Why Stay?

Why are you visiting our country? Leisure, studies, or immigration. That is the question many foreigners are asked before they are to set foot in the United States. In my case, my answer was immigration. Well, I didn’t answer per se, my parents did, and I was to follow along. They told me it was for my own good that we were leaving Egypt, where all my family and friends were. There will be nicer schools, nicer playgrounds, and you’ll make plenty of friends. Their reassurance at the time had pacified me, however, all of that evaporated the moment I started school. I made friends with the wrong crowd and was having a very difficult time adapting culturally and linguistically. The constant bullying of my accent and stereotypical questions I received were only increasing my struggle. Who knew ten-year-old children could be so brutal? I was getting extremely frustrated, like a balloon ready to explode as it reaches its maximum capacity. I had reached my max and was ready to go home. Even though life back home isn’t as luxurious or lavish as life here, I felt like I belonged. We all spoke the same language and shared the same struggles. When I beseeched my parents to leave the United States, they urged me to be patient with myself and with the kids around me. After all, they'd never met someone like me before: exotic. 

It goes without saying, if someone had asked me if I would rather stay in America or go back home, I would have definitely chosen the latter. Flash forward to the present day, ten years later, and if I were asked that same question now, I would definitely choose the former. In fact I am often faced with that question by several people, including my friends, my teachers, and mostly my parents. I remember very vividly my father asking, how would you feel if we moved back to Egypt? My answer was somewhat aggressive but honest: I was vehemently opposed to the idea. 

My father gave me a very somber reaction. His look showed a mixture of emotions including sadness, disappointment, and mostly grief. I was only able to identify the grief recently when I thought over the events of the night. At the time, I remember my father trying to convince me, but all of our family members are back home and so many of our friends as well. Do you not miss having them around? I felt furious and guilty by his assumption that I do not miss my family, which is just not the case. I found his questioning a bit ironic considering that ten years earlier, I had begged my parents to move back, but they were the ones convincing me that it’ll be fine – how the tables have turned. The guilt, on the other hand, was because even though I missed my family and friends back home very much, I still did not find this enough for me to move my whole life back to Egypt, even if it would make my parents happy. This is a dilemma that I still face with my parents, and I do not believe there is a solution that will make all parties content. 

Trying to get a second opinion on this issue, I explain the tension between my parents and me about my future and the future of our family to my friends. Many of them understood that I made my decisions and my parents made theirs and in the end, we were all adults. Other friends were not as understanding. Some would ask, well, why do you want to live here? All of your family is back home and your parents only brought you here for education, so why do you want to stay? Upon hearing this, I felt like I was being attacked on all sides. I told them the same thing I would tell my parents, that my home is here and that for the majority of my life, I lived here. I grew up here, and I have friends here along with a few family members. I was feeling frustrated that I had to keep explaining myself and my view on the issue. My friends would tell me, but still, you have more friends like you back home, more family members, and you were raised in an Egyptian household; if I were you, I would leave as soon as I get that degree, so why stay? 

Being constantly questioned by my family and friends stumped me; even when I explained why I felt the way I felt, I was still being questioned. My resolve, at first, felt like a high quality sheet of paper: clean and firm. Every time I was questioned, it felt like that sheet of paper was being ripped around the edges causing it to get smaller and smaller. Every time I received a look of judgment about my opinion, that paper creased causing me to question my choices. I was beginning to doubt myself thinking maybe the people around me had a point. Maybe I’m not looking at the situation through the correct lens. No matter how hard I tried to picture my life moving back to Egypt, I just couldn’t accept it. Some part of my brain was subconsciously telling me that I’m right; even though that sounds self righteous to some people, the conflict was more capacious than that. 

When I first moved here, I felt that I did not belong. I was constantly reminded of the fact that I was not born here, that I did not have the same mother tongue, and that I did not share the same social norms and culture as most people here. As the years went on, I adapted. I made new friends, tried new things, and learned the customary social skills of my very domestic and suburban community. I lived like this for ten years, which was the majority of my life. I became accustomed to the environment, specifically to that of New Jersey, the state I reside in. I became like many other people here: an American. This is the reality that I found many people around me, and myself at one point, did not want to accept. I was no longer just Egyptian, I was also American. I had become so accustomed to the Western way of life that I found moving back to Egypt would be impractical and would just cause more issues. How would I get a job? There were barely any job openings for my profession, Aerospace Engineering, in Egypt, and they barely hired any men, let alone a woman. This is the reality that I subconsciously knew but refused to accept as my reasoning behind my choice to stay in America. 

I did not want to admit to my friends and family that my real reason to stay here was because I was an American – if they were judging me before, they were really gonna judge me now. I would not bear to hear their judgment: oh, so you’re just whitewashed? You do have citizenship, but you weren’t born here, so you can’t really say that. This is what wanting validation from white people will do to you. For the longest time, I struggled with my identity because of all these terms: white washed, unseasoned, westernized. I tried my hardest to remain loyal to my Egyptian identity and not let the Western values affect me, but I also felt like I was missing out by ignoring all the Western societal norms. I was eventually affected by my community and began adopting certain societal norms. It was like trying to choose between buying two houses: the doors to both houses are open, and the inside seems welcoming. One house represents my Egyptian identity and the other my American one. I have the opportunity to explore both houses and understand their features, their assets as well as their defects. I am having a hard time deciding which one I like more as I stand between both houses in a kind of purgatory. I gave an offer to both houses, but I was rejected from both. I am rejected from the Egyptian house because I have become too attached to the American house, and I am rejected from the American house because I originally wanted the Egyptian one. I felt lost and at a loss. I had caused a fissure between my Egyptian identity and myself because I decided to indulge in Western norms; meanwhile, I was still not feeling accepted by the West. I was homeless. I wanted to stay in America but I never wanted to give up my Egyptian culture and heritage.

It took me years to realize that there was no such house with the qualities I wanted, at least not yet. I decided to adapt like I had always done and built my own house: one that is accepting of both my Egyptian culture and heritage and my American identity. One that I desired to live in. My desire was to stay in America and pursue my career here, but continue practicing my Egyptian traditions and values. I never wanted to erase my Egyptian identity; in fact I loved that part of myself because it made me feel unique. However, I understand that many people are not very understanding of my feelings towards both my Egyptian and American identity. While my personal choice is to live in America, I would still love to visit Egypt from time to time to see family and reminisce about the past. I had finally come to the realization that just because I chose to live in America does not mean that I am white washed or that I just don’t feel connected to Egypt anymore, it only means that I choose to identify as both Egyptian and American. In fact, on paper, I was always both, and I still have dual citizenship.