I had been at my previous job for seven long years. After years of working in a job that required non-stop traveling and losing connections with family and friends, I had decided I wanted to put down roots and try to have a "normal" life. I had decided to move away from the beautiful and traditional Deep South to the fresh Pacific air of the West. When I was interviewing for jobs in the Bay Area in July of 2014, I half-jokingly told recruiters that the biggest professional mistake I made was "to be born in the wrong country". We laughed because we knew what it meant: I was born in India and so I was cursed; destined to deal with the long, swirling python-like grip of the US immigration system that feeds this beautiful country with its enviable pool of global talent, its fresh blood, its new energy.
I have fought hard and pushed with all my might, but this python has me in its jaws now. My heart has stopped today, I have died inside this metal cage, this shell of material comfort. I have struggled for long to be a part of history, I have worked tirelessly and made many sacrifices in the name of capitalism and American values, done my best to make a difference. I have done my best to adopt this country as my home, still I wait to be adopted back. My dreams and aspirations feel unreal and foolish today as I see broken pieces of a shattered dream all around me. The unfolding of events and the madness of the US Presidential election triggers a sinking feeling.
The elections are tomorrow and I should be voting. I have spent 15 years in this country after all and I have an opinion that I would like to share. However, I am not seen worthy of by the 5000 words that define who I am in this nation. If only I was born in Pakistan, Bangladesh, the UK, France or Germany, then I would have more rights as an American "person". I should have had my green card a long time ago, and after a naturalization period should have been a citizen by now. But destiny decided to birth me in an urban enclave in India, so now I am now tasked with fighting this battle much against my will, but in sheer desperation. I am trying to make a life for myself after all, and dreams are not accomplished by those who give up.
Many people are surprised I am still on an H1B work visa and ask "What have you been doing for 14 years?". I laugh, I shrug it off. They tell me "There must be a way, have you talked to a lawyer?" I smile because I know there is nothing the most qualified lawyer could do. They tell me "I have a friend who also went to school in the US, studied in a STEM program and had her/his green card in 12 months" I raise my eyebrows and shrug my shoulders, "When are you getting married?" I smile again, because there is no one to be married to or share this misery with. Each month and every US Visa Bulletin brings false hope and teases with a taste of freedom.
2016 was going to be a special year. I would turn 36 and the stars would line up in my favor finally. But the year is now coming to an end, and with it, I am finding myself in the middle of a dark tunnel. I still see the light, but it feels even more dimmer and ever more distant. Worse, I can't tell if I am moving towards it or away from it. I feel like an astronaut suspended in space with one last burst of a jet that might take me to my spaceship, so I can land home safely, but I don't know whether my spaceship has any fuel left. A decade of being emotionally imprisoned in a crisis of "belonging" can be a shattering experience, more so when you have tirelessly worked your entire life to shape your future, when you have applied all your God given strengths of will and intellect. It is equal in cruelty to solitary confinement. Absence of a future in your adopted home will increase your cortisol level and reduce your life expectancy. It will give you sleepless nights. You might wonder how liberating it could feel if you just didn't wake up tomorrow, there would be nothing to fight for and nothing to fight against. You are patient, you talk yourself into it, allow your mind to wander into dark shadows and then you talk yourself out of it. It could perversely affect your life's priorities. It might destroy your social connections and rob you of your identity. Years of swallowing your pride and saying "yes" will do unexpected and twisted things to your self esteem. Not taking professional risks for a decade will cut your ambitions in half. Not being able to study higher while you wait for an immigration system to go though its motions will blunt your edge and take away your humor. A decade of waiting silently to start your own company will lobotomize the inner entrepreneur. Watching other people progress professionally and personally, getting ahead of you because they are not encumbered by the same shackles will only put your own misery in sharp focus make you twice as unhappy. You can be very positive and take inspiration from the likes of Gandhi and King, but in the end you are human. You have your own failings and faults. A decade and a half is a very long time and has a real human cost.
It is nobody's fault that this system is broken, anyone can see that. At the same time, it is wrong that a large and substantial section of this democracy is not being counted at all, its rights as citizens being denied. The H1B workers are human too. Just because they happen to be from a specific country is not their fault. They are here in this country as rightful participants in a vibrant economy. To apply artificial quotas based on country of birth make no sense if these quotas were not applied when they started their lives in this country as students or young professionals. These "workers" are not just "foreign workers". In time they have become "American workers", they are producers as well as consumers and they contribute to the GDP and to society around them. They bring a beautiful culture that adds to the beautiful tapestry of civilization in their adopted lands. The way they are being discussed in the public narrative makes me really sad, it does not make any sense at all. They are made to feel ashamed and unwanted despite being smart, hardworking and just wanting to make a life, trying to escape from their respective country, struggling to adjust and adapt, just like previous waves of US immigrants before them. Many of them also went to schools here and will often be found rooting for their college sports teams. They pay taxes, they pay social security, they live law-abiding lives, they contribute to society, they give to charities, but when it comes to exercising civil rights, they don't exist, their voice doesn't count. They are to be "limited", "exterminated", "contained", treated like vermin, their presence rejected, their friends sent back "where they came from", themselves under a constant stress of "being sent back". When you begin to see that this doesn't just affect a single individual, but an inter-related, correspondent social group and ecosystem, this issue becomes much larger. What's the best way to keep someone subdued? Keep their friends out, keep their families out, keep their emotional support system out, keep their culture and identity throttled, deny them any statuses or permanent arrangements, while keeping them running on a hamster wheel of promise. I will resist calling this by any archaic name, but this is an unfair situation where one group of people is unjustifiably and unnecessarily brutalized. In this case, they happen to be from the wrong country.
It's been a long run and I am tired. I would raise my voice and protest, ask for my civil rights, but what legal standing would I have? I would risk disappearing in a legal quagmire, never to surface again. My fight would be over before it could even start. So I must be quiet and I must endure this pain. It is humiliating, but it is the only way.
A little life is still left in me
A little fight is still left in me
I preserve this light
I keep it alive inside of me.
Titanic - Unable to stay, Unwilling to leave
