That line, "I didn't know I wasn't an American until I was sixteen and in handcuffs." Wow. What a great opening line for a story. Too bad it's a true story.
The sad/funny thing is that as the forward by Karen Korematsu reminds us, suffering injustice at the hands of her government in the name of "security" puts Adama in good company in American history. I wouldn't go so far as to say that her experience makes her "more American," but it certainly doesn't make her less so.
Though Adama's story is extreme, it also has many elements in common with the stories of countless immigrants in New York, past and present: detention (and fear of detention), working multiple jobs to support a family, discrimination, having to explain her customs to kids in school...a lot of this sounds familiar. While this story is appropriate for a book on post-9/11 America, it could also fit into a collection of stories about immigrant children. After all, how many teenagers only learn that they are undocumented when they are about to apply to college? The constant fear that that brings, I would imagine, is something akin to what Adama felt when she tried to board an airplane. Even having officials barge into her home in the middle of the night reminded me of stories I've heard about ICE raids. Last year I met an undocumented Haitian man that had to wear an ankle bracelet the way Adama did. So although there hasn't been (I hope) a rash of young girls being falsely accused of planning terrorist attacks, and although Adama's story is highly disturbing, it also strikes me as part of a pattern that dates back many years before 9/11.
You'll remember from class last semester the writer Harriet Jacobs. For comparison's sake, look at the opening line of her narrative: "I was born a slave; but I never knew it till six years of happy childhood had passed away."
ReplyDeleteAs American as apple pie.