Coming to America
August 14th was Pakistan’s 75th Independence Day.
It reminded me of the very first personal story I wanted to write — the one that revealed to me the power of our ordinary stories, and which ended up changing my life.
I wanted to capture how my family came to America from Pakistan — not to publish, simply to have a written account so my kids, and theirs, would know how our American story began.
Knowing I wouldn’t do this unless I had a deadline, I signed up for a personal essay writing class. I interviewed my parents, looked through old photographs, and completed my “assignment”. I read the story to my parents; Dad had the reaction I was hoping — tears in his eyes. I read it to my kids; they were shocked that their mom didn’t speak a word of English when she first arrived.
The story ended up getting published in the Washingtonian (thank you Rebecca, Susan, Bill, and Jack).
It begins like this.
“Where you wanna go? Where you wanna go?” I don’t think my father understood a word the cab driver said. “This is our first time in New York,” he told the cabbie at JFK Airport in his heavily accented Indo-Pak-London English. “Please take us to a neighborhood that would be suitable for my family.” The cabbie shrugged as he tossed our suitcases into the trunk. We had left our country, our home, our sense of belonging — and now our fate rested in the hands of a New York cab driver from China.
We didn’t know anyone in New York. We had little idea of life in America. All of our belongings — some clothes, a few books, a Rosenthal tea set my father had bought in Germany — was in the twine-tied trunk of a yellow cab. “Which is a safe neighborhood for my family? Where can I buy discounted furniture? What schools would you recommend for my children?” My father lobbed question after question at the cabbie, trying to gain some understanding of where to go and what to do.
My mother cried in the back seat. My brother and I — too scared to cry, too intimidated to speak — looked out the window. For a seven-year-old girl more used to seeing rickshaws than cars and who had never seen a tall building, this place seemed as far away from home as the moon.
I started getting dozens and dozens of emails, from people of different faiths, cultures, and backgrounds, sharing a sentiment summed up beautifully in this note from a Jewish grandmother in Ohio:
“I was struck with how similar you and your faith and values are to my family. I am a Jewish woman who grew up in Cleveland but my grandparents and their families were from all over Europe. They too came to America when their respective countries had civil and political strife. Your struggles are identical to ours in terms of our wanting to pass on traditions, worrying about perceptions from the public and the trials and tribulations of raising our children and grandchildren and passing on our core values, traditions and faith. I realize that people from all over the world have more similarities than differences and your writing brings that to light.
And that’s when it hit me. The power of personal stories. How important it is for us to share our stories. Our stories may be ordinary – but they are profound in communicating who we are and what we value. Our stories are unique to each of us, yet they’re universal in the emotions and feelings they stir.
Stories help us cultivate a relationship, develop trust with one another, and build a sense of familiarity. Stories humanize.
This is why I started writing personal stories – sometimes my own, often the stories of others – all with the intention of helping to broaden the conversation so people could see beyond generalizations and stereotypes and simply get to know each other as neighbors, friends, families.
Something I once read continues to inspire me, “It’s hard to hate someone, whose story you know.”
Would you like to capture some aspect of your, or your family’s, life story — immigrant experience, love story, special memories, family traditions and recipes, life lessons for your children, your grandparents’ wisdoms, and more.
Allow me to write a chapter of your life’s story. Please visit SHA Storytelling Consulting for more information, or reach out at salma@salmahasanali.com. Here’s one persons experience:
“Salma is a master of listening. She truly captured the essence of my personal and professional story. I felt completely safe to dream out loud and reveal the vulnerable parts of my life. She is respectful, curious, sensitive, and patient. She truly dedicated her heart and pen to ensure she captured the truth with an element of surprise in her word choice and impeccable writing. When she read me the finished product it brought tears to my eyes. Salma is gifted and made me feel that my life mattered. She is the best investment you can make in yourself.”
To write your own stories, the “30 Days Journal” is a great place to start, with engaging prompts to capture your memories and leave a lasting legacy. Each journal is handmade with beautiful paper, artwork, details, and a special gift.
For inspiration, you may enjoy “30 Days: Stories of Gratitude, Traditions, and Wisdom.” Each book is handbound by artisans, includes exquisite artwork, and postcards.
To order, newsletter subscribers can use discount code “freeshipping” (US only).
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