A Lonely Road to Liberation
Deyar’s Journey from Baghdad to America
By Deyar Nasiri dmmznasiri@gmail.com
Edited by Kayla Byrd & Seyeon Hwang
Illustrated by Gina Nguyen
Deyar is an Iraqi-American mother of two, teacher, and advocate for immigrants and women’s rights. She is fluent in both Arabic and English, which helps her greatly in her field. She works with English Language Learner students to provide assistance as they navigate their own experiences within American public schools. She is also the Founder of Inspirational Iraqis and Co-Founder of Embrace Women, a nonprofit supporting immigrant women, and has helped her daughters found a nonprofit called Girls of the Crescent.
Looking out of the window of the airplane, I see the Atlantic ocean lapping at the shore of the New World. The tiny glimpse of American soil that I could see from my window seat was more intimidating than I expected.
I had left Iraq with only $1,000, a suitcase filled with clothes, and big dreams. I wanted to start a family, find a good job, and live peacefully.
As the plane started descending on Washington D.C. I tried not to think about the new life I would be starting and the struggles of the past. But the past was hard to forget.
Life Back in Iraq
My home in Baghdad, Iraq, was one I shared with my father, mother, older sister, and younger brother. We lived in an affluent neighborhood and were well off. My mother was an elementary school teacher and my father was a professor. Naturally, education was emphasized in my family and I worked hard at school. I had a tight knit group of friends and spent my free time hanging out with them and sewing.
However, life wasn’t all perfect.
My sister and I were very distant. She was three years older than me but it felt like we were lifetimes apart. She and I were of vastly different personalities — I was always outgoing and social whereas she was reserved and introverted.
This later caused a rift in my family. My parents were loving but passive, so my sister took advantage of that and imposed herself on the household. We would argue constantly and most of the time, she would get her way.
Once I got into university her behavior became more obvious. I got into the University of Baghdad to study physics and she got into a local community college.
One time I went on a field trip for one of my college classes. I brought my sister along and she ended up yelling at everyone on the bus, even complete strangers that she had never met before, and ended up ruining the mood for the trip.
When I met my future husband, Muhammed, in my second year at college, my sister and I cut almost all of our ties and stopped talking completely. I still do not know the exact reason why my sister resented me so much; I can only assume that her dislike for my then-future-husband, combined with her long-held jealousy of my personal characters and achievements, fueled her to actively drive a wedge between me and my family.
Her behavior towards me only became worse as I continued seeing Muhammed. Prior to meeting Muhammed she used to let me borrow some of the nice garments from her wardrobe, but after meeting him she locked her closet door, refusing to let me wear anything of hers. Our occasional arguments turned into everyday fights as her behavior was never reprimanded by our parents. It felt as though I could do nothing to change the hate she had in heart towards me.
Struggles under Sanctions
In the summer of 1990, Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait and this led to severe economic sanctions on Iraq. Muhammed and I had big dreams of studying Mechanical Engineering and Physics, respectively, but the sanction ruined Iraq’s economy. By the time we graduated, we were allowed few job opportunities and bad prospects. Neither of us could find a job.
Despite this, Muhammed and I were very much in love and eventually decided to get married.
On the day of our engagement party, my sister disappeared without telling anyone and then came back later that night.
She had refused to believe that our marriage was actually happening, it was almost as if she had to see it to believe it. This disbelief quickly turned into anger and resentment. When she returned, she destroyed the cake, food, and ripped up my mother’s clothes. Her hate towards our happiness was hurtful and despicable; yet, everyone in the family acted like nothing ever happened even until the next day. My sister was not held accountable for her actions and continued to push Muhammed and me out of the family.
Looking back, my parents enabled my sister to feel like she had the power to run the entire house to her liking since she was young. To them, my sister was already dealing with the difficult reality that I, the younger sibling, was getting married before she did. In my culture, this is often seen as unacceptable and my parents let her do whatever she wanted to placate her.
We were happy newlyweds but the reality was bleak.
The sanctions made it financially challenging for Muhammed’s family to survive but my sister refused to let my parents share any of their wealth with me and my husband.
There were even days when we did not have any food. Sometimes, I would sneak into my parents house and take whatever I could out of the freezer. When caught, my sister would yell at me and tell me to never come back.
When I had dinner with my family on Fridays, I was not allowed to eat any of the good food like the rotisserie chicken and dessert. There were even times Muhammed was not welcomed inside the house.
We desperately needed a new life away from my toxic sister.
Newlyweds in America: A Fresh New Start
Muhammed and I finally decided that we had had enough and that we would have a better chance at a happy life somewhere else.
Luckily, I had been born in America and had a U.S. passport. However, when I approached the American embassy about permanently moving to the U.S., they told me that it would be best if I went to America by myself first because my husband was an Iraqi and did not have a U.S. passport or visa.
On December 27, 1997 I left Baghdad.
My husband stayed in Jordan as I began my journey across the ocean to my new life. I was looking forward to a fresh start in a country where I could get a job and raise kids. At that time, I didn’t anticipate the struggles that were to come.
On the day of arriving in Washington, D.C. for the first time, I was all alone in an unfamiliar land surrounded by strangers.
I had planned to meet up with a friend of mine and stay in her apartment for awhile, but she had left for Jordan the day before. I ended up staying with her husband whom I had never met. He was very busy with his studies.
I spent the first three days of my new life in America crying in an empty apartment.
Soon, I realized that I needed to get out of the city and called a friend of mine who lived in Pennsylvania. She said I could come over the next day so I took a train to Bristol, PA, and the minute I got there, I went out looking for a job.
Fortunately, four days into my new life in America, I was offered a job at a local 7-Eleven. I continued to support myself financially for a month and a half before my husband finally managed to join me.
As soon as we reunited, my husband and I decided to move to Michigan where we had more friends. We have lived there ever since.
During that time, communications overseas were extremely limited. I only had a phone call with my family back in Iraq about once a month. Sometimes we would send letters to each other. My husband also didn’t have good relations with his parents and extended family in Iraq, so I didn’t talk to my in-laws much either.
In 1999, my mom came over to Michigan to apply for immigration paperwork for the rest of my family, but it wasn’t an enjoyable visit. She was passive and kept on mentioning how much she was missing my siblings back home since she hadn’t seen them in days, even though she hadn’t seen me in two years. It was difficult experiencing my own mother’s apathy towards me and my new life.
Beginning of Motherhood
A few years later, I had my first pregnancy. It was a really exciting time; I was pregnant with a boy! It was going well until the 36th week of my pregnancy when the baby stopped moving. My doctor told me I would have a stillbirth. I had to go through a natural delivery with only my husband by my side.
The next day, my husband had to go to work, leaving me alone in the hospital.
I had lost my first child and had no one to lean on.
When I finally went home, I had complications from the epidural and was put on bed rest for three days. I laid in my bed alone while my husband was at work. It was a devastating time and even more so considering no one from my family even bothered to call or check up on me.
A year later, I was pregnant again with a girl. Thankfully, the pregnancy went well and we named my first daughter Zena, after my husband’s sister. Unfortunately, my husband couldn’t stay with me after I gave birth so I was stuck in the hospital alone.
I had no idea how to raise a child, let alone in a country that I wasn’t yet used to. It was even more complicated because Zena had severe allergies and eczema. The only person that helped me learn how to raise a child and deal with all of her complications was my next door neighbor.
Then I was pregnant with another girl.
One day, about three months before the date she was due, I couldn’t feel her moving. I went straight to the hospital to make sure everything was okay. The doctor said I needed to have a cesarean section immediately.
Again, I was completely alone during the surgery. My husband came in from work at the last minute. My second daughter, who we named Mena, was born very prematurely and was taken to a different hospital far away.
My sick newborn stayed at the hospital for two months while I stayed mostly at home. I could only see her once a week because I didn’t have transportation.
Family Reunion and Recession
A year after Mena’s birth, my mom got ill and passed away on my birthday.
I couldn’t go see her before her passing because sectarian violence had broken out in Iraq. It was too dangerous for anyone to travel there.
My family went to Jordan to see my father and other relatives so we could mourn my mother’s death together. However, my sister got in a fight with us and we felt that we had to leave and go back to the US.
One of the good things that came out of that trip was the opportunity for my daughters to meet their grandfather. However, they were too young to remember any of it, so we planned to meet him again in three years in Malaysia.
In 2008, we were able to make the trip happen! My sister had taken a trip to Baghdad so it was the perfect time for my father to spend time with my family. It was a good trip and my daughters got to bond with the only grandparent that they had.
The rest of the year proved to be a struggle. The economic recession hit us really hard and we had little money. Muhammed was laid off and I had to stay home to take care of the kids so we didn’t have any source of income.
Since my husband was unemployed, he decided to get a Master’s degree in Mechanical Engineering. We were both jobless and had to reach out to Muhammed’s uncle for help. He was very generous and kept us afloat during the tough time.
When my youngest was in kindergarten, I finally got a job as a paraeducator in the same school district as my daughters.
In my job as a paraeducator, I have helped students in need of additional support in the classroom. For the first three years, I worked with the children and directed what is called in Michigan a Resource Room. Then, I moved onto work as a family liaison for Syrian refugees and their children who are English Language Learners.
My decision to become a paraeducator was centered around the most important thing in my life — taking care of my children. Since I had stayed at home for seven years to raise them, I wanted a job that would provide me with the same schedule that they had. Rather than worry about finding childcare during holidays and summers, I was able to take those breaks with them. It was through this job that I became impassioned for helping students and young immigrants.
Cancer… and Life Lessons
For most of my life in America, I raised my two girls all by myself, without the help of babysitters or my husband who had to be at work for most of the day.
In 2013, I went to see the doctor before work one day. What I had thought would be a routine annual checkup, turned out to be the appointment that would save my life.
After a series of tests, I was diagnosed with kidney cancer. I had shown no symptoms prior to this checkup, it was due to my blood work coming back abnormally that the doctors were even able to detect the tumor.
For the next few weeks, I kept the diagnosis a secret between me and my husband and some of my close friends. During that time, I went to work, finished the day normally, and drove home.
Even with the life threatening condition, and didn’t react — instead, I was calm and rather objective about the situation. Frankly, I was in shock and I knew that I would have to go through this journey alone, like most other things in my life, but I also knew that I couldn’t afford to be rattled and panic.
Soon after, I had the surgery to get my kidney removed. I was all by myself throughout the process and stayed at the hospital for five days without anyone. Thankfully, the surgery went well and the cancer has not come back ever since.
After my fight with cancer, I finally realized that it wasn’t worth it to dwell on the past. I had held so much anger and contempt towards my family who I felt had abandoned me but I came to learn that all my struggles in life had shaped me to become a better person and gave me my two daughters, both of whom are activists, inspire me every day.
I am now grateful for what I’ve gone through and what I have.
Although life can still feel lonely sometimes, the fact that I will always have my husband, daughters, and my own strength with me reminds me of all of the good in the world.
I want every immigrant woman and mother to know that our journey may be filled with loneliness, but we are powerful and can use our solitude to build better lives for ourselves.
Disclaimer: The views, information, or opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of WeaveTales and its employees.
Deyar is a member of the Fall 2020 cohort in the New American Speakers Program. To learn more about her journey to America, visit our YouTube channel.
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