6 years ago I was a freshman @ MIT and was assigned to an advising group for those interested in Middle Eastern politics. A colleague and a good friend from that group, who has now "surprisingly" enough moved back to Cambridge, recently wrote an amazing piece about the life of the Lebanese expat in the United States. I couldn't help but read in awe and exclaim out loud how much I shared in his sentiments.
While I am familiar with the feelings he and other non-American expats feel when they move to the US about being lucky to have such an economic opportunity, I marvel at how much I agree when he says, "...but few think about the plight of the emigrating youth. They too suffer as a result of their ambitions. Most would prefer to remain with loved ones, yet they end up aliens abroad."
He continues, and I agree with every syllable he writes:
"For the young expat, the dilemma is painstakingly familiar: he sits at the airport waiting for a connecting flight to Europe or America, wondering whether he is committing a huge mistake. Is it worth leaving his people, his culture, and his family behind in search for opportunity? This is not his first time leaving home. In fact, he has been shuttling back and forth for many years now. Yet he cannot explain why his throat still throbs and why he has to fight back tears each time he leaves. Though surrounded by many, he is completely alone.
The emigrant’s plight is a tale of schizophrenia. For years, he attempts to integrate into the new culture. Though he now shares experiences with his new cohort, he lacks a shared sense of identity. On many an occasion, he is reminded that he is an outsider, an alien. Meanwhile, as he acclimates to the norms of the host country, he becomes rusty with the customs of his native home. He has one foot abroad, one foot at home. Neither is enough to ground him anywhere. In essence, he becomes an outsider in both countries. That is the dissociative state of being torn between two places.
The irony is that the emigrant knows his clock is ticking. The longer he stays abroad, the harder it is for him to return home. The opportunity cost of leaving everything behind soars, and the risks rise. It becomes difficult to forego his professional standing, which he sacrificed so much to achieve, for an outcome that is uncertain. Lebanon’s political instability clouds his opportunity for decent economic gain. He could accept a mediocre job or start something from scratch. The risk of failure, however, is high as dictated by a fragile and primitive business environment. There is also no guarantee that his experience abroad will be of any use at home. Lebanon thus becomes a bittersweet memory, an ache in his heart."
While one would think that Lebanon and the US are not the same in terms of offering professional opportunities, I somehow empathize with the feelings of accepting a mediocre job back home. My entire academic career has been spent studying the international development field and not much can be done professionally while in the US. Without the local experience abroad, I have no worth in my desired profession. Yet funny enough, there is no guarantee that what I am working so hard on here will translate into useful experience in the US.
Maurice continues to discuss what it means to leave his homeland and pleading for his local leaders to understand the ramifications of a country losing its "foregone future leaders." I use his words to now wonder out loud some feelings I feel here in Cairo everyday. After walking miles in 90 degree (F) heat to work, adjusting to a drastically different work environment, enduring all versions of harassment in the street and feeling the ebb & flow of being an alien while surrounded by millions of people, you ask yourself: Is it worth it? While I as a Muslim-American woman don't gain economic opportunity by being here, I hope that my efforts and experiences will facilitate a better public good. Does this expat's struggle assist in easing the struggles of others?
While I am familiar with the feelings he and other non-American expats feel when they move to the US about being lucky to have such an economic opportunity, I marvel at how much I agree when he says, "...but few think about the plight of the emigrating youth. They too suffer as a result of their ambitions. Most would prefer to remain with loved ones, yet they end up aliens abroad."
He continues, and I agree with every syllable he writes:
"For the young expat, the dilemma is painstakingly familiar: he sits at the airport waiting for a connecting flight to Europe or America, wondering whether he is committing a huge mistake. Is it worth leaving his people, his culture, and his family behind in search for opportunity? This is not his first time leaving home. In fact, he has been shuttling back and forth for many years now. Yet he cannot explain why his throat still throbs and why he has to fight back tears each time he leaves. Though surrounded by many, he is completely alone.
The emigrant’s plight is a tale of schizophrenia. For years, he attempts to integrate into the new culture. Though he now shares experiences with his new cohort, he lacks a shared sense of identity. On many an occasion, he is reminded that he is an outsider, an alien. Meanwhile, as he acclimates to the norms of the host country, he becomes rusty with the customs of his native home. He has one foot abroad, one foot at home. Neither is enough to ground him anywhere. In essence, he becomes an outsider in both countries. That is the dissociative state of being torn between two places.
The irony is that the emigrant knows his clock is ticking. The longer he stays abroad, the harder it is for him to return home. The opportunity cost of leaving everything behind soars, and the risks rise. It becomes difficult to forego his professional standing, which he sacrificed so much to achieve, for an outcome that is uncertain. Lebanon’s political instability clouds his opportunity for decent economic gain. He could accept a mediocre job or start something from scratch. The risk of failure, however, is high as dictated by a fragile and primitive business environment. There is also no guarantee that his experience abroad will be of any use at home. Lebanon thus becomes a bittersweet memory, an ache in his heart."
While one would think that Lebanon and the US are not the same in terms of offering professional opportunities, I somehow empathize with the feelings of accepting a mediocre job back home. My entire academic career has been spent studying the international development field and not much can be done professionally while in the US. Without the local experience abroad, I have no worth in my desired profession. Yet funny enough, there is no guarantee that what I am working so hard on here will translate into useful experience in the US.
Maurice continues to discuss what it means to leave his homeland and pleading for his local leaders to understand the ramifications of a country losing its "foregone future leaders." I use his words to now wonder out loud some feelings I feel here in Cairo everyday. After walking miles in 90 degree (F) heat to work, adjusting to a drastically different work environment, enduring all versions of harassment in the street and feeling the ebb & flow of being an alien while surrounded by millions of people, you ask yourself: Is it worth it? While I as a Muslim-American woman don't gain economic opportunity by being here, I hope that my efforts and experiences will facilitate a better public good. Does this expat's struggle assist in easing the struggles of others?
Our stories are indeed very different, yet very similar. In following your aspirations, exploring the outside world makes more sense to you. Yet you wonder whether your experiences in lands far away will be relevant once back home.
ReplyDeleteI like to believe they will be. Your home needs people like you, dedicated to exploring the world. In an increasingly globalized world, it is critical for your home country to explore the outside world....one thing it has not done effectively in the past. People like you will position it well to do so.
Migration is a gift to mankind, but it is a double-edged sword. Recognize this, but live your experience to the fullist.