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A review by angethology
The Ungrateful Refugee by Dina Nayeri
3.75
"Writing then, is a repatriation for me, my way toward home."
A super enlightening read on Dina Nayeri's as well as others' experiences of being a refugee, this memoir shows the bitter truth of what it's like to navigate through systems that are actively working against you, and Nayeri is "one of the lucky ones." Despite the provoking and straightforward title, Nayeri's identity is more complex and everchanging, having finally embraced both her American and Iranian upbringing, although eventually feeling a bit alienated toward the latter as she settles into the US with time: "Our story was a sacred thread woven into my identity."
Refugees, particularly people of colour are often seen by Westerners as "taking advantage of the system." There are a set of particular reasons that are viewed as justified in order to seek asylum in western countries, you have to be desperate, eternally grateful, and bow down to every government's whims and desires: ".. if you are born in the Third World and you dare to make a move before you are shattered, your dreams are suspicious." In the US, this superiority is manifested as America being the magical land of dreams realised if you work hard enough, and in Europe, your "story" has to be "purely factual," no emotions and no theatrics are allowed, but at the same time, if you repeat the same stories told by others over and over, the government still raises their eyebrows at you. As an asylum officer in Ter Apel says, they're not looking for reasons to accept a refugee — they're vehemently looking for any loophole, inconsistency, flaw to reject them. Asylum seekers aren't treated as people, and each case to be accepted must be "special" —they must be "specifically targeted:" .. a public pillage isn't about you. You're not a dissident, just an ordinary rape victim."
To be a refugee is to be a storyteller or a writer, and I love how Nayeri overlaps the technical aspects of that with the stories she tells about herself and others. However, this is of course, unfair, as different cultures and languages will have different expressions of one's stories, and Western governments tend to project their own interpretations of happenings that they can't really fathom. One story that stands out to me is Kanbiz Roustayi's, who did everything right, followed the rules, worked hard, and after 9 years of living in the Netherlands, his asylum application got rejected and he set himself on fire. The "waiting" period is what kills people's drive; with no clear purpose, future, no skills being consistently honed, especially as they are much more likely to be exploited and violated: "When you have no rights, everyone has power over you."
Sometimes, I did think that the interweaving of Nayeri's experiences along with others' was a bit confusing too follow; there wasn't a specific structure or narrative set, and other refugee's stories were incorporated in a bit sporadically. But I do feel that this was deliberately done, in a way that mimics Nayeri's conflict with her identity, and struggles to assimilate while standing out just enough to be extraordinary. At some point, Nayeri notices that she starts questioning some refugees' stories the way some people have questioned hers: "Do I really believe [their story]?" Nayeri does acknowledge her privilege and admits the biases she harbors, and she does show her "ungratefulness."
Ultimately, there is no right or wrong way to be a refugee, and you can do everything right while still being stuck in the system for years — it's simply sheer luck that you weren't born in a wartorn country, or to wealthy parents. And Nayeri's memoir is a good reminder of that, told in a mosaic of emotions.
A super enlightening read on Dina Nayeri's as well as others' experiences of being a refugee, this memoir shows the bitter truth of what it's like to navigate through systems that are actively working against you, and Nayeri is "one of the lucky ones." Despite the provoking and straightforward title, Nayeri's identity is more complex and everchanging, having finally embraced both her American and Iranian upbringing, although eventually feeling a bit alienated toward the latter as she settles into the US with time: "Our story was a sacred thread woven into my identity."
Refugees, particularly people of colour are often seen by Westerners as "taking advantage of the system." There are a set of particular reasons that are viewed as justified in order to seek asylum in western countries, you have to be desperate, eternally grateful, and bow down to every government's whims and desires: ".. if you are born in the Third World and you dare to make a move before you are shattered, your dreams are suspicious." In the US, this superiority is manifested as America being the magical land of dreams realised if you work hard enough, and in Europe, your "story" has to be "purely factual," no emotions and no theatrics are allowed, but at the same time, if you repeat the same stories told by others over and over, the government still raises their eyebrows at you. As an asylum officer in Ter Apel says, they're not looking for reasons to accept a refugee — they're vehemently looking for any loophole, inconsistency, flaw to reject them. Asylum seekers aren't treated as people, and each case to be accepted must be "special" —they must be "specifically targeted:" .. a public pillage isn't about you. You're not a dissident, just an ordinary rape victim."
To be a refugee is to be a storyteller or a writer, and I love how Nayeri overlaps the technical aspects of that with the stories she tells about herself and others. However, this is of course, unfair, as different cultures and languages will have different expressions of one's stories, and Western governments tend to project their own interpretations of happenings that they can't really fathom. One story that stands out to me is Kanbiz Roustayi's, who did everything right, followed the rules, worked hard, and after 9 years of living in the Netherlands, his asylum application got rejected and he set himself on fire. The "waiting" period is what kills people's drive; with no clear purpose, future, no skills being consistently honed, especially as they are much more likely to be exploited and violated: "When you have no rights, everyone has power over you."
Sometimes, I did think that the interweaving of Nayeri's experiences along with others' was a bit confusing too follow; there wasn't a specific structure or narrative set, and other refugee's stories were incorporated in a bit sporadically. But I do feel that this was deliberately done, in a way that mimics Nayeri's conflict with her identity, and struggles to assimilate while standing out just enough to be extraordinary. At some point, Nayeri notices that she starts questioning some refugees' stories the way some people have questioned hers: "Do I really believe [their story]?" Nayeri does acknowledge her privilege and admits the biases she harbors, and she does show her "ungratefulness."
Ultimately, there is no right or wrong way to be a refugee, and you can do everything right while still being stuck in the system for years — it's simply sheer luck that you weren't born in a wartorn country, or to wealthy parents. And Nayeri's memoir is a good reminder of that, told in a mosaic of emotions.