From minor discomforts with language to being ripped off at my first apartment, I’m finding that life as an ex-pat in Spain isn’t all flamenco and tapas. As a result, I’m gaining some serious respect for people who pick up and move to a new country out of necessity.
That might be a significant mental leap to make. Let me ’splain. No, let me sum up:
Serious planning went into my coming to Spain, and I also feel as though I’ve been gradually guided here for years now. I took Spanish all through high school. I’m majoring in the language in college. Not to mention my language acquisition got a jumpstart when my mom enrolled me in a Spanish class in fourth grade, consequently helping me wrap my brain around a foreign tongue before the all important era of puberty, also known as “the beginning of the end” when it comes to seriously retaining anything at all.
Sure, I had some reservations, but mostly I was freaking excited to come to Spain. Being able to study here is truly the realization of a dream.
I went through a honeymoon stage with this country the first couple months I was here. Everything was new and fantastic and beautiful.
And then reality set in.
Life in a foreign country has ended up being harder than I thought it would be.
I’ve missed my family. Not everyone has been as nice as I had hoped. You can’t find a street taco or a single flipping jalapeño anywhere. I was so prideful about my language ability, and it has turned out much more difficult to effectively communicate than I had expected.
Don’t get me wrong.
I feel as though I am exactly where I am supposed to be right now. I’m learning so much. I’m making friends with incredible people from around the world.
And I’m grateful. If it was easy to be here, I don’t think the experience would be as valuable, or – if I may deviate from my pragmatic side for a moment – as enjoyable.
Nor would this story have resonated with me as much as it did.
I’m a big fan of the radio show This American Life on National Public Radio, and I’ve been keeping up by means of the podcast while abroad (Ira Glass, if you read this, I promise I’ll contribute to your marvelous creative effort when I’m no longer a broke college kid).
The first act from this week’s show is about recently the enacted so called “self-deportation” legislation in Alabama. The law is creating quite a stir in that state and is getting plenty of press time thanks to the likes of a presidential hopeful who will remain unnamed, but happens to be a past candidate and a Mormon. Yeah, I’ll leave that all vague and ambiguous. Sorry for that.
I’m trying really hard to keep my sarcasm checked here… But I get antsy just thinking about this issue. And honestly, it’s a touchy subject and I’m bound to offend someone. So here goes nothing.
Here’s what’s up: in hopes of freeing up jobs for American citizens, legislators have passed HB-56. The law makes it a criminal offense to be an undocumented immigrant, consequently allowing ordinary police officers to check citizen papers and make an arrest when, say, making a common traffic stop.
What’s more, ordinary citizens have gotten in on the action, making suspected illegal aliens feel unwelcome and unwanted. The goal is to get them to pick up and go home on their own.
Incidents have occurred like employers refusing to pay workers for already completed work, Wal-Mart employees failing to complete money orders for customers (which don’t require any proof of citizenship) and high school students yelling “Mexicans move to the back!” at a pep rally are just a handful of examples of the fallout from this bill. One woman talked about members in her church refusing to “pass the peace” to her. The folks having these experiences are Latino.
Terrific. We’re resorting to racial profiling yet again, because we have seen that when it comes to solving big problems, terrorism, for instance, racial profiling is, like, flawless.
The most poignant story for me was that of a little girl who had to say goodbye to her best friend, whose family moved to Mexico. The friend reported that Mexico is more fun – she can go out to play, or go to the mall. Kids of parents who aren’t documented in the U.S. aren’t going anywhere these days. They’re stuck at home, some not even going to school, because their parents fear being deported while away from their offspring. If that happened, the kids would end up in foster care.
I’m going to boldly venture that there is something far more sinister about what is going on here than another attempt to help solve unemployment or deal with illegal immigration.
The current situation in Alabama is exemplary of what happens when people in power use fear to manipulate the powerless.
Let’s be clear – this is not the government acting unilaterally. This law sweeps ordinary folks like you and me into the action and gives them the power to determine who goes, who ends up out of work, who gets sent scurrying home to hide.
Do you know what it is called when fear is used to manipulate someone into doing what you want him or her to do?
It’s called slavery.
There are people living in slavery in the United States of America. Millions of people are enslaved by fear because of what could happen to them.
Fear of being shunned by society.
Fear of being found out.
Fear of being forced to leave the country that has become one’s home.
Fear of being consequently separated from one’s children, and the terror that they would then end up in foster care.
Can you see why this tactic for dealing with people is inhumane?
It positively brings out the worst in people. For fear of “the other,” fear tactics are used to manipulate until a sense of safety is achieved.
I’m reminded of the horror of William Golding’s Lord of the Flies, where the weakest ones are stepped on and smashed in a juvenile battle for power and security.
Fear of each other is never the way to create good.
Supporters claim that since the passage of the bill, unemployment has dropped. They credit the law with making this a reality.
Here’s the catch: the industries where unemployment has decreased are not in areas where Latinos work. But Latinos are the people who are being discriminated against.
I could go on at length regarding the issues with racial profiling. I could talk about how this is reminiscent of the Jim Crow laws of the pre-civil rights era.
But suffice it to say: this is insanity.
The most vulnerable people are those who need to be looked out for, not marginalized. The use of fear to give security to the powerful is to trample underfoot those who are powerless.
This is not my idea, nor is it a new one.
In the Hebrew scriptures, God continually reminds his people to look out for people who are vulnerable. Orphans and widows, the poor, and yes, foreigners. Again and again, the Israelites are corrected when they fail to care for the people who most need it.
A couple of examples:
From Deutoronomy:
“So cut away the thick calluses from your heart and stop being so willfully hardheaded. God, your God, is the God of all gods, he's the Master of all masters, a God immense and powerful and awesome. He doesn't play favorites, takes no bribes, makes sure orphans and widows are treated fairly, takes loving care of foreigners by seeing that they get food and clothing.
You must treat foreigners with the same loving care—
remember, you were once foreigners in Egypt.”
From Leviticus:
"When a foreigner lives with you in your land, don't take advantage of him. Treat the foreigner the same as a native. Love him like one of your own. Remember that you were once foreigners in Egypt. I am God, your God.”
This is a topic I get fired up about. Even more so, interestingly, now that I’m not in the U.S.
I’ve had some scary moments since touching down in Madrid five months ago. I’ve been both scammed and robbed, both of which were very unpleasant experiences, I assure you.
But those experiences are small shadows that have nearly disappeared, awash in the sunlight of all the goodness I’ve experienced. I’m so grateful for all the people who have opened their hearts, shared a meal, given sound advice, invited me to share in family celebrations, danced with me, cried with me, shared a cup of tea and generally let me know that they’re glad I exist. When I am completely honest, I admit that I have had moments where I have wanted to curl up in my bed and cower in fear. Thank God that he has not left me there, but has brought people alongside me who have listened and helped me and strengthened my courage.
I ask you, why would it ever be OK to try to make someone cower in fear?
I’m so convinced that it is of paramount importance that people know that they matter to others, and, I believe, to God. When fear speaks instead of love, we have some serious recalibrating to do. We have the problem. It’s us.
So here are some of the questions I aim to ask myself: In what ways do I use my voice to shame, to manipulate or to otherwise cause people to fear? Is my voice condemning or encouraging? Am I a voice of fear or love?
Whew. As ridiculously long and convoluted as it was, I'm glad I got that off my chest. Comment away!
