My first thought was “yes, I’ve heard them all.”  My second thought was “I could add a few more”:

“”We Portuguese are all coloured.” {said reassuringly}

“Why are there no black people here?”

“Yes, we had that discussion about art, and we thought of inviting you as a speaker, but we’re having one on multiculturalism for you!”

“If you participate, it will show how diverse we are.” {said ironically..I think!}

“Let me tell you about racism…”

And still more (though not said in an activist context):

“I thought all Africans had dark skin.”

“In Brazil they have many names to distinguish between different shades of black and brown.” {said in impressed tone}

“Don’t be so sensitive about labels. I hate having to be politically correct.”

“I have a friend from [insert African country]. Do you know her/him?”

“People in Africa are [insert description related to nature/ sexuality/ gender/ culture].” {said with authority}

But it also made me reflect on some of the things I have embarrassingly thought or implied:

“You are Chinese. Tell me everything about the year of the dragon.”

“Russians/ Ukrainians are cold.” {in relation to social conduct}

“Russians/ Ukrainians are probably not cold.” {in relation to the weather}

“Russians/ Ukrainians.”

“Everything I know about Japan/ Russia/ Eastern Europe… I’ve learned from novels.”

“Armenia… not sure where that is, but something bad happened there, right?”

“Colonialist/ sexist/ fascist…”

“But where are you from?” (I might even have added “originally”) {Hanging my head here.  Sigh.}

My friend subsequently challenged me to make a video in response (I have opted for this post for now!) and to invite others who may have something to say along/ about these lines to participate.  What are your thoughts on this?

]]> http://intimatemigrations.wordpress.com/2012/01/31/the-not-fine-lines-of-difference/feed/ 0 intimatemigrations notfinelines http://intimatemigrations.wordpress.com/2012/01/24/looking-forward/ http://intimatemigrations.wordpress.com/2012/01/24/looking-forward/#comments Tue, 24 Jan 2012 13:07:33 +0000 Deidré M. http://intimatemigrations.wordpress.com/?p=223 ]]>

phoenix

It has been seven years since I moved to Portugal from South Africa.  And it has been just about seven days since I have returned from a brief family holiday in South Africa.  And so, there is this inevitable moment of reflection, of looking back…  It always arrives at some point during a visit home: I am in my old bedroom (it hasn’t been mine anymore for decades, of course!) and it is a Sunday (Sundays are nostalgic days for me, something about drawn-out afternoons, and childhood memories of being encouraged to nap but wandering and daydreaming instead) and I start to go through my boxes of old letters, mementos, cards, etc.  This is more than a “trip down memory lane” – it is an intimate archaeological process as I unearth stories (co-written by my significant others) of myself once again.  (I even excavated an old bar of chocolate that a friend gave me about ten years ago!  This is also a way of learning to let go.)  And there are tears and wistful smiles, outward traces of a stirring of deep wordless feelings written in hieroglyphics.  And sometimes, an insight, a tentative realization.  This time I thought:  the past is (in the) details.  And while it is good (even though often hard) to look back, to appreciate the value of what I’ve lived, right now I am looking forward.

Could you describe where you are at this very moment?

I am in a coffeeshop, in downtown Porto, not the average cafe around here – one with brown tables and chairs and a touch of vintage, one with stories in its walls…one that could be described as ‘writerly’. Outside there’s the darkening threat of rain and grey city noise; inside transporting music and, after the lunch-time crowd, strangely, only one person per table, also writing or reading, so that each time I look up from the screen, there’s the chance of a mirrored glance. I am sitting by the window. There are conditions for writing, in short. But my words also tend to look away self-consciously: mirrors are awkward; and windows a way out.

Tell us about your journey (this particular ‘intimate migration’)?

Where do I begin? A chance encounter in Berlin, the urge to run, and then falling – in love; suddenly the other side of the world capsizing mine; always elsewhere, my heart walking two places at once, all the time, hemisphered – no-one wants to be half-hearted, and so a leap of faith to the other side of the world. My heart beats in two places at once; sometimes I’m not sure which is the true pulse, and which the echo. At first my heart beats in Afrikaans (doef-doef is the sound it makes), but gradually this sound becomes hushed, and my heart starts to murmur (shh-shh is the sound it makes in Portuguese). I arrive and arrive and arrive. I prepare to leave. I stay in-between. My heart follows me.

What would you say were/are the challenges you face(d)?

I did not expect to feel so lost, that elsewhere would actually be such an other place. I suppose this has a lot to do with the difficulty of learning Portuguese. But also, there was the (in retrospect, perhaps misguided) effort to somehow immediately replicate the life I had in South Africa – to people my life with friends who would recognize me; to do what I did professionally… It took a while to acknowledge the loss, to accept that ‘I’ would have to start over. I think for the first year or so I spent most of my days walking and listening. I was becoming a shadow of my former self, trying to shadow who I was to become.

One of the greatest challenges is still being far away from my family – missing births and birthdays and sad days and just days and days… It took forever to acquire a residence permit – in the meantime (and time can be mean) I could not travel beyond the borders of Portugal without risking not being able to return. It’s challenging, not to dread the point of no return, living (for) until.

And then there is the seemingly endless battle of changing my “work status” from precarious to financially secure: a luta continua!

How have things changed for you (if at all) during this process?

There are no clear ‘before’ and ‘after’ pictures (not while it is ‘not yet’ and ‘still’). I have cut my hair shorter and shorter while dreaming of that girl who had long hair once-upon-a-time. I am now letting my hair grow long again. We have moved twice (within the city) since I’ve moved here, and each time I’ve tried to make it home (I always try to make it home) {long pause at the realization of a Freudian slip – my thoughts are getting restless}

and I’ve made a home and friends and I live here now. For now I live here.

What surprised you (about this move; about where you are now)?

I was and am surprised at myself. These days, what I can and can not do could be anybody’s guess, including my own (can I say that?). It is mind-boggling at times – I can and I can’t speak Portuguese, for example. And sometimes I can’t believe that I have been living in another country for almost seven years. And just yesterday, I discovered to my surprise, that traditional Alentejo singing sounds remarkably similar to the folksongs performed by Cape-Malay Minstrels. And that I can still be genuinely and ridiculously wide-eyed.

What do you miss about you life from where you lived before?

I miss the aliveness of colours and the size of the sky; I miss long summers; I miss hundreds and thousands of good old beautiful words in Afrikaans; I miss looking into my nieces’ eyes, and my nephews’ smiles; I miss my mother’s cooking (it’s a cliche and inevitable); I miss standing shoulder-to-shoulder with my two sisters; I miss chips and wine and cups of tea and (bottomless!) coffee-in-a-plunger with my closest friends; (I never thought I would say it, yeah yeah, but) I miss having an office (in more ways than one); I miss the way women laugh in South Africa; I miss recognizing accents; I miss witty banter (with me, wittily bantering, because I can [speak the language]); I miss a certain sense of security (in/of myself); and other nameless blue things.

And what can you be/do where you live now that you couldn’t before?

I can dance, or it is assumed that I can dance.

I can be African, without (too much) question.

I can safely take public transport.

I can travel to Spain in less than two hours!

I have kind of become a kind of performance artist/activist.

I have finely honed my non-verbal skills.

I can almost identify regional accents (well, I can at least distinguish them).

I can have olives, olive oil, shellfish, coffee, wine and chocolate, even when practically broke.

I can have a conversation in Portuguese, even if a bit broken, and I can read Portuguese subtitles and… the local newspaper (even if a bit broken).

I can live in the same country as my husband (for the next ten years…more, if I get a Portuguese passport).

I could get a Portuguese (European!) passport.

I have so many stories to tell.

A question you would like to ask other ‘intimate migrants’?

What would help you to tell your story?

with love,

deidre*

Could you tell us a bit about your project, Migrenterpreneur?

For the past months, I have been working on a start-up that will support and promote entrepreneurship among migrant women in Europe. It’s called Migrentrepreneur WomanTM. It’s about reaching out to migrant women like me, to build a network and together we can all find ourselves/our place and make our marks in our new homes.

Could you describe where you are at this very moment?

At a road-bend of finding my old and reinventing a new self. Revisiting my old dreams and ideas in order to create a new career path and to continue living life with wonder and passion.

Tell us about your journey (this particular ‘intimate migration’)…

My “intimate migration” has led me from Southeast Asia to the south of France.
I came to Italy to study local development in 2008. In 2010, aside from a diploma, I also got a new ring. He found a job here and I followed him early this year. It’s been 9 months and it still feels like I have just arrived.

What would you say were/are the challenges you face(d)?

Language, finding a job, making friends, maintaining self-esteem, being independent in a system that I had no clue about and in a language that I could hardly speak.

What surprised you (about this move; about where you are now)?

While I dreamt about the Mediterranean lifestyle, I never thought about the realities that came with it. (See above.) I was surprised that I found it difficult to adjust. I always thought myself to be a citizen of the world!

What do you miss about your life from where you lived before; and what can you be/do where you live now that you couldn’t before?

I miss being the boss. (ahaha!) I miss having jobs created for me. I miss my friends, driving, being financially independent, affordable luxuries (i.e massages), not worrying about household chores… the list goes on.

On the other hand, I now have the time to pursue my dreams of entrepreneurship, maybe even design bags (which I have always wanted to do!)… Maybe even write a book… I have the freedom to reinvent myself.

How have things changed for you (if at all?) during this process?

It was like regressing. I had to learn new things. I had to be humble. I had to push myself not to give up and to overcome the obstacles I was facing, but at the same time I had to learn to go easy on myself and accept that I needed the time to adjust.

A question you would like to ask (me/ other ‘intimate migrants’)?

How has your journey been? What tips do you have to make the adjustment easier?

Thank you so much, Nola*

the way back

I have just returned (in fact, it’s been two weeks…but I am still finding my way back here) to Portugal, after  a (two-week) visit ‘home’ to South Africa – my first solo trip in the six years since I’ve moved here.  And so, it has been two returns – between two places where my heart resides.  The familiar became strange on both sides.  I was lost in languages, often at a loss for words to give an account of being t/here.  A dislocation akin to those of airports, and the same running need to reach the people I love.  The weight of expectation and frustrated intensions, momentarily balanced by the light presence of glances and gestures.  And in the spin of all this turning towards, turning away, I am still trying to find my way to so(me)(w)here,hoping for the right words to chant and the red steps to click.

“To re-turn is to turn again.  In turning the straight becomes bent. ….Around the bend anything might happen.” (Gersie & King)

- by Truong Tran  http://usa.poetryinternationalweb.org/piw_cms/cms/cms_module/index.php?obj_id=19481

*if you have a poem/ poet – related to (y)our ‘intimate migrations’ –  you would like to share, please do (here/on our facebook page)

Could you describe where you are at this very moment?

I’m sitting at our desk ( that we bought from Ikea 2 weeks ago…go Ikea!!) in our bedroom. I’m listening to my husband Artur giving a piano lesson in the next room…it’s rather nice…

Tell us about your journey (this particular ‘intimate migration’)…

Lived in Cape Town SA from 1979 to 2007, except for one year that I went to Pretoria to study with a specific professor in music. Moved to Portugal in 2007 after marrying Artur…moved to be together and because I always dreamt about living in Europe. There was also not much of a work prospect in South Africa, seeing that I’m a classical music specialist. Then moved to Manchester with my husband in 2008, for him to do his postgraduate studies at the RNCM in Manchester. We have lived here ever since but we’re planning on moving to Spain in 2013, in our search for better quality of life.

What would you say were/are the challenges you face(d)?

Well, firstly, moving to Portugal was a big challenge in terms of language, culture, food and just being away from everyone and everything I knew and loved (except for Artur of course). In the end I think the language barrier and the cultural differences were the aspects that got to me the most.
Then moving to rainy grey Manchester with its share of spitting/drinking/foul-mouthed “mal-educated” weirdos…yes well, enough said!

What surprised you (about this move; about where you are now)?

I could not understand the English spoken by Mancunians, especially bus drivers. What a shock!

How have things changed for you (if at all?) during this process?

I now know where I’m going (in many ways) and don’t actually have to speak to the bus drivers anymore!:) Also got used to the “inboorlinge” [“natives”], the shouting at night by drunk young and old people, and what Artur calls the “koue bene” [“cold legs”], referring to the girls walking around wearing nothing more than a very tiny dress and a pair of high heels, in the heart of winter.

What do you miss about where you lived before (South Africa)?

My family and friends, sunshine, sea, lifestyle, lovely friendly people, fresh air, feeling of space, the mountains, the smell before and after the rain, the diversity.

A question you’d like to ask other ‘intimate migrants’?

Do you ever really feel like you are truly at home in your new country?

{Thank you * Obrigada * Dankie, Cecilia!}

Could you describe where you are at this very moment?

Athens, Greece. To find ‘the other’ on GoogleMaps, put in the following coordinates:

Opposite my muse,

Down down down

Inside a contradiction,

Behind some solitude,

On the roof of multiplicities,

Away from old maps of me,

Around the corner from bliss, right opposite drama,

At the edge of understanding,
Submerged in perpetual desire,

Resisting the currents while I learn to swim,

Just past the alien’s bureau,

Facing the borders with Molotov cocktails,

At the junction where challenges meet love,

At the beginning of a new migration.

Tell us about your journey (this particular ‘intimate migration’)…

I’ve always been an alien. But I’ve hardly ever recognised myself as one. I stumbled into alien-ness when I fell in love with a creature from a neighbouring planet. A mirror that I couldn’t leave for too long. I was compelled to join her in her earthly abode at the centre of the civilized world. A place where I’ve learned more about segregation, prejudice, xenophobia and otherness than every other place I have been. It’s the most human place I have encountered.

What would you say were/are the challenges you face(d)?

Being legal. 3 months of running and papers and stamps.

Trying to remember every day that love as a reason to be somewhere is not the reason to be trapped there either. Love has never been a prison.

Language. Being on the other side of understanding is exhausting. Feeling stupid/ ignorant/ excluded just because I can’t (yet) speak Greek is a constant battle.

Feeling like I have to be the polite, un-intrusive, undemanding guest in my own home. (only because I am the newest addition to a home that was already shared, not because anyone else made me feel that way).

Trying to create a company has been a tough one: negotiating lawyers and trying to define the work in a whole new frame is hard.

Not being able to work makes me crazy. I had some naïve ideas about how I would be able to create opportunities for myself to do the work I had been doing, but things work so differently here. There is a financial crisis. I’m not Greek, and therefore don’t have the connections and networks that everyone else starts off with already. Being excellent at what you do is no glowing reference for Greeks. There is no economy in my line of work, and even less a system of widening engagement in sectors (no jobs for foreigners at all).

How have things changed for you (if at all?) during this process?

It’s a constant negotiation of meaning and redefinition.
I don’t know if that ever stops, but I imagine that the deeper you get to learning the language, the more whole the experience becomes. I’m still chasing chimeras.

What do you miss about your life from where you lived before?

Cultural events I can understand
A job

Disposable income

Being able to be funny because I’m funny, not because I am outside terms of reference

And what can you be/do where you live now that you couldn’t before?

Have sundowners on the terrace all year round

Walk everywhere

Live simply/ fully

Perform my multiple identities (makeup, costumes, fashion, events)

Go out late at night

Use public transport

Have fresh vegetables from local farmers

Engage as an active community member
Make a company that embodies my ideas/ ambitions/ dreams and which has a heart

Live in an amazing apartment

Have creative arguments

Be able to dream/play/dance/debate/sing/love my partner all day

What surprised you (about this move; about where you are now)?

Learning how to love is the best psychoanalysis. I surprise myself every day.

A map …. is only valuable if treated as an unstable object, a draft, something I can redefine with my own colours, topographies and landmarks. I am not interested in being located within a received ‘place’. I create the map. I re-map, through creative encounters. I get closer to mapping my existence through actions, senses, dances, repetitions, responses.

Borders are… not recognised in my language but yet I keep encountering them. It’s so annoying to be forced to admit that something exists when you deny its power and control.
Erasure. Invisibility. Exclusion.
I perform my visibility and legitimacy every time I cross a border and mask my fear that I will be subject to its exclusions.

A question you would like to ask (me/ other ‘intimate migrants’)?

What are your traps as the ‘intimate migrant’?

{Thank you, Ally*}

just to say

thanks to those who have responded to my invitation to dialogue so far

it’s lovely to hear from you

i am looking forward to more and to start sharing your wor(l)ds here

if you would like to participate still, please e-mail me and i’ll send you my questions (ddmatthee@gmail.com)

{those of you whom i’ll be interviewing in person: i will be in touch*}

xx

deidré m.