The Undocumented Experience
Artist Statement As the child of Pakistani immigrants, there was one thing I knew well. My parents had left the culture they knew, a language they understood, and family they loved, and all of it was so I could now reap the benefits of living in America. To convey this idea in my drawing, I split...
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| Main Author: | |
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| Format: | Article |
| Language: | English |
| Published: |
The University of Alabama
2025-01-01
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| Series: | Journal of Community Engagement and Scholarship |
| Online Access: | https://account.jces.ua.edu/index.php/s-j-jces/article/view/666 |
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| Summary: | Artist Statement
As the child of Pakistani immigrants, there was one thing I knew well. My parents had left the culture they knew, a language they understood, and family they loved, and all of it was so I could now reap the benefits of living in America. To convey this idea in my drawing, I split the page into two halves, each representing a different country. The left side depicts an immigrant father, exhausted from working into the night. The right side depicts his son, still in their home country. In the middle, there is a barrier representing the distance between the father and his family. Through a small gap in the barrier, the father is able to send things his family needs at home, such as shoes for his son. Both father and son are alone in starkly different environments, showing how confusing a new country can be and how isolating the undocumented immigration experience can be for both the immigrant and their loved ones.
Epilogue
When I was 16, I wrote about the immigrant experience as my mother’s experience. I thought of her sleeping on the floor after buying matching twin beds for my brother and me, and this translated into the father in my drawing sending shoes to his son. However, in the years since, I realized I had a unique experience as well. I may not have moved to another country, but I attended school with a different skin color, different clothes, and different food from everyone else. In fact, I was so shocked, I didn’t speak a word for the first month of kindergarten. My teacher (falsely) concluded I couldn’t speak English, and she told my mother I was going to fail.
Years later, I was a model student. I had good grades, I participated in clubs, I volunteered at a nursing home. Yet, somehow, I was always two steps behind. I didn’t have anyone to help me with college applications, and my parents didn’t have any connections when I needed a job. In fact, I was the one editing their résumés. Like many students in this situation, I worked until I burnt myself out, and then I worked some more.
Now, at age 24, I am finally learning to give myself a break. However, the first-generation experience wasn’t all bad. I love wearing Pakistani dresses, and I couldn’t imagine eating anything but Pakistani food for dinner each night. When I couldn’t buy something as a child, I learned how to make it, and this shaped me into the artist I am today. When I wanted to learn Spanish, I had an easier time than many of my classmates since I already knew Urdu and Punjabi. I continued using those language skills working as a teacher in the Dominican Republic and, later, at a majority-Latino high school in Providence. I could relate to a lot of the students’ experiences as immigrants or children of immigrants, and I plan to become an educator to work with such students again in the future. I hope I can help them overcome the setbacks they have endured and discover the advantages they have, just as I did.
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| ISSN: | 1944-1207 2837-8075 |