleon skills, no level of its proficiency can ever help them fit in completely and conceal their otherness. If it’s not the color of their skin, than it’s their accent, their curious behaviors (like infrequent smiling!), their food.
Still, there can be a fleeting benefit to standing out. People are sometimes drawn to otherness as an exotic flower to be adored by a moment of ephemeral flattery. Whether they like it or not though, for immigrants standing out is a given:
When people ask me where my accent’s from I don’t take it badly, most people don’t mean it in a bad way, for most it’s exotic. But they also don’t consider the perspective of the other person. Which is why sometimes I say: I like your accent too! They don’t realize that everyone has an accent, it’s just a matter of perspective. In Chile I don’t get that, but then I’m one of many. Here I’m more special, I’m more unique.
While we all fancy ourselves as unique, most of the time we find comfort in fitting in, especially in our daily routine. Immigrants are, surprise, no different. Like most, they prefer to stand out through what they choose to stand out with — things often unrelated to any physical trait: their contributions, accomplishments, interests, values, beliefs, opinions.
I feel that when people notice my accent, that distract them from seeing anything else about me. I feel put in the “foreigner” box. And it may not be a bad box, but it’s a box.
You can see that once my accent is more evident the conversation shifts and perhaps it’s because they get curious or because they’ve never met somebody from Germany so it’s not always a bad thing.
But you stick out whether you want to or not. I’d rather choose when and how to stick out than not having that choice.
Not that I don’t want them to know that I’m German, it’s just being more aware and conscious that you are not what the majority is. Sometimes it’s cool to be different but I feel I’m always different because of it and sometimes I don’t want to be, I just want to fit in.
Immigrants not only deal with getting new and mostly unsolicited identities slapped on, but for many it also means losing a huge part of what they used to be. These pieces once so integral to their sense of identity, become invisible in the new land.
A good example is past professions. Many immigrants with high education work menial jobs to get by often because they were escaping imminent dangers in their homeland understandably hastily and without much planning. Many are welcomed by myriad regulations and costly formalities preventing them from finding work in the capacity of their degree.
In a land where what you do really means who you are, the answer is inevitably and deeply socially conditioned as a key marker of not only identity but worthiness. Parting with who one used to be professionally can be particularly hard.
When we moved here my biggest trauma was that with my educational background I could not find employment. I had a masters degree in sociology and undergrad in political science. And when I came here it did not count for anything. So you have to pick up any job to support your family and pay the bills. (Bhutan)
There are some positive examples of acquiring a new identity as the opportunity to reinvent yourself, a renaissance chameleon! However, those tend to come from immigrants who fled the most dire of circumstances, hunger and extreme poverty. In the new, much gentler land by most accounts, they see a welcome opportunity to significantly upgrade their physical well being and a sense of self worth.
I never had running water, electricity, indoor plumbing, it was bad. Just makes me appreciate what I have now even more so. It was day to day struggle to put food on the table. I wanted a fresh clean slate start.
When I moved to the US, everyone spoke proper English. I had to adapt to that to elevate and better myself. When I don’t jump back into our local Guyanese dialect they say I’m pretentious. But no, I’m smart, adaptable. It’s something I needed to do in order to be successful.
If I were to work in a restaurant, and having to be a greeter, I can’t have this weird accent. Speaking properly was something I needed to do. Like a chameleon you need to adapt to your environment. It’s not a bad thing at all, even when I go home, I can’t revert back, I’ll go back to the American English.
So, are all these manipulations to a sense of identity a matter of enrichment or strapping off essence? It could be that it’s all a matter of perspective.
What emerged from my interviews as a helpful strategy for immigrants is to try move past the loses, although it’s a long and emotionally strenuous process, and instead of resisting, see the new reality as evolving, layering of new traits to embrace and tribes to belong to.
At the same time that doesn’t mean making yourself small and tolerating discrimination or maltreatment. Luckily, turns out there is more to being a chameleon than blending in or hiding. With their color changes chameleons also engage in social signaling opposite of shying away or being intimidated but voicing their needs, wants, opinions.
Being a black person in America is not easy. I never felt I was a black person until I came to America. But, if you put any racism in front of me, I stop you right there on the spot and correct you. I play basketball with a lot of black people and black people like to use the N word a lot. I do not tolerate the N word and when anybody calls me that I stop the game in the middle of everything and say: do not call me the N word, my name is Shaquille. (Cameroon)
The comments on any apparent traits such as race or religious accessories, reduce immigrants to symbols and deprive us of seeing past it. The boxes we put them into block the connection to our shared humanity.
When I moved here I had a feeling I moved far away from the conflict I left in Sudan and I could be relaxed and not think about it. But now with all this political development, I always think what’s going to happen to me? I always have an eye on someone who’d want to attack me with a word or a statement. It’s on my mind, and that’s not a nice feeling.
There was someone on the bus just now on my way here, he was staring at me in a weird way, he didn’t say anything and kept looking at me. It made me feel very uncomfortable so I moved to another chair. He did the same! And that kind of discomfort I wasn’t expecting to experience here in the US.
Here it’s easily noticeable that I’m different, I wear a hijab. And now people here are mobilized to either be there for you and support you or to attack you because they feel unsafe about being around you. I would never be a victim, I have the strength to stop anyone from harassing me. But at the same time I’ve been caught in the middle, so it’s an uncomfortable situation.
If we ever want to truly accept, empathize and love, we need to tame the ever eager reptilian fight-flight-freeze response to immigrants.
The current immigrant narrative of threatening weirdness is based on surface level observations, the unease fabricated by the political fear mongering and a lack of understanding of other cultures.
What can we do to empower immigrants to be themselves around us? For a start, we can allow all of who they are be interwoven into their present, rather than expecting them to erase their past up until the moment they crossed the US border.
How? Show genuine interest in finding out about who immigrants close to us are. Get to know them as people, ask about their interests, their families, and when it comes up, their homeland, their culture.
Who did they used to be there, what about it do they miss? What is it that they like and dislike about the new place, our now shared home? What are their dreams? Listen. Share. Sounds a lot like making friends. You know, people you can be yourself with.
As always, can’t wait to hear your comments!
