I’m one of the fortunate ones to have avoided the Muslim Ban, but, while I want to think myself lucky, I can’t, for I know what my government thinks of me.
Somehow, amongst all this, I was lucky.
After being victimised, solely because of my religion, alienated in the place I call home, presumed guilty for the heinous crime of being innocent, I know that I’m lucky, because I write this in my lounge room.
I was fortunate enough to enter the country, my country, prior to the so called #MuslimBan, and all the racial tension it unearthed. It’s nothing new per se; this racism, a side to my country that has existed, and which I’ve faced within her borders, but I never thought I’d see it on such a scale. And I never thought it’d be rubber stamped by our own government. However, avoiding “worst case scenarios” will not heal the situation one bit.
I read somewhere that countries with President Trump’s business interests didn’t make the immigration ban list. Please. How is that fair? I personally know others who have visited their birthplaces and now cannot come back. And what of myself? What about my business? I’ve paid my taxes for seven years, I’m happily married to an American, I have a Masters Degree and am a professional, respected in my field. But more than that, I seek a better future for my children.
Now, however, I see no future.
I wished to put my name alongside my words but I find myself in an odd space. All you need to know is that my story is one of thousands, and that I was lucky. As for those less fortunate, those on the other side of that wall, stuck in foreign airports, or in Embassy offices, unsure if they’ll see their homes again, I’d like to level a chant at those who padlocked the gate, one that we used last night outside JFK:
Fuck the wall, we’ll tear it down.