Nostalgia
My relatives got their VISAs a few weeks ago. I am currently writing a paper analyzing the works of Irshad Manji, Taslima Nasrin, Bharati Mukherjee, Jhumpa Lahiri and Monica Ali. I discuss how the author's respond to diaspora and Islamic fundamentalism.
My teacher told me I could write a dissertation on this topic. I agreed. In all the breadth of my research, it finally hit me. My family will be experiencing diaspora on the most emotional level as soon as they get here. I am excited, scared and also relieved for them. I am going to make them a big card with a poem about what it is like to live in the United States where perpetually I get asked (with no harm intended most of the time):
"Where are YOU from?"
Sometimes I just want to reply "planet earth, dumbass." But then I remember most people just want to know my ethnic background and a little about my heritage. Instead of asking that, they substitute it with the aformentioned question. It still irks me though.
Anyway, I just hope my two aunts and two uncles and their children (two cousins) don't give up on America. I know how hard it is for them to give up their life and come here (harder for the aunts and uncles because they are in their 40s). My mom applied for their VISA 11 years ago. A long time coming.
Tori Amos' song, "Mother" off of Crucify album always reminds me of journeys and change. Here's an excerpt of that song lyrics:
(which also can be found at http://www.hereinmyhead.com/collect/earth/le9.html)
mother the car is here
somebody leave the light on
green limousine for the redhead
DANCING dancing girl
and when i dance for him
somebody leave the light on
just in just in case i like the dancing
i can remember where i come from
The last time I went to Bangladesh (summer of 2000), I listened to this song over and over again throughout my journey there and back. Honestly, it still makes me tear up so much. Inevitably, in my mind, I will also associate this song with Bangladesh, my -other- home.
If you haven't heard this song before, seriously listen to it just once. It is so pretty.
My teacher told me I could write a dissertation on this topic. I agreed. In all the breadth of my research, it finally hit me. My family will be experiencing diaspora on the most emotional level as soon as they get here. I am excited, scared and also relieved for them. I am going to make them a big card with a poem about what it is like to live in the United States where perpetually I get asked (with no harm intended most of the time):
"Where are YOU from?"
Sometimes I just want to reply "planet earth, dumbass." But then I remember most people just want to know my ethnic background and a little about my heritage. Instead of asking that, they substitute it with the aformentioned question. It still irks me though.
Anyway, I just hope my two aunts and two uncles and their children (two cousins) don't give up on America. I know how hard it is for them to give up their life and come here (harder for the aunts and uncles because they are in their 40s). My mom applied for their VISA 11 years ago. A long time coming.
Tori Amos' song, "Mother" off of Crucify album always reminds me of journeys and change. Here's an excerpt of that song lyrics:
(which also can be found at http://www.hereinmyhead.com/collect/earth/le9.html)
mother the car is here
somebody leave the light on
green limousine for the redhead
DANCING dancing girl
and when i dance for him
somebody leave the light on
just in just in case i like the dancing
i can remember where i come from
The last time I went to Bangladesh (summer of 2000), I listened to this song over and over again throughout my journey there and back. Honestly, it still makes me tear up so much. Inevitably, in my mind, I will also associate this song with Bangladesh, my -other- home.
If you haven't heard this song before, seriously listen to it just once. It is so pretty.