What Happened When My Travel Ban-Supporting Neighbor Met With Refugees

A story of bigotry, hate, and hope.

I ’ve always liked my neighbor. Ever since I moved to the neighborhood five years ago, we’ve had the ideal neighborly relationship. He’s given me rides to the airport. I’ve brought him soup when he was sick. We’ve exchanged homemade Christmas cookies around the holidays. Even so, we couldn’t disagree more when it comes to our politics and lifestyle. When he comes to my house, I bring him a homegrown kale smoothie sprinkled with fair trade cacao nibs. When I go over to his house, he offers me Rush Limbaugh tea (yes, there is such a thing).

Then Trump became president. Although my neighbor had accepted me, an Iranian-American, as his neighbor, he was fervently anti-immigration (at that point, he was unaware that I had come to the U.S. as a refugee). An imperceptible tension developed between us. Were we avoiding each other? I began wondering what would happen if Trump started a Muslim registry. What if people of Middle Eastern origin were taken to internment camps? Would my neighbor come to defend me as they put me in handcuffs? Or would he look over my direction, shake his head, and keep sweeping his porch?