Tonight, I am Afraid

I was born in Denmark; home of hygge, Lego, and Georg Jensen.  Home of Queen Margrethe the Second, of Barbie Girl, and The Little Mermaid.  I was born white.  My mother passed to me her blonde hair, her blue eyes, and her fierce determination for standing up for myself and others.

I came to America as an immigrant by choice when I was eighteen.  I did not have to flee a war.  I was not running from terror or persecution.  My family’s economic situation allowed us to come.  I have considered myself a Danish-American for the eighteen years since, forgetting about my Green Card, about my not quite Americanism, not thinking about how I am immigrant.

I don’t speak with an accent.  Most people are not even aware that I was not born here, nor raised.  I think in English, I dream in English, I even teach English, even though it has never been my first language and never will be.  And for the first time since coming to this country, I am afraid.  As an immigrant, I am afraid.

Logically I shouldn’t be; after all, I am not seen as an enemy.  I am not from one of the seven nations whose people have been banned from entering this country.  I am not a Muslim.  I am not someone whose people have been vilified for acts of a few.  My own inherent privilege has shielded me from so much.  I know this, and still…

As someone who holds a Green Card.  As someone who is waiting to be sworn in as a citizen, as someone who does not have the full protection of the law, I realized that the pit in my stomach that I felt today was not just of outrage, but of fear.  Because I am leaving for an international trip soon and for the first time ever, I have to consider whether I could be stopped from re-entering.  Would I be told to return to Denmark, my country of citizenship because of my beliefs?  Because of what I say?  After all, I am publicly speaking out against the policies that are being implemented.  I am not hiding my beliefs and I wonder if I should be?  I cannot help but wonder…

As I turned to my  America born husband today and told him of my fear, I felt so stupid.  Was this another sign of my white privilege assuming that even a sliver of what is happening around us has anything to do with me?   After all, the hatred, fear, and ignorance of those in power of this nation are not being directed toward people like me, it so rarely is, which that is a whole other post.  I expected him to tell me I was over thinking it, that I was being silly, that I needed to take a step back and breathe.  Instead he told me that he got it, that he knew logically that we probably have nothing to worry about but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t happen.  We have already seen such extreme actions, what will be next?  After all, first they came for the Socialists…

So tonight, as I try to find resources to somehow have my students discuss these past few days’ events, without sharing my own thoughts,  I am trying to tell myself that I have nothing to fear.  That my trip will be fine.  That my re-entry will be nothing out of the ordinary.  I cannot fathom how all of those families must feel around the world as they don’t get to dismiss their fears as irrational.

This is my truth tonight and I am not quite sure why I am sharing it.  But there you go.

Filed under: being a teacher