There was so much joy. So much laughter. Smiles. Dancing. The attan, our national dance, obviously. Nothing moved quicker than those chairs and tables when the attan was announced. Afghans can be so predictable at times. But while some tears were from joy, many of them were not.
Our community is in pain. This generation of the successful and amazing Afghan American diaspora is in pain. We might now show it often, like our parents taught us to, but we are. We keep telling ourselves how lucky we have it, growing up in the West, armed with knowledge and iPhones rather than kalashnikovs. It must be said though, that we too, are traumatized. Often it’s our elders who’ve taken it out on us. We often repeat the same mistakes, ignoring what we feel rather than dealing with it.
Many of us have witnessed or been victim of sexual assault and domestic violence. Tons of us are discriminated against, either because we’re religious and ethnic minorities. Often, we cannot be ourselves because of our sexual orientation. However, things flow down the river. If we grow up poor, we often remain poor. If our parents have seen trauma, we will feel it too. We cannot be prideful of how far we made it without acknowledging that the road to here has had its bumps and snags. That the pain is real yet we act as if talking about it for a few minutes a year will be enough. Seeking professional mental health still is treated as embarrassing rather than a step towards treating our trauma. We ought to strive for less shame about our depressions and more accepting of trying to heal our wounds.
At the beginning of the conference, everyone’s intro was similar in some way or another. What brought you here, to this very unique but kind of odd space? There was a lot healthy initial skepticism, shaped by our past and how the diaspora had treated us.
“Listen…. I never really liked Afghans. I don’t have any Afghan friends. But I really like you all.” Laughter and smiles ensue.
We should not dismiss the re-entrance into our diaspora, to be part of something constructive. That’s the hard road to take because for every person at this conference, there’s a sibling or cousin who rejects his or her community. He or she refuses to fully embrace who they are because they were dismissed or rejected. Like Big Sean said, you took an L but we all bounced back.
For the rest of us, the choice was simple. Fight or flight. Fight to make our community better, or run away from it forever. It’s on us to do that. We’re equipped with the know how and the energy. We can sit there and condemn our own. Or we can stand up and fight for what’s right. To include our halfsies, our queer brothers and sisters, our Afghans with disabilities, those who have married Peruvians and Pakistanis and African Americans. To stamp out sectarianism and bigotry amongst our own. To include all folks of all professions, to champion our janitors as much as we celebrate our doctors. If we don’t fight, we’ll keep fleeing for the rest of our lives.