Category: Snow Flower-a story that takes you on a journey
Genre: Anthology, Non-fiction, Essays, Biography
If ever there was a body of people who were ghosts, stolen from their land by someone else’s war, stripped from their identity in the guise of assimilation, living on the peripheries of our notice, voiceless and visible only as a mild disturbance, it is refugees. Vu Tran, who immigrated from Vietnam as a young girl, in seeking to define a refugee, calls herself an orphan, a child who is pitied for her heroism and thereby receiving undeserved admiration, an actor who is interpreting a script, a ghost who is caught in the “space between real and imaginary.” Throughout The Displaced, readers see these ideas embedded in the stories of people fleeing from a wide array of countries such as Russia, Bosnia, East Africa, Germany.
Nina Nayeri, who immigrated from Iran as a young girl, describes the secret to assimilation: gratefulness. It wasn’t enough to know that she escaped here, found safety here; it wasn’t enough to become a part of society by going to work, going to school, going to church; she must loudly and clearly renounce her home. The hate she experienced “wasn’t about being darker, or from elsewhere. It was about being those things and daring to be unaware of it. As refugees, we owed them our previous identity.” Memories of her “funny dad with his pockets full of sour cherries” or her beautiful Iran were unthinkable to those who rescued her. “Men treat women horribly there, don’t they?” It’s a war-torn, unspeakable place, isn’t it?
Novuyo Rosa Tshuma, who immigrated from Zimbabwe to South Africa, and later to the US, writes, “To displace a person is almost akin to misplacing them, denoting being moved or moving from your proper place, being out of position.” Words are a funny thing, aren’t they? To call someone displaced is to place judgement on the person for their movement. To call someone a refugee is place the responsibility of fleeing for their lives on them. I only mention three voices here, but as I read their stories, the voices of Fatima Bhutto, Thi Bui, Lev Golinkin, Reyna Grande, Meron Hadero, Prochista Khakpour, and Maaza Mengiste stayed with me long after their short 5-10 pages were complete.
Living in a country I’ve never had to flee from provides me the ability to remain blissfully ignorant of the millions of refugees traversing across borders, whether mine or otherwise. As someone who has the privilege to choose when to bear witness to the atrocities and when to stay in my bubble, I am effectively making the choice when to acknowledge the humanity in each person who has decided it is better to flee than to stay. It may be uncomfortable for me to open my eyes to the injustice, but even writing that is insensitive and inconsequential to the discomfort each refugee endures for the chance of freedom from persecution. I’m not asking you to watch the news 24/7, paralyzing yourself with terror. But I am asking you to confront your assumptions by picking up this book at Crawford’s Books. Read these 17 stories and see firsthand what “refugee” means. See what the knowledge demands of you. See what questions arise and follow-through on answering them.
Elegance Press 