your new god
This draft was written seven years ago. I found it recently while cleaning out the cobwebs of my digital archives. I was shocked at how little my interests have changed over time. But that’s what made it a good candidate for late publication. The subject matter is one that still fascinates me. One that still worries me.
In Karl Ove Knausgård‘s ‘My Struggle 2: A Man in Love,’ the Norwegian author and his confidant Geir discuss life over a few drinks at a bar. I don’t have the book around to give you a full quote, but Karl thinks that what propels humans into being “good” is the feeling of being watched. In their conversation, god was the all-seeing eye. But I’m not thinking about god, I’m thinking about surveillance. Even if you’re only slightly aware of data collection and targeted ads, you may be feeling watched right now. It’s just a new way for us to be judged, and when you’re foreign, the stakes are a lot higher. For some reason, it feels like you’re already a target just for being an immigrant.
Take for instance Rabia Ahsin’s case in The Guardian’s American, Muslim, and under constant watch: the emotional toll of surveillance. “She says the sensation of being watched has left her feeling she cannot safely have any kind of conversation about ideas or policies safely – not even in the classroom, where such debates are encouraged.” As I read this, I can’t help but see myself in her concerns. Some may say she’s paranoid but I can tell you that certain experiences drive you to that mental state. And I haven’t been harassed in the way a Muslim is harassed. My interactions with border patrol intimidation techniques have been mild, but they drove home the message. No matter how much I work, pay taxes, and volunteer in this country, I’m still suspicious.
My significant other is an American and has put up with the inconvenience of me being stopped at airports when we’re traveling back from places as simple as Canada. Even then, it’s hard for them to comprehend my surveillance fears at night. That’s usually when my fears creep in. The feeling that one day I may not be welcomed is heightened as the magnate currently running for president spews hate speech. It’s also quite wild to see how his ideologies are regurgitated online by fellow immigrants because they “didn’t come here illegally and nobody should!”
That point of view baffles me. As a privileged immigrant who decided to leave home as an adventure, I haven’t lost sight of the fact that I AM an immigrant. I haven’t forgotten how a border patrol officer once implied my green card was bought on some NYC street, and how another drew a mustache on my passport photo. It’s all very funny until you have to do paperwork, then, it becomes a bit tricky to explain why there’s whiteout on your face.
Either way, naturalized or legal immigrants seem to be getting carried away online showing support for the morally bankrupt magnate’s POV. But shouldn’t we remember we could be targets too? That one day it could be Venezuelans, Colombians, Chileans, anyone? How can other immigrants in the age of surveillance think it’s okay to support brutal policies against other immigrants? Is it because they don’t want to be piled up with the “bad ones?” If so, that’s a dangerous approach to securing one’s place here. As citizens, we’re still fair game. Just look at the Guardian article, Ashan Sahmad was being watched by the NYPD for being an American-born Muslim.
Right now, even writing this makes me feel uneasy despite being sold an America that’s all about freedom of speech. But I don’t know, lately, it seems like the land of expressing yourself but not too loudly, the land of don’t wave your original flag or else. . .
