I have been too quiet, and it is my dreams that have convicted me.
In my dream, I was talking to someone about politics.
They said, "It's hard to be in the middle ground these days, huh?"
I felt myself recoil. Middle ground?
"But I'm not in the middle ground," my dream self said. "I've taken sides."
I woke up feeling disturbed, convicted. Am I projecting the image that I occupy the middle ground?
Maybe I did stand there, once. But now, I have come to see that this so-called neutral middle ground is not what many would like to think it is. As I just read in Night by Elie Wiesel:
"We must take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim."
I have been been afraid to take sides. I'm afraid of the backlash. Afraid of what people will think of me. And yet, these are small issues compared to the oppression so many face daily. I should be more afraid that I did not care for the least of these. I should be afraid that I cared more for my reputation than I did for justice.
I've used many excuses to avoid taking sides, and one the biggest is, "But I don't know enough."
What if I post something or say something and then I can't adequately defend or explain my views? I should wait until I've fully researched the issue before I say anything.
But that time never comes. I will never know every detail about every issue. If I waited until I felt like I was an expert on everything, I would never speak up.
Instead, I should speak out and acknowledge that I do not know everything, that I am still learning, that my words and my actions will not be perfect.
I will make mistakes. I already have, in staying silent about the things that matter most.
"Those who kept silent yesterday will remain silent tomorrow." -Elie Wiesel, Night
I cannot be silent any longer, lest I will be silent forever.
So let it be known. I have taken sides, and I endeavor always to be on the side of the oppressed.
Black Lives Matter.
I welcome refugees.
America is stronger because of its immigrants, documented or no.
Undocumented people deserve better, and the US needs immigration reform.
Transgender people deserve equal rights and equal protection.
Homosexuality is not a sin.
I'm a feminist.
Racism is not going away, and ignoring it does not help.
There is a place at the table for people of all religions.
This is by no means an exhaustive list. I hope to spend time reflecting on these issues more in-depth in the coming months. May it challenge me to become a better person, to find my voice, and to follow those words with actions.
Thursday, March 23, 2017
Sunday, November 20, 2016
my dark night of the soul
the dark night of the soul:
"a lengthy and profound absence of light and hope"
"a spiritual crisis in a journey towards union with God"
It began while I was still in Tucson, working at Iskashitaa as a missionary of the United Methodist Church. Worship services started feeling empty to me. I spent my days alongside refugees, consistently aware of the many hardships people faced, but when I went to church, I did not feel any connection to the life I was living. I went to services searching for a recognition of the reality around me, but all I could find were hollow words. I needed something real, and I could not seem to find it.
I stopped going.
I felt my faith changing in other ways, evolving into something I didn't recognize. I pulled back. It scared me. Instead of pressing into the doubts, exploring the new branches in the tree of my faith, I pulled away. I pretended those branches didn't exist. But when I looked to my other branches, the familiar ones, the safe ones, I knew that these were done growing. I had nowhere else to go.
My solution to this problem was to do nothing.
I didn't go to church. I didn't read my Bible. I prayed only if someone sent me a prayer request. I feared it was the end of my faith journey, but on a deeper level I felt it was something different, something more significant. I felt it when I read blog posts by Rachel Held Evans or when I met with Emily for coffee or when I saw my missionary friends' social justice posts. My faith was evolving, but I didn't want to deal with it.
I was angry, and I probably still am, and I feel that most when I read posts meant to be inspirational. "Everything happens for a reason." "God will never give you something you can't handle."
Every time I read words like this, I felt myself roll my eyes and fill with frustration. (Helpful ways to address that, I know.)
Because I wanted, I needed, someone to recognize that life is hard, and this world is a mess. That things happen to people that should never happen to anyone, but that God does not want bad things to happen. That war and murder and torture and abuse exist and they are not tools that God uses for some unknown purpose but rather consequences of free will and the existence of evil, and that God mourns these things with us and expects us to be agents of change in an unjust world.
But I did not have that recognition at my fingertips, and I was too weary to go looking. It was easier to be aloof or to be angry, whichever I felt inclined toward on whichever day. It was easier to slip away, little by little.
I found myself in the dark night of the soul. I imagine it, sometimes, as an invitation to step literally into the dark night. Instead of accepting the invitation, and pushing forward, I panicked. I started to turn on artificial lights for myself. Distractions to make me feel safe in the dark. Work was a convenient distraction since it took up most of my time. It gave me a tangible reason for why I wasn't going to church anymore. Then I didn't have to talk about my doubts, my changing faith, my anger, or my fear.
Yet in the midst of my distractions, I have been yearning for the stars. Wondering, if I stepped out into the darkness, would I find those stars? But I've been too afraid to turn off my artificial lights. What if I turned them off and the stars weren't there after all? What if I take away all my distractions and God isn't really there? Then what?
In the aftermath of Trump's election, my uncertainty is greater than ever. I fear that the dark night is about to get far darker. But I also know that I cannot let the fear stop me from putting my whole heart and my whole self into the pursuit of justice. If ever there was a time to step forward, it is now.
I saw this quote on a friend's facebook and it resonated with me:
"a lengthy and profound absence of light and hope"
"a spiritual crisis in a journey towards union with God"
It began while I was still in Tucson, working at Iskashitaa as a missionary of the United Methodist Church. Worship services started feeling empty to me. I spent my days alongside refugees, consistently aware of the many hardships people faced, but when I went to church, I did not feel any connection to the life I was living. I went to services searching for a recognition of the reality around me, but all I could find were hollow words. I needed something real, and I could not seem to find it.
I stopped going.
I felt my faith changing in other ways, evolving into something I didn't recognize. I pulled back. It scared me. Instead of pressing into the doubts, exploring the new branches in the tree of my faith, I pulled away. I pretended those branches didn't exist. But when I looked to my other branches, the familiar ones, the safe ones, I knew that these were done growing. I had nowhere else to go.
My solution to this problem was to do nothing.
I didn't go to church. I didn't read my Bible. I prayed only if someone sent me a prayer request. I feared it was the end of my faith journey, but on a deeper level I felt it was something different, something more significant. I felt it when I read blog posts by Rachel Held Evans or when I met with Emily for coffee or when I saw my missionary friends' social justice posts. My faith was evolving, but I didn't want to deal with it.
I was angry, and I probably still am, and I feel that most when I read posts meant to be inspirational. "Everything happens for a reason." "God will never give you something you can't handle."
Every time I read words like this, I felt myself roll my eyes and fill with frustration. (Helpful ways to address that, I know.)
Because I wanted, I needed, someone to recognize that life is hard, and this world is a mess. That things happen to people that should never happen to anyone, but that God does not want bad things to happen. That war and murder and torture and abuse exist and they are not tools that God uses for some unknown purpose but rather consequences of free will and the existence of evil, and that God mourns these things with us and expects us to be agents of change in an unjust world.
But I did not have that recognition at my fingertips, and I was too weary to go looking. It was easier to be aloof or to be angry, whichever I felt inclined toward on whichever day. It was easier to slip away, little by little.
I found myself in the dark night of the soul. I imagine it, sometimes, as an invitation to step literally into the dark night. Instead of accepting the invitation, and pushing forward, I panicked. I started to turn on artificial lights for myself. Distractions to make me feel safe in the dark. Work was a convenient distraction since it took up most of my time. It gave me a tangible reason for why I wasn't going to church anymore. Then I didn't have to talk about my doubts, my changing faith, my anger, or my fear.
Yet in the midst of my distractions, I have been yearning for the stars. Wondering, if I stepped out into the darkness, would I find those stars? But I've been too afraid to turn off my artificial lights. What if I turned them off and the stars weren't there after all? What if I take away all my distractions and God isn't really there? Then what?
In the aftermath of Trump's election, my uncertainty is greater than ever. I fear that the dark night is about to get far darker. But I also know that I cannot let the fear stop me from putting my whole heart and my whole self into the pursuit of justice. If ever there was a time to step forward, it is now.
I saw this quote on a friend's facebook and it resonated with me:
Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief.
Do justly, now.
Love mercy, now.
Walk humbly, now.
You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.I am clinging to these wise words, to the example of the many prophets and activists I am honored to know, and to the sliver of God I can still feel despite this seemingly all-encompassing darkness.
Monday, September 19, 2016
when I don't feel enough
Though I've been planning to come to Taiwan for over a year, it didn't feel real until I reached the gate for my flight to Taipei. Among the many feelings we experience during major changes, I think this is a typical one, particularly when we don't know what to expect.
Stress levels were high when I first arrived. Should I take a bus or a taxi to my hotel? How would I go about doing that? Would there be a place for me to put my luggage at the hotel since it was too early for check-in? What would I do during the 8 hours before my check-in time?
How do I use the metro system? How does the bus system work? (Still haven't figured that one out, to be honest)
How do I finish the paperwork needed after arrival? Where do I go and what do I need to bring? How do I open the post office savings account? What do I do if I don't have a name stamp?
What's expected of me when I come into a store or restaurant? What if I accidentally offend someone through some cultural unknown?
And the list goes on.
I try to avoid letting potential stressors pile up by continually reminding myself, one step at a time. I focus on the challenge immediately at hand rather than thinking about the next 10 things I'll need to figure out.
Despite that strategy, my first few days here were very difficult. It's daunting to face so many unknowns at once. I dearly wanted to return to somewhere familiar, somewhere comfortable, somewhere I understood. I'm someone who gets anxious about navigating a new city in English, in the US. So what made me think I can do it in another language, another country?
Whenever this thought comes up, I try to dismiss it, reminding myself that people do this every day, all over the world, and I can do it, too. It might not be easy or quick, but I will figure it out.
Typically, when I'm in a place I don't know well, my go-to tactic is to try to blend in by acting like I know exactly where I'm going and exactly what I'm doing. Yet when that inclination surfaces here, I think...It's obvious to everyone that I'm not from around here. It's clearly no secret.
It's a vulnerable feeling when I'm trying to figure something out, like when I try to find an address but I don't understand the lanes and alleys. It's an embarrassing feeling at times, like when I went into a cell phone store and walked up to the counter without realizing I needed to take a number first.
Though I'm getting more comfortable, it's often still stressful and it can be frustrating. Sometimes I feel so overwhelmed and ill-prepared, like I jumped out of the airplane without checking my parachute first. I don't feel strong enough to do this. I don't feel brave enough, outgoing enough, anything enough. But I tell myself that I can do it and I have been doing it. I remind myself that I am growing, and learning, and if I am disappointed in today, I can try again tomorrow. I remember that I am building my life on doing things I once didn't believe myself capable of.
Because I hope and believe this experience could make me a better person, and despite the challenges there is truly no place I'd rather be.
Stress levels were high when I first arrived. Should I take a bus or a taxi to my hotel? How would I go about doing that? Would there be a place for me to put my luggage at the hotel since it was too early for check-in? What would I do during the 8 hours before my check-in time?
How do I use the metro system? How does the bus system work? (Still haven't figured that one out, to be honest)
How do I finish the paperwork needed after arrival? Where do I go and what do I need to bring? How do I open the post office savings account? What do I do if I don't have a name stamp?
What's expected of me when I come into a store or restaurant? What if I accidentally offend someone through some cultural unknown?
And the list goes on.
I try to avoid letting potential stressors pile up by continually reminding myself, one step at a time. I focus on the challenge immediately at hand rather than thinking about the next 10 things I'll need to figure out.
Despite that strategy, my first few days here were very difficult. It's daunting to face so many unknowns at once. I dearly wanted to return to somewhere familiar, somewhere comfortable, somewhere I understood. I'm someone who gets anxious about navigating a new city in English, in the US. So what made me think I can do it in another language, another country?
Whenever this thought comes up, I try to dismiss it, reminding myself that people do this every day, all over the world, and I can do it, too. It might not be easy or quick, but I will figure it out.
Typically, when I'm in a place I don't know well, my go-to tactic is to try to blend in by acting like I know exactly where I'm going and exactly what I'm doing. Yet when that inclination surfaces here, I think...It's obvious to everyone that I'm not from around here. It's clearly no secret.
It's a vulnerable feeling when I'm trying to figure something out, like when I try to find an address but I don't understand the lanes and alleys. It's an embarrassing feeling at times, like when I went into a cell phone store and walked up to the counter without realizing I needed to take a number first.
Though I'm getting more comfortable, it's often still stressful and it can be frustrating. Sometimes I feel so overwhelmed and ill-prepared, like I jumped out of the airplane without checking my parachute first. I don't feel strong enough to do this. I don't feel brave enough, outgoing enough, anything enough. But I tell myself that I can do it and I have been doing it. I remind myself that I am growing, and learning, and if I am disappointed in today, I can try again tomorrow. I remember that I am building my life on doing things I once didn't believe myself capable of.
Because I hope and believe this experience could make me a better person, and despite the challenges there is truly no place I'd rather be.
Thursday, September 8, 2016
Taipei: Initial Culture Shock
I've been in Taipei just over a week, so I've gathered up a good number of external culture differences to share here:
That's all for now! Here are a few more pictures:
- Scooters! They are everywhere. Zooming around on roads and sometimes sidewalks, parked along sidewalks (in an orderly fashion).
My favorite scooter sight so far was during the rain, when all the riders were suddenly wearing ponchos.
Note the scooters on the right side of the street - An obvious one, the language. Many things are also printed in English, but not everything. The other night I had some ramen for dinner, but since I couldn't read the instructions (and don't eat ramen much at home) I just guessed at how much water I should put in.
- Time difference. Being 12 hours ahead is so strange! In the morning, I'm seeing posts on social media about people being out and about at concerts, out to dinner, etc...and I'm just waking up...and it's the next day! Then, at night, when my day is almost done, everyone I know at home is just waking up and starting their day.
- Keycard lighting. This is probably a hotel thing, and it's something I remember from China now, too, but in your hotel room, the lights and AC don't come on unless you have your key card in the slot.
Low quality pic of the keycard slot by my bed - There is a correct way to use escalators: anyone who is not moving stands on the right, and anyone who wants to walk up the escalator uses the left. Note, I spend I lot of time on escalators because of the metro system. Minimum 6 per day.
- You can open a savings account at the post office. I haven't opened one yet.
- Specialized shops. We don't have much of this in the US - the only similar one I can really think of are shoe stores. Even when we have a specialized shop, the specialization is still pretty broad. Here, you can walk by a shop that sells one item exclusively and extensively. For example: umbrellas, containers, cords, welcome mats, purses, phone cases, strings of lights - each of these have their own individual shop.
- Most people don't know where Michigan is. I've already been asked if Michigan is in Indiana, or if Michigan is a city.
- Purchases aren't often bagged at convenience stores and supermarkets. This was also a thing in China, though you could get a bag if you paid for it. It seems like they only offer bags for larger purchases, and they always ask first. Most of the plastic bags I see here are for people carrying food.
- I thought I heard an ice cream truck the other day. Turns out, it's actually the trash truck. It drives around playing this melody on repeat. For 20 seconds of the trash truck song, click the video below!
- In McDonald's (yes, I've already been there...don't judge me too hard) when I put my tray away, there was an elaborate (by US standards) system for anything that might be left on your plate:
food waste, liquid waste, cup recycling, general recycling, trays, trash. Personally, I think it's awesome! - I sometimes see people wearing surgical masks. Based on a conversation with a woman from Taipei, I think most people wear them if they are sick or think they might be getting sick, but I'm not sure.
- Almost every single street has a crosswalk and a walk signal light, even on smaller streets.
- Many women use umbrellas to shade themselves from the sun.
- I've seen delivery bikes and delivery scooters. They have a box attached to the back to keep the food warm.
Delivery bike! - None of the hospitals in Taiwan have a 4th floor. (I learned this from my Chinese teacher.) This is because in Chinese, 4 sounds very similar to the word for 'death'. Some other buildings may also omit the 4th floor, but I haven't encountered any personally yet.
That's all for now! Here are a few more pictures:
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| Street near my hostel |
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| Residential area |
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| Taiwanese donut! |
Saturday, September 3, 2016
Three Days in Taipei
I have been in Taiwan since early Wednesday morning (my flight landed right on time at 5:10am), and it is now Saturday afternoon. Most of my time so far has been spent preparing for my classes, wandering around, or fighting jet lag. (The jet lag is so real, friends.) Here's a brief-ish description of my first three days in Taipei:
Day One
After arriving by taxi to my first hotel, I went to a coffee shop suggested by the hotel staff to get breakfast. The only thing I could remember how to say in Chinese at that point (due to a combination of panic and 3 years since my last Chinese class) was "bīng kāfēi" - iced coffee. They had given me a menu so I could point to my first meal in Taiwan. As they set it on the counter, a woman sitting at a table for two moved her bag and gestured for me to sit there since she was almost finished.
I went to my school to do my registration. The biggest portion of this was the placement test they use to determine which class you will be in. I also found out from the scholarship coordinator that MTC (Mandarin Training Center) has over 600 students! My international student ID is definitely the best ID card that's ever happened to me. You can load money onto this and then use it at a myriad of places - the public transportation, participating shops and restaurants, in cabs...apparently it also gives a number of discounts. So far, I have mostly used it while taking the metro.
After leaving my school, I went to the immigration office to apply for my ARC (Alien Resident Card), which I'm required to do within 15 days of arriving. It was like being at the Secretary of State or the DMV; take a number and wait for a long time. I made the mistake of coming during lunch, so it took even longer than I think it would normally. They were on number 653 or so; I was 722. I waited 2 hours to get called up. I noticed a lot of people had to make copies of certain documents, resulting in a line at the copy machine they had there. I didn't have to make copies, but I did have to take a different picture, because the one I provided didn't have the white background they were looking for. In the basement they had two photo booths that could be used to take passport photos and then print immediately. Once I figured out how it worked, it was convenient; I had a terrible time trying to find something quick and affordable in the US when applying for my visa.
Day Two
I spent a lot of time on the metro, and I went to look at two different apartments, both of which would be about a 30 minute commute to my school. Apartment hunting is difficult; I can't read Chinese well enough to use the Chinese websites. My school provides a helpful document on their website on what to ask about and what to do before signing a lease, but it is still a bit overwhelming since I don't know what's abnormal here.
Jet lag also defeated me for a bit, as I took a nap in the middle of the day. As I was hanging out in my hotel room, I enjoyed having the TV on in the background. I had it on the news in English for a while, but then switched it to Disney Channel, which was in Chinese.
Day Three
In the morning, I moved to a hostel, which is far less expensive than the hotel. The hotel staff were so helpful; they called the taxi for me and made sure the driver had the correct address.
After dropping off my luggage (since it was too early to check in) I went to NTNU (National Taiwan Normal University) to try and open a post office savings account, which I need for my scholarship. It turns out that I need a different type of ID to do this, but I can't get it until my ARC comes, which will be in two weeks. Between this and my time at the immigration office, I can say that trying to do anything that requires paperwork is very stressful when it is in another language. Even though I can try and look up requirements in English before I get there, this doesn't account for individual circumstances or exceptions.
After I recovered from that incident (which my school said was fine, by the way) I went to MTC to wait for orientation to start. Because of the number of students, there were multiple orientations. The opening portion covered visa requirements and various requirements for class. Following that, we had a short tour, picked up our schedules, and bought our books.
For me, the highlight of orientation was getting to meet some of the other students. I love how diverse the population is here, and I'm looking forward to meeting my classmates on Monday. My class will have 8 students total.
Following orientation, I went back to my hostel so I could check in. This took a very long time.
My backpack was heavy with the valuables I didn't leave in the luggage room, since I didn't have a locker yet. In addition, I was now carrying my three new Chinese books (textbook, workbook, character book.)
I made it to Taipei Main Station and proceeded to wander around, trying to find my exit, for at least an hour. I also spent some time sitting so I could rest my back. With two metro lines, buses, the high speed rail, trains, and multiple underground malls, that place is no joke. By the time I finally found the exit I wanted, it was pouring down rain. I spent a little time trying to wait it out, but ultimately decided I just wanted to get back.
After I crossed a busy street, a sweet little lady noticed I had no umbrella. Distressed by this, she pulled me under hers and linked arms with me. It was very kind. After we went separate ways (almost immediately) nearly all of the walk was covered, so it wasn't bad at all.
I think that's enough for now, but stay tuned for my upcoming list of culture shock items!
Day One
After arriving by taxi to my first hotel, I went to a coffee shop suggested by the hotel staff to get breakfast. The only thing I could remember how to say in Chinese at that point (due to a combination of panic and 3 years since my last Chinese class) was "bīng kāfēi" - iced coffee. They had given me a menu so I could point to my first meal in Taiwan. As they set it on the counter, a woman sitting at a table for two moved her bag and gestured for me to sit there since she was almost finished.
I went to my school to do my registration. The biggest portion of this was the placement test they use to determine which class you will be in. I also found out from the scholarship coordinator that MTC (Mandarin Training Center) has over 600 students! My international student ID is definitely the best ID card that's ever happened to me. You can load money onto this and then use it at a myriad of places - the public transportation, participating shops and restaurants, in cabs...apparently it also gives a number of discounts. So far, I have mostly used it while taking the metro.
After leaving my school, I went to the immigration office to apply for my ARC (Alien Resident Card), which I'm required to do within 15 days of arriving. It was like being at the Secretary of State or the DMV; take a number and wait for a long time. I made the mistake of coming during lunch, so it took even longer than I think it would normally. They were on number 653 or so; I was 722. I waited 2 hours to get called up. I noticed a lot of people had to make copies of certain documents, resulting in a line at the copy machine they had there. I didn't have to make copies, but I did have to take a different picture, because the one I provided didn't have the white background they were looking for. In the basement they had two photo booths that could be used to take passport photos and then print immediately. Once I figured out how it worked, it was convenient; I had a terrible time trying to find something quick and affordable in the US when applying for my visa.
Day Two
I spent a lot of time on the metro, and I went to look at two different apartments, both of which would be about a 30 minute commute to my school. Apartment hunting is difficult; I can't read Chinese well enough to use the Chinese websites. My school provides a helpful document on their website on what to ask about and what to do before signing a lease, but it is still a bit overwhelming since I don't know what's abnormal here.
Jet lag also defeated me for a bit, as I took a nap in the middle of the day. As I was hanging out in my hotel room, I enjoyed having the TV on in the background. I had it on the news in English for a while, but then switched it to Disney Channel, which was in Chinese.
Day Three
In the morning, I moved to a hostel, which is far less expensive than the hotel. The hotel staff were so helpful; they called the taxi for me and made sure the driver had the correct address.
After dropping off my luggage (since it was too early to check in) I went to NTNU (National Taiwan Normal University) to try and open a post office savings account, which I need for my scholarship. It turns out that I need a different type of ID to do this, but I can't get it until my ARC comes, which will be in two weeks. Between this and my time at the immigration office, I can say that trying to do anything that requires paperwork is very stressful when it is in another language. Even though I can try and look up requirements in English before I get there, this doesn't account for individual circumstances or exceptions.
After I recovered from that incident (which my school said was fine, by the way) I went to MTC to wait for orientation to start. Because of the number of students, there were multiple orientations. The opening portion covered visa requirements and various requirements for class. Following that, we had a short tour, picked up our schedules, and bought our books.
For me, the highlight of orientation was getting to meet some of the other students. I love how diverse the population is here, and I'm looking forward to meeting my classmates on Monday. My class will have 8 students total.
Following orientation, I went back to my hostel so I could check in. This took a very long time.
My backpack was heavy with the valuables I didn't leave in the luggage room, since I didn't have a locker yet. In addition, I was now carrying my three new Chinese books (textbook, workbook, character book.)
I made it to Taipei Main Station and proceeded to wander around, trying to find my exit, for at least an hour. I also spent some time sitting so I could rest my back. With two metro lines, buses, the high speed rail, trains, and multiple underground malls, that place is no joke. By the time I finally found the exit I wanted, it was pouring down rain. I spent a little time trying to wait it out, but ultimately decided I just wanted to get back.
After I crossed a busy street, a sweet little lady noticed I had no umbrella. Distressed by this, she pulled me under hers and linked arms with me. It was very kind. After we went separate ways (almost immediately) nearly all of the walk was covered, so it wasn't bad at all.
I think that's enough for now, but stay tuned for my upcoming list of culture shock items!
Wednesday, May 4, 2016
Fleeing Trump Doesn't Make You a Refugee
After working with refugees for two years in Tucson, one of the things I've become sensitive about is how the word 'refugee' is used in media and conversation. Just today I have seen articles about the first "climate" refugees and a potential upcoming "American refugee crisis to Canada." While Trump is, of course, terrible, fleeing him does not make you a refugee.
In our Refugee 101 training in Tucson, the first thing we talked about was the definition of refugee. Though it might seem insignificant, the definition of refugee is important because it actually determines whether or not a person is eligible to receive protection.
To qualify as a United Nations refugee, a person must meet the following qualifications:
"The 1951 Refugee Convention spells out that a refugee is someone who "owing to a well-founded fear of being persecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group or political opinion, is outside the country of his nationality, and is unable to, or owing to such fear, is unwilling to avail himself of the protection of that country." (UNHCR website)
So who is not a refugee?
The two primary misconceptions in this area involve people who:
a) Flee due to economic insecurity
b) Flee due to weather-related emergencies / climate catastrophes
I don't bring this up to diminish the experiences of people who have been through these struggles and disasters, but I do think the difference is significant. A hurricane can't target a specific people group. Economic struggles are complex and while often systemic are more difficult to trace. Since they don't involve direct physical violence, these struggles are in a different category.
People experiencing these challenges deserve support and assistance, but the designation of refugee is kept separate.
In summary, to be a refugee is to have your agency taken from you. Does choice truly exist if your choice is leave or die?
I think the essence of what it is to be a refugee is captured powerfully in this poem by Warsan Shire.
This is what it means to be a refugee. It does not mean that you are unhappy with your politicians. You, at least, still have the ability to be angry with your leaders without having to fear for your life as a result.
In our Refugee 101 training in Tucson, the first thing we talked about was the definition of refugee. Though it might seem insignificant, the definition of refugee is important because it actually determines whether or not a person is eligible to receive protection.
To qualify as a United Nations refugee, a person must meet the following qualifications:
"The 1951 Refugee Convention spells out that a refugee is someone who "owing to a well-founded fear of being persecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group or political opinion, is outside the country of his nationality, and is unable to, or owing to such fear, is unwilling to avail himself of the protection of that country." (UNHCR website)
So who is not a refugee?
The two primary misconceptions in this area involve people who:
a) Flee due to economic insecurity
b) Flee due to weather-related emergencies / climate catastrophes
I don't bring this up to diminish the experiences of people who have been through these struggles and disasters, but I do think the difference is significant. A hurricane can't target a specific people group. Economic struggles are complex and while often systemic are more difficult to trace. Since they don't involve direct physical violence, these struggles are in a different category.
People experiencing these challenges deserve support and assistance, but the designation of refugee is kept separate.
In summary, to be a refugee is to have your agency taken from you. Does choice truly exist if your choice is leave or die?
I think the essence of what it is to be a refugee is captured powerfully in this poem by Warsan Shire.
no one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
you only run for the border
when you see the whole city running as well
home is the mouth of a shark
you only run for the border
when you see the whole city running as well
your neighbors running faster than you
breath bloody in their throats
the boy you went to school with
who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory
is holding a gun bigger than his body
you only leave home
when home won’t let you stay.
breath bloody in their throats
the boy you went to school with
who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory
is holding a gun bigger than his body
you only leave home
when home won’t let you stay.
no one leaves home unless home chases you
fire under feet
hot blood in your belly
it’s not something you ever thought of doing
until the blade burnt threats into
your neck
and even then you carried the anthem under
your breath
only tearing up your passport in an airport toilets
sobbing as each mouthful of paper
made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back.
fire under feet
hot blood in your belly
it’s not something you ever thought of doing
until the blade burnt threats into
your neck
and even then you carried the anthem under
your breath
only tearing up your passport in an airport toilets
sobbing as each mouthful of paper
made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back.
you have to understand,
that no one puts their children in a boat
unless the water is safer than the land
no one burns their palms
under trains
beneath carriages
no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck
feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled
means something more than journey.
no one crawls under fences
no one wants to be beaten
pitied
that no one puts their children in a boat
unless the water is safer than the land
no one burns their palms
under trains
beneath carriages
no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck
feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled
means something more than journey.
no one crawls under fences
no one wants to be beaten
pitied
no one chooses refugee camps
or strip searches where your
body is left aching
or prison,
because prison is safer
than a city of fire
and one prison guard
in the night
is better than a truckload
of men who look like your father
no one could take it
no one could stomach it
no one skin would be tough enough
or strip searches where your
body is left aching
or prison,
because prison is safer
than a city of fire
and one prison guard
in the night
is better than a truckload
of men who look like your father
no one could take it
no one could stomach it
no one skin would be tough enough
the
go home blacks
refugees
dirty immigrants
asylum seekers
sucking our country dry
niggers with their hands out
they smell strange
savage
messed up their country and now they want
to mess ours up
how do the words
the dirty looks
roll off your backs
maybe because the blow is softer
than a limb torn off
go home blacks
refugees
dirty immigrants
asylum seekers
sucking our country dry
niggers with their hands out
they smell strange
savage
messed up their country and now they want
to mess ours up
how do the words
the dirty looks
roll off your backs
maybe because the blow is softer
than a limb torn off
or the words are more tender
than fourteen men between
your legs
or the insults are easier
to swallow
than rubble
than bone
than your child body
in pieces.
i want to go home,
but home is the mouth of a shark
home is the barrel of the gun
and no one would leave home
unless home chased you to the shore
unless home told you
to quicken your legs
leave your clothes behind
crawl through the desert
wade through the oceans
drown
save
be hunger
beg
forget pride
your survival is more important
than fourteen men between
your legs
or the insults are easier
to swallow
than rubble
than bone
than your child body
in pieces.
i want to go home,
but home is the mouth of a shark
home is the barrel of the gun
and no one would leave home
unless home chased you to the shore
unless home told you
to quicken your legs
leave your clothes behind
crawl through the desert
wade through the oceans
drown
save
be hunger
beg
forget pride
your survival is more important
no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear
saying-
leave,
run away from me now
i dont know what i’ve become
but i know that anywhere
is safer than here
saying-
leave,
run away from me now
i dont know what i’ve become
but i know that anywhere
is safer than here
This is what it means to be a refugee. It does not mean that you are unhappy with your politicians. You, at least, still have the ability to be angry with your leaders without having to fear for your life as a result.
Saying that you will leave the US and move to Canada if x, y, or z, happens does not make you a refugee. It is an exaggerated expression of frustration that will likely never come to pass. It means you have a choice.
While I understand where people are coming from, I think we should refrain from calling ourselves 'refugees.' Most of us will never be forced to understand that struggle. We should respect that by not trying to claim that term for ourselves.
Wednesday, December 9, 2015
a world of hardened hearts
Sometimes I ask myself,
Does any of this matter? Do my words mean anything? Will they have any effect on those who hear them?
Will they result in contemplation or will they be filed into predetermined categories-- right and wrong?
When did right and wrong become synonymous with agree and disagree?
Do people yet exist who grapple for the truth? Who are willing to admit their shortcomings, their assumptions, their ignorance? Who want to push beyond that place into one of growth and learning?
Will you question and research and consider before making a judgment? Or are we locked in a futile battle in which no one will change sides? Is your opinion a locked door, and will you refuse to open it even if I find the key?
I want to believe that we are not a world of hardened hearts. I want to believe that people yet exist who care more about doing what is right than being right (or proving another wrong).
For some of us, it is a world of rhetoric. For others, it is life and death.
"God help me distinguish between a true desire for justice, goodness, and mercy and the compulsive need to be proven right." - Rachel Held Evans
Does any of this matter? Do my words mean anything? Will they have any effect on those who hear them?
Will they result in contemplation or will they be filed into predetermined categories-- right and wrong?
When did right and wrong become synonymous with agree and disagree?
Do people yet exist who grapple for the truth? Who are willing to admit their shortcomings, their assumptions, their ignorance? Who want to push beyond that place into one of growth and learning?
Will you question and research and consider before making a judgment? Or are we locked in a futile battle in which no one will change sides? Is your opinion a locked door, and will you refuse to open it even if I find the key?
I want to believe that we are not a world of hardened hearts. I want to believe that people yet exist who care more about doing what is right than being right (or proving another wrong).
For some of us, it is a world of rhetoric. For others, it is life and death.
"God help me distinguish between a true desire for justice, goodness, and mercy and the compulsive need to be proven right." - Rachel Held Evans
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