Being in the diaspora is like living split-body: one part always left behind in the ancestral homeland, the other part desperately, constantly, trying to root itself in the “new world.”

Both parts end up never quite anywhere, in a no-man’s land, belonging neither here nor there.

And nowhere does this show up the most than when the country we live in, were likely born in, or at least whose accent we speak with, invades, bombs, and destroys our homeland. In the US, this shows up with constant invasions, bombing campaigns, human life reduced to “collateral damage” of those who look, sound, and live like our families. All the while, those of the diaspora must continue to work, grinding in a hyper-capitalistic society, with no reference to our bombed and destroyed homelands. Our jobs demand we continue working, continue “providing value,” all while they invest in the very war machines that had forced our families out of our homelands in the first place.

There is rarely, if ever, recognition of what our countries are doing to others, no support for those who have to live keeping one eye on the news, another on Zoom or Slack, waiting to hear from family, and mourning even when we do, because we live in constant worry and fear for them.

The great pain is when we stand solid in the face of “what is going on over there,” and our jobs tell us “how professional” we are, because we are keeping it together outwardly and not bringing things up that may upset people, or that is too political. As if our existence demands our silence to keep other people’s comfort and convenience intact.

Even when our jobs do try so support, it is through mental health resources. And too often, Western mental health is predicated on western ideals and western family dynamics and western concerns, which leaves those in the diaspora, often from more Eastern backgrounds, in a worse spot. Because now, we are being “given resources” but these resources fall short of anything we need. It ends up being a greater burden to have to reject the resources, and either find our own, or simply go on existing in a fugue state.

And still, some people would say, “go back to where you came from if you like it there so much,” not realizing that the reason we had to leave, the reason our families left their homelands, is because they had no good choices. Either stay and be killed by a foreign war machine, or leave to that war machine and try not to let it grind you from within.

Even if we do manage to “assimilate,” whatever that means, we are then blamed for our own suffering, told that if our people weren’t led by dictators and despots, that if we didn’t need “saving,” then we would be left alone.

But as has been said before, “Americans are very lucky, because wherever they go to bring freedom… they find oil.” — Michele Serra, Italian journalist.

(Excuse any typos; I am too tired to care).

By: Rania Hanna