WHY I DON'T WANT TO BE CALLED AN IMMIGRANT
When will migrAnts Be treAted As equAls insteAd of As outsiders, Asks Themrise Khan.
Never have the phrases, “So where are you really from?” and “Go back to where you came from,” resonated more in the world than they do today.
In fact, the latter is actually in the process of being institutionalized in the Global Compact for Migration between UN member states, which stipulates, among other regulatory provisions, the return of irregular migrants to countries of origin — whether those countries want them back or not.
Thanks to the ongoing Mediterranean refugee crisis in Europe, Trump’s egregious immigration policies, the U.K.’s insecurity over border control and Canada’s own overplayed policy on mass economic immigration, “immigrant,” has become a dirty word.
Since the Komagata Maru was turned away from Canada’s Pacific coast, to anti-Italianism in late 19th century United States, to the South Asian “Paki” influx in 1960s U.K., willing and unwilling migrants have always been looked upon as outsiders. They have been seen as outsiders who need to be “included,” “integrated” and even “mainstreamed,” and who, more recently, are “diverse” and “newcomers.”
One of the reasons I have never taken to the word immigrant, even though technically I am one, is because of its sheer permanency. Once an immigrant, always an immigrant. Even successive generations are haplessly labelled into categories of first, second, third, etc.
And not only do we let others closet us into these categories, but we do it to ourselves. Our degree of success is measured by our desire to be one of “Canada’s Top 25 Immigrants.” And no, that’s not a reality TV show, it’s an annual awards event.
Simply succumbing to these tactics denotes that we have come to terms with the idea we will never be accepted into our host society as equals. That we will always have to prove ourselves as worthy employees, entrepreneurs, business persons and the like, before we can be accepted into the white-picketfence mould.
Dina Nayeri, a refugee from Iran to the United States, wrote a long-read in the Guardian last year, entitled, The Ungrateful Refugee: We Have No Debt to Repay.” In it, she speaks of the discrimination faced in her new country, all the while being made to feel how fortunate she was to be there. The secret to her acceptance, she realized, was to be grateful and to acknowledge her hosts as saviours.
We have witnessed this behaviour in Canada with the Syrian refugees. We constantly promote the good that we have done in providing refuge to the nationless and cannot get enough “thank you Canada’s”, each time a refugee is profiled for the media.
But in Nyeri’s words, how much do we actually owe to our hosts, based on our prepackaged immigrant status? Most of us have had to fight to be where we are today, including refugees; for jobs, housing, education. We earned the right to be where we are today, just as much as anyone who was born here. Particularly, since we want exactly what everyone else does; respect, opportunity and security. But while for others, no questions need to be asked, for us “immigrants,” the question remains of “will we ever be good enough?”
Of course, none of this applies when policies are being developed to encourage mass economic migration, because more immigrants means more money (except under Trump’s U.S.A.). Even more refugees means more money, once their debts to the host country have been paid off (most refugees to Canada have to repay an immigration loan to the government after a stipulated period).
This makes the discussion on migration today a heavily political tool in which we are mere pawns in a greater global game. The Global Compact on Migration, or its counterpart, the Global Compact on Refugees, can be categorized as tools for “migration governance.” But they ultimately choose to play with our lives as if we aren’t real. Just the way Prime Minster Justin Trudeau could claim to welcome everyone being tormented by Donald Trump, but in the next breath send his immigration minister to a war-torn and impoverished country in an effort to convince them to stop people from fleeing to Canada.
At what point do politics end and does reality begin, or vice versa?
At what point can we break away from our past and become the present and, through that, the future?
At what point can we stop being immigrants and just be who we are — humans in an unequal world.
I for one stand for being called simply that.