My Experience Moving from Pakistan to the United States

I think the first time It actually hit me that things are bad is when I was visiting my home country Pakistan during winter break, and my friend texted telling me to make sure I come back before Jan. 20.

That terrified me a little, but nothing really fazes you when you’re from a third-world country. Leaving Pakistan was an escape from an enormous list of things that won’t even fit in this word limit. A conservative Muslim family, constant transphobia and harassment, fear of getting outed, not having your basic needs met anymore, inflation, a declining currency, a water crisis and a fucked up education system.

People ask me why I came to Kansas, out of all places, and it is hard to say that anything was better than there, because I really do love my country, but that’s mostly because I have wonderful friends back home and they made that place so beautiful for me.

I was lucky enough to have that support system if not my family. I have met a lot of queer people who don’t have that back home and I became a mentor for a lot of young queer people because I’m pretty active on Instagram as that was the only way I could be myself so people would reach out talking, as If they were disgusted with themselves for being quee, and it sucked to see.

Even if you’re not queer, there is a lot of disgust that comes along with being just brown. We are brought up to hate ourselves and it takes years to debunk that internalized racism. That’s why every time I deal with a white person being racist toward me, it’s always funny because I could always do it better.

Secondly, I missed my culture and Pakistani food which I began appreciating a lot more since I moved and it became the thing I cherished the most. It is a culture that I adore but it won’t accept me. Nevertheless, starting to notice all those beautiful things about my culture was a huge step towards healing.

I had been dreaming about coming to America since eighth grade. It was fun to dream about until I actually had to pack my entire life in two bags and leave my friends and little brother.

As a child, I remember my friends and I would ask each other questions like “where do you wanna move to when you grow up?” It is bittersweet to think we all ended up in different places.

Now how did I get here?  My uncle came to the U.S. in 2007 and he finally got his citizenship in 2019. He was at last in a place where he could sponsor me and that was what made it possible. My parents could never pay for my education especially if it was abroad. And suddenly I was in Kansas. Surrounded by people talking about the elections and trans rights and immigration. It is a lot to grasp when you’ve been on survival mode your entire life, so you kind of ignore it. These issues felt like background noise to me.

I kept thinking to myself how the grass could always be greener. I dealt with people who wanted to help, asking me to help them use their white privilege, being told my accent sounds dirty. I dealt with people thinking Iraq and India are the same thing. Being called a “terrorist” at Palestine protests and a “faggot” randomly on the street sometimes. All of this was background noise because the bar was pretty low. These things felt amusing, but that doesn’t make it right. Now that it’s my second year here and the bar is much higher, these things are no longer background noise and I am genuinely terrified. I should have been when they had to check my laptop twice at the New York airport. And being called a terrorist at a peaceful protest was a huge sign for things to come.

If someone told me to describe what the visa process is like, I wouldn’t know how. I don’t know how I did it. All I know is that it was long and complicated for no reason. I remember having to pay a lot at so many stages during the process. I also remember feeling my heart sink during the visa interview when I felt like I was about to get rejected. The point of talking about all this is I really want all this to be worth it. The idea that I could be sent back is terrifying, it takes away all I went through. Not only for me but anyone who has to go through that. If they don’t even care about your legal documentation then why do I keep checking my safe every week to make sure I have everything. I do not have the answers but I know that I have grown as a person enough to know that you don’t have to go through all this and think the bare minimum is enough. So when my friend told me to come before the Jan. 20, or I won’t get let in, I was really fucking mad. 

Zaniya Yasser is a Pakistan freshman studying media production

Views: 57