(Refinery29.com) When Did I Become "Them"? - essay by Eritrean-American entrepreneur and actor Azie Tesfai

From: Biniam Tekle <biniamt_at_dehai.org_at_dehai.org>
Date: Wed, 2 Nov 2016 16:01:52 -0400

http://www.refinery29.com/2016/11/128145/azie-tesfai-actress-first-generation-american-essay?

When Did I Become "Them"?

Azie Tesfai
‎November‎ ‎1‎, ‎2016, ‎8‎:‎00‎ ‎AM
Photo: Stefanie Vinsel.
Azie Tesfai is an entrepreneur and actor currently starring in Jane
The Virgin. The views expressed here are her own.

Labels come with my job. Even though I don’t like it, I have grown to
bear it: the need to categorize myself to make it easier to be
identified for a role. It sucks — a lot — but as an actor, you move
on.

"Actor," "entrepreneur," and "daughter" are labels that I identify
with, and am proud to be called. There are also other labels that I
grit my teeth and tolerate. But lately, the labels that have spurred a
newfound fury deep in my soul are "us" and "them."

There is a wave of xenophobia being cloaked as patriotism that has run
rampant since the beginning of this election cycle. It is fervent
rhetoric spread via fear-based political tactics that paint a portrait
of the immigrant as the enemy, an enemy who takes jobs away from
Americans. The message is loud and clear: Immigrants — "them"— are bad
for Americans, "us."

As a first-generation woman born to immigrant parents, my experience
is that most immigrants don’t talk about the dark points of our
history. Immigrants, including my parents, don't discuss our place in
America, or what it's like trying to balance living between two
cultures. We don't speak about the labels that divide us just so that
other people can “understand” us better. We rarely talk about these
things within our families, and hardly ever make this conversation
part of the public discourse. We were taught to keep our stories
private for fear of judgement.

When I discussed writing this article with my mother, it was sensitive
and difficult. She immediately voiced concerns about what could and
couldn’t be shared. I quickly realized her feelings were rooted in
fear that can be traced back to the experience of living through an
oppressive dictatorship and war. This desire not to share publicly is
both the root cause and the symptom of a strained political
environment. It is just as much used as a powerful tool by one group
as it is an insidious defense mechanism by the other.

I’ve always felt protective of my mom and family, and have not wanted
to discuss anything publicly that would force them into the
discussion. But my mom understands that hearing the perpetuation of
this tale of us versus them breaks my heart. She said that if it could
possibly open one person’s mind, I should go for it. So I will.

As a first-generation American, I've always felt it was my
responsibility to live the American dream while simultaneously
defending my parents’ legacy and traditions. I also believe that first
generation kids — like myself — are uniquely positioned to comment
from a perspective of divergent cultural identity. More and more, we
are becoming the majority rather than the minority.

But where do first-generation Americans like me fall in this "us
versus them" narrative? Where does that put those of us who identify
as strongly with being American as with our parents’ culture? How are
"us" and "them" defined for those like myself? It is by culture? By
skin color? Which immigrants are deemed fit to live in the United
States under these rules? It is this blatant division of villains and
victims that breeds prejudices and misconceptions.

This election cycle has given immigrants one of three labels: They are
criminals, workers taking jobs from Americans, or people that do the
work no one else wants to do. This baffles me because this is not the
reality I grew up with. My mother came to this country on a nursing
scholarship. Although thousands of women applied, only three were
selected. My mother came in fourth. But a week before the three
winners were set to leave, one of them found out that she was pregnant
and was disqualified. This is how my mother was fortuitously able to
come to the United States.

After her arrival, my mom transitioned from nurse to ultimately
running numerous mental health facilities across the U.S. For 15
years, she employed hundreds of people and provided mental health care
for thousands of others during an era when the subject was taboo. My
mother also inspired my other family members who have immigrated to
the U.S. to open medical practices or meaningful businesses that
positively contribute to the country as a whole.

I myself took cues from her when I started my own company, Fortuned
Culture, a global accessories line that supports charities that
empower underserved women and children across the world. This is what
makes this country great: innovative and meaningful contributions on
various levels, many of them made by immigrants.

So why is my mom being being labeled with the most intolerant,
divisive rhetoric I have heard in my lifetime? When did she become
“them”? And does that make me “us,” because I was born in America?

At least once a week I’m asked: "Where are you from?" After
responding, "Los Angeles," I get:
"…but, where are you FROM?"

"I’m Eritrean," I say and, after a puzzled look, proceed to explain
that it’s a small country just northeast of Ethiopia, and west of
Saudi Arabia and Yemen.

The next line is either, "Ah, I guess you DO look like a mix of
African and Arab," or “So do you speak Arabic?” as they struggle to
categorize me into one stereotype or the other.
Photo: Araya Diaz/Getty Images.
I share this experience because I understand that we all make cultural
judgments. I wouldn’t be truthful if I were to say I haven’t used this
ambiguity to my advantage. I have had the honor of playing characters
that are American, African, Arab, Latina, and of mixed race. Two of my
most recent roles were Nadine Hansan — a talented detective from Miami
on CW’s Jane the Virgin — and Dr. Michelle Marrs, a conservative
Muslim doctor in Brian Michael Bendis’ TV interpretation of his comic
book Powers.

But while we have all made cultural assumptions in our lives,
combining stereotyping with fear (and the permission to act on that
fear) breeds a very dangerous division with violent repercussions.
This is where it becomes alarming. This is where we find ourselves
today.

As an American and a daughter of immigrants, I can not allow my family
to be judged this way. I will stand against anyone who dares to
threaten individuals just because they were born across a border or
ocean.

Our voices are heard louder than our parents', so it’s time to speak
up. We cannot stay silent anymore. Please get out and vote as if your
own mother’s life depends on it. Because some of our mothers' lives
do.
Received on Wed Nov 02 2016 - 16:02:31 EDT

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