I don't know if it has been the victim of all the anti-immigrant sentiment of late or the immigrant bashing as a whole, but last Tuesday, September 14, 2010, something amazing and wonderful happened in this country. But unless you were in New England you heard nothing about it. Even then there wasn't much. And we all are the poorer for it:
(NECN: Peter Howe, Boston) Officials said it was one of the biggest events of its kind ever: 5,189 immigrants from 151 nations becoming United States citizens Tuesday -- in one of New England's most sacred spaces, Fenway Park.
NECN - Video there too*
My husband was one of those 5,189 immigrants.
I've always disagreed with the allegory of the USA being a melting pot. A place where immigrants come and their culture and identities melt into one homogeneous indistinguishable American identity.
While we have a unique identity to be sure we have never "melted." That's why we have area pockets in cities with names such as "Little Italy," "China Town," the "German Section," "Spanish Harlem," etc. Even small town America has these insulated pockets.
When my Great Grandfather brought his family over, they settled in an area of Kansas where everyone was like them, spoke German, and worshiped in the same Christian sect. Many didn't need to learn English, instead leaving that for those who had to deal with the "outside" world, i.e. the rest of the US. They could rely on them to translate for them if need be.
Both my paternal grandparents were below the age of four when they arrived in the US. They learned English when they started school. But that insulative quality of life continued and my aunts, who were born here, did not begin learning English until they entered 1st grade. The world for them, until that point, spoke German. Only WWII changed that, German was banned from the house and my father (the second to the youngest) lost what he had learned in his young life.
My father married a woman(my mother) of (1/2) German descent, a second generation American on her father's side, and of a different Christian sect. But still many of the traditions brought from Germany were passed down to us, with new ones added.
At most holiday meals in my family you will find a type of dinner roll called Zwieback, but not the Zwieback you know. This one looks like a "snow man" but with only a base and a head. This is the bread, the food, that sustained my father's family in the Atlantic crossing. It is something we remember and pass down to our children.
My point in telling you this about my family is not to detract from what my husband did on Tuesday, it's to defend what he is, what those 5,189 new Americans are. When becoming Americans my family didn't loose their "Germanness" and become British like or French like, or whatever. America has never been a "melting pot," more like a stew, a mélange. Each of us keeping our family and cultural identity, but using that to contribute to a gravy that is rich and flavorful and is the American Identity, that can be found no where else. It is part of our strength.
So too does my husband, an immigrant, a new American, bringing his language (he speaks 3), his ideas and experiences, his culture, his religion and his traditions to this country, making it an even richer stew. He didn't lose his "Pakistaniness," nor should he. On Monday he was a Pakistani, Tuesday he became an American, a Pakistani-American:
From the video that won't embedded but that you should see:
"Our nation, like a good ball club, is better for having this mixture of talented good people from all backgrounds." - Larry Lucchino, President and CEO, Boston Red Sox
"And they are a blend of races, religions and ages. Some already giving service to their new country." - Pam Cross, reporter [video shows men in uniform]
"Dissent is part of the bargain. Criticism of this country is part of the contract." - Judge Nancy Gertner, U.S. District Court
[America needs]"the contributions the perspectives and the experiences of all Americans, but especially our newest Americans" - Janet Napolitano, Secretary, DHS
His day began on Tuesday like most other days. I made him a larger than normal breakfast, as the first page of his packet directed. (These are his pictures)
Then I saw him off at the MBTA commuter rail station and he made his way to Fenway Park. Once there he stood for a while in a slowly moving line.
Look at the sign right under the grandstand sign:
The stands filling up with people who will take the oath and be Americans in a few hours.
On one side of him:
On the other side of him:
Video of another new American of that day (audio tracking is a bit off toward the end)
After the ceremony my sons and I went to wait for my husband to sign his name and finish the process. While we were waiting we saw families reunite with tears of joy, several new Americans from Spanish speaking countries greeted with "Hola Gringo!" by their friends and family, people with clipboards milling around to register these new Americans to vote (my husband did register).
I over heard one man laugh and say to his friends that when they took his green card he felt naked.
After waiting for about an hour my husband of 22 years, who came here as a student when he was 17, fell in-love and married an American woman, has lived here all his adult life (27 years), who has paid taxes, bought a home, raised his 2 step children and his 2 biological children, he emerged from Fenway Park, an American.
Then we went to eat. He had a hamburger.
One of his favorite pieces of music, which seems incredibly fitting for this diary, is (American composer) Aaron Copland's Fanfare for the Common Man:"
Like those who came here before him, he dose not amputate that part of himself, the "pre-American" part of him. He "lives," "loves," and exists in two places. Here in the country he chose, and in the country of his birth. The country that carries his mother, his brothers, sister, sister-in-law, brother-in-law, cousins, nieces, and nephews. Where they live, work, are educated, grow up, raise their families, grow old, and eventually pass away.
It would be absurd to think anyone could remove that part of who they are. Nor should they be expected to. He is what he has always been, and pity the man who would require that to change. This family, my family, his friends and this country would lose much in asking him to be what he is not, or for him not to be "true to himself." Someone I will continue to introduce to you, as well as the culture and country he comes from.
We thought about having a party this weekend. But enlight of the on going tragedy and crisis in the country of his birth we are asking everyone to donate to flood relief. Please help us CELEBRATE! by donating to relief efforts for Pakistan.
In the early days we focused on organization that gave direct support. That list is here:
• • • • • •
Greg (Three Cups of Tea, Stones Into Schools) Mortenson's non-profit (CAI) recommends supporting a local (Pakistani) groups to which donations will likely have a large, immediate, and lasting impact-
Human Development Foundation
http://www.hdf.com
(800) 705 1310
DONATE
• • • • • •
Doctors without Borders (MSF):
DONATE
Shelterbox
DONATE
Mercy Corps:
DONATE
OXFAM:
DONATE
Islamicrelief
DONATE
UNICEF:
DONATE
Toll free: 1-800-FOR-KIDS (1-800-367-5437)
Text: "Text FLOODS to 864233 (UNICEF) to donate $10"
Shelterbox:
DONATE
ShelterBox tents in Shishkat upper Hunza, Pakistan
• • • • • •
From the US State dept.
How You Can Help:
Text "FLOOD" to 27722. Your $10 will go to the State Department Fund for Pakistan Relief that Secretary Clinton announced August 19, and is part of a new effort to bring attention to the need for aid.
Text "SWAT" to 50555 ; $10 goes to United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees fund for flood victims
• • • • • •
We are looking at what may be the worst humanitarian crisis the world has seen in a century, and the worst Climate Change disaster yet.
Some of us at Daily Kos use a Google group to help organize for the crisis in Pakistan. Anyone who would like to get involved or get alerts when a new HELP PAKISTAN diary is posted, please join
( CLICK THE PIC )
• • • • • •
*=embolden mine