Читать книгу Rise Speak Change - Girls Write Now - Страница 48
ОглавлениеAs an Afro Latina in the United States, it’s very common to see inequality. As a result, I spoke up about this dilemma and will stop at nothing to see a change in my country I call home.
One of the hottest topics today is immigration. The news, social media, and many other informative outlets argue that immigrants influence violence, promote terrorism, and bring chaos to otherwise calm communities. As the freedom of immigrants who look like me and my family hangs by a thread, it is scary to know that some Americans believe our country can only move forward and be better without “bad hombres.”
How can we move forward if we let negative stereotypes separate us more than they bring us together? Misunderstanding the intentions of immigrants who are trying to better themselves as people is not cool. In school, I have heard phrases like, “Hispanics can’t wear hijabs,” “Africans have a foul odor,” “Asians are human calculators,” and “most immigrants should stay at the bottom of the food chain and do America’s dirty work.”
We the people—from the Preamble of our nation’s Constitution—should include everyone. That is how we will emerge as one and create a better America. That is how we will move more efficiently as a country. We have to work together.
From what I have seen and experienced as a Dominican-American teenager, immigrants are really underappreciated, yet we are the building blocks of American culture. For instance, we are the people who help make America a multi-linguistic country. We bring strong compassion and leadership skills. We also consistently fight to win greater recognition and advocacy for our communities. From Sonia Sotomayor to Malala Yousafzai, we immigrants fight for what’s right and stop at nothing to gain equality that helps everyone and not just ourselves. We do this despite having to face bigotry that is sometimes too difficult to handle.
To Americans who believe in that “bad hombre” line of thinking, I have a question: Why can’t you all cross your community’s invisible lines and educate yourself? That’s where the confusion comes from—a lack of education. You have no right to make an immigrant feel less than he or she is. No group of immigrants should feel as if they carry a disease or be targeted as criminals, or be considered poor and needy just because they ask for assistance. It’s not like America is perfect. It has its flaws and is also in need of a pick-me-up sometimes. Instead of pointing fingers at others for the disconnect, take a closer look at yourselves. Try rewiring your own thinking and comprehending more from people who don’t look like you. Because if you do not, you will most likely see another great depression, and I do not only mean that economically.
The voicelessness that immigrants feel is unfair. America is a country of opportunity and everyone has a right to express their ideas, emotions, and actions without a law prohibiting them. Just take me as an example. I am the proud daughter of an immigrant, representing not only my voice, but my mother’s voice as well.
Just look at the people around us. People from Syria are fleeing from their civil war between each other to protect their religious practices and rights. People from Haiti are going to Puerto Rico to try to get the same U.S. benefits as the native Puerto Ricans. Mexicans are crossing over borders and large bodies of water to gain a better living for themselves and to be an American without losing their roots. Some people are literally dying to get here. We as a union—We the People—should have a right to live together in one country as good, hardworking people, instead of being lumped in with criminals. There are some “bad hombres” in the world, yes. But there are way more good ones.
Home Again
RAKIA CLARK
Immigration is in the news now more than ever. It is no wonder Maddy and I had big thoughts about it.
Like Maddy, my family is full of immigrants. On my mother’s side, we are a deeply Bermudian bunch. Codfish and potatoes on Sundays. Hotcross buns on Easter. English peas in potato salad. My grandmother (God rest her soul) usually ended conversations with an upbeat “Right-o!”
Growing up in the American South, I knew I was very Americanized. My accent and interests were the same as my classmates. And nothing about my physical appearance let on that my background was all that different. Yet I still found myself codeswitching, or changing the way I spoke and acted, even before I learned what codeswitching meant. For example, when entering a room full of Bermudians, I knew always to say “Good morning,” “Good afternoon,” or “Good evening” straight away. To do otherwise was unthinkable and worse: rude. That is a cardinal sin among Bermudians, being rude. It is especially frowned upon from the too-Americanized children of expats.
I never wanted any of my family members still in Bermuda to think that I had been led too far away from our roots. Around them, I affected my best Bermudian accent. And I developed a taste for farina pie, a local dish, even when all my cousins said they did not like. It was my way of reinforcing my connection to the island.
I kept a small Bermudian flag on my desk all through college. And even now, I have a five-by-seven-inch, framed map of Bermuda on the wall in my office.
When I visit my family’s homeland these days, I feel much more American than I did as a kid. And I am okay with that. My adolescent cousins want me to bring all sorts of goods that they do not have access to in Bermuda whenever I fly home. I hear them modulate their voices and try out new slang to sound more American. And at this, I smile. No matter where we are, we long for a little bit of something else.
