Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere: sonnetstockmar: Those guys may have been born in Chechnya but they...
Those guys may have been born in Chechnya but they grew up in the U.S.!
a translated quote from Chechnyan President Ramzan Kadyrov:
“Any attempt to make the connection between Chechnya and Tsarnaevys if they are guilty, [is] in vain. They grew up in the United States, their attitudes and beliefs were formed there. It is necessary to seek the roots of evil in America. From terrorism to fight the whole world. We know better than anyone else. We wish recovery to all the victims and share the feelings of sorrow Americans. “
They grew up here! The problem isn’t immigration! Stop trying to appease the masses with “Oh yeah we don’t know how this ISLAM CHECHNYAN guy got in but we sure as hell won’t let it happen again!” bullshit! It’s bullshit! You’re spreading fear you’re spreading intolerance, you’re telling people it’s okay to be afraid of and look down on minorities and people with different religious beliefs! Immigration isn’t the answer they’re jumping to conclusions!
I feel like a cranky conspiracy theorist but fuck I am angry
Everyone asks me about my “long distance relationship.” You see, my husband (and my partner for 8 years) lives in Texas. I, however, live in New York. I used to live in Texas, but had to move for graduate studies. We are both immigrants and have applied for green cards (he was lucky enough to receive sponsorship from his employer). Because we are both immigrants, our visas dictate where we can stay, what we can do. Until further notice, he will continue to live in Texas and I will continue to live in New York.
Everyone asks me about my “long distance relationship.” How do I do it? Don’t I miss him? They don’t get it. They say they would never be able to do it and hint that they doubt the authenticity of our relationship.
But here’s the thing they don’t understand. We’re immigrants. We have “long-distance” relationships with everyone. Even our own selves.
My first “long-distance” relationship began a decade ago when I left India to come to the United States. I had lived in the same house as my parents for seventeen years and now all of a sudden, my relationship with my parents was “long-distance.” My relationship with my sister, all of my friends also became “long-distance.”
Of course, I made new friends in Texas. And then, like immigrants do, I moved. They moved. More long-distance relationships. It’s even hard to find love in these scenarios. What do you do if you move? If the other person moves? You can’t move. Your visa says you cannot move. You hope that your heart will fall for a citizen, but when it is someone else with a visa just like yours, you know you’re screwed.
Then there is the long-distance relationship I have with the part of me I left back in India. The long-distance relationship I have with India, with this idea of “home” that never will be home.
Sometimes I feel like I have a long-distance relationship with everyone. I am an immigrant after all, and like someone once said, I carry the border within me in my heart. I am often neither of here nor there, so even when I’m with someone, I might be far far away.
I try not to pity myself. I am one of the lucky ones. My partner and I might get green cards. We’re doing ok financially. We will move around a little more and then figure out a way to be together. It’s inevitable. We will be together.
But, think of the mother who crosses the border or the ocean leaving behind her two-year-old knowing that she might never see her again, but then maybe manages to bring her anyway ten, fifteen years later. Long-distance love.
Think of the woman who sponsors her parents and waits in line for years, hoping that one day she would be able to take care of them in their old ages as they did when she was young. Long-distance love.
Think of the man who sponsors his wife across the world and waits for their number to come, maintaining their love through skype chats and endless phone cards. Long-distance love.
And let’s not forget those who cannot use their marriage or their love or their relationships to apply for visas or green cards. Think of the woman who loves another woman and, for whom, Immigration has no answer, no matter how delayed.
We’re immigrants. After a while, we get used to that endless longing in our hearts - for another world, for a home, for that loved one. We wait. And our love is resilient.
This is beautiful!
TotalBiscuit talking about the trials of immigrating to America to live with his wife and stepson. Man, I was crying a little listening to this, not just because I really like TB and wish him well, but because I’m on the brink of a similar immigration process right now. Thankfully, there are no children involved, but hopping borders and having a relationship primarily through Skype are in my near future, and it’s nice to hear someone talk about it, knowing that you can get through it and get through the depression.
And knowing that someone else has as much difficulty navigating Terraria’s inventory screen, too.
I’m trying to think of positives that could come from me being sent back to America during my immigration process.
It helps me cope with the
probability possibility of it happening. So far, I have:
- can cook for my parents; prove to them I am serious about culinary arts
- can get my parents to buy me nice things because I will be sad. 3DS?
- will not have to deal with cameron. he will be going to college.
- will finally learn how to use Skype properly out of absolute necessity
- can hang out with cameron before he goes to college. and some old friends.
- can go visit carina and meet her friends in ohio over a long weekend.
- new york pizza. polly-o cheese. friendly’s cheese quesadillas.
- will not have to deal with barb’s inconsistent food buying habits and trends.
- will not have to deal with bruce, miriam, or a select few of al’s relatives.
- better internet connection.
- would be forced to fix problems with laptop, primarily so I could play skyrim.
- absence makes the heart grow fonder or something???