Becoming an American

I am celebrating my birthday today and I have now lived in the US more than I lived in my native country, Egypt. I am proud of being a naturalized American citizen but my journey of becoming integrated in the American society was not an easy one.

There were plenty of times when I did not feel like I belonged here. I came from big-city Cairo to small-town Sierra Vista, Arizona in 1996. Everything closed by 9 pm. I had a cultural shock; people assumed it was because I came to the US from the desert. I came from Cairo, which is like the bustling New York City, literally to the desert. I was even asked about camels. I always responded sarcastically, “you mean the ones by the pyramids?”

I remember the first time I was invited to a barbecue dinner. I asked the host what the appropriate attire for the event was. She told me it was casual. This was back in 1997 before you could ask Siri what words mean. I looked up the word in the dictionary. I was happily surprised to find out that it meant comfortable clothes. I was a little weary about going to a party where I only knew the host and dressing comfortably while I was going to meet strangers. I wore an Abaya, that is an Arabic loose dress. It was a hot day in Arizona, and I entered the house wearing my long and loose dress, only to find out that everyone else was wearing jeans, shorts and t-shirts. I was shocked that anyone would think tight, zippered clothes were actually comfortable.

When an Arab invites you to a meal, you know there will be a lot of food. It is also considered rude not to eat. I normally prepared to go to someone‘s house by skipping at least one meal. I was not sure what to eat and I was afraid to ask if the meat was beef or pork. They had what looked like lemonade, but I was too scared to ask if it had alcohol. I went for the salad, but it had a white sauce on it. Again, I was afraid to ask. I ended up just drinking water and starving. I reached for the corn and the host started to explain corn to me. When I told her we have corn in Egypt, she was perplexed. I told her I am not Christian, but I am sure there are passages in the bible that mentioned corn in Egypt.

I wish I could say that this was just an isolated event. My integration into American society was terribly slow. For a long while I thought I had to hide who I am. For instance, I did not drink alcohol, but all the social gatherings included drinking. If people invited you out for drinks and your response was ‘I don’t drink’ you do not get invited again. When I told people that I did not grow up with drinking, there was a reaction or a certain look. You know, the kind that wonders if I’m an alien or a Muslim terrorist. One time, someone at a party offered me Irish coffee and I loved it. The host offered me three or four cups before I learned it had alcohol. I did not appreciate that joke and I learned that alcohol made me sleepy. I wanted to avoid this happening again, so I had to devise a new strategy: I lied to fit in.

I went out with friends and when someone offered me a drink, I declined with a smile and declared that I was sober for five years. In my mind, this white lie was necessary to get me accepted. After hearing my response, people either shared stories of relatives who suffered the same illness to show support, or sometimes they just apologized to me for tempting me with a drink. It took several years for me to learn to be who I am.

My experiences here in the US, both good and bad, have taught me much. Having good friends who helped me along the way counterbalanced some of my negative encounters. Now, I am passionate about helping refugees and newcomers to learn about American culture. I am writing a cultural literacy curriculum and plan on teaching it in the fall to Afghan and Syrian refugees. It’s part of my new nonprofit, Amna Sanctuary.

My goal is to teach new immigrants how to adjust to life in America and how they can learn to not only survive, but prosper and avoid the pitfalls of being an outsider trying to fit in this complex culture. I teach these newbies the things I found most difficult, like language, customs, and how to find work and support services. If you’d like to help, go to amnasanctuary.org to find out more.

Becoming American can be tough, but being an American is wonderful.