“People are strange, when you’re a stranger.” – The Doors
The first time I became an expat, I was ten. My parents and I moved from Ukraine to the U.S. We bought a home in a quiet neighbourhood, and deer came to graze in our backyard. I nearly had a nervous breakdown when I discovered that the windows of our new house were OMIGOD NOT BULLETPROOF. Sounds hilarious now, doesn’t it? I got over the non-bulletproof thing eventually, and went on to have a pretty good life as an American, with no small thanks to Mama & Papa.
Moving to the Middle East for work, and occasionally going back to Ukraine (where my family is presently located), means that I’ve almost made peace with the fact that I will be, to some extent, a stranger everywhere. After all, being a stranger is can be made easier by being a white person with an American passport. I learned that even before I moved to Jordan.
While on a visit, I went to register at the local police station, and witnessed an officer shout abuse at a family of Iraqi refugees, then turn to me with a smile and ask me if I want a cup of tea in the same breath (!!!).
I ask readers to refrain from forming stereotypes of Jordanians based on that encounter, but I do wish to bring it up to highlight the fact that different people have different experiences, and mine is not the gospel.
Now if only people would stop assuming I’m soulless and sexually available to all and sundry…
You might think that the “soulless slut” thing only comes up in the ME, but in my native Ukraine and in Russia (I’m half Russian and my first language is Russian, if you’re wondering how it fits), some people think that women like me are nothing short of monsters.
There is a proprietary view of women’s bodies at work – “our” women should only be with “our” men, is the idea. I’ve been very sad about not being able to live in Kyiv at this point, because I’m scared that my boyfriend will get knifed for not looking white enough. I don’t wish to paint my native land as a country of racist barbarians, but being screamed at on a bus stop, reading news of racist attacks, and getting hate-mail has frightened me. I’m confident that things are getting better, but my exciting and colourful past is making me even more wary than the average person.
The last time my boyfriend and I were in Kiev (I use the Ukrainian and Russian spellings interchangeably) together, I dyed my hair dark so that we would attract less attention as a couple. It appeared to work. This made me think long and hard about being a stranger in the beloved and beautiful land of my birth. This is a special kind of pain. It’s like getting poked with a cold spoon under your ribcage.
Jordan comes with its own expat issues, especially for a woman. I can’t walk down the street in jogging pants and ratty t-shirt, without some guy expressing his delight. Generally people are non-threatening, and I therefore don’t mind, but I have been scared on a few occasions, scared enough to feel like I need a drink afterwards.
Being Slavic often does me no favours. People have told me they mistake my e-mails for sex-related spam. Some think it’s cool to be rude if they overhear me talking in Russian on my mobile. Hell, some think it’s cool to be rude if they decide I look Slavic enough. People can be… strange. But I’m not dyeing my hair dark again, dammit.
There is a problem of trafficking in this region, and the added problem of some people blaming the victims of trafficking for their own misfortune. There’s also the fact that some women come here to engage in sex work of their own volition, for a chance at a better life – and often do not have much in the way of rights. I highlight these problems specifically because many of the people involved are from the former USSR.
Compared to some of my fellow ex-Soviets, my life in Jordan is charmed. I’ve had the chance to challenge people’s notions about what it means to be a Slavic woman, for example. While I don’t represent anyone but me, myself, and I, I’ve had people tell me that by seeing me as a human being, they were forced to reconsider old stereotypes.
Above all else, I have the opportunity to work with and talk with people who have changed me for the better. And that is no small gift. No small gift it is also to walk the streets of my neighbourhood at dusk, ducking to avoid the jasmine branches brushing my face, and composing bad poetry to the beat of someone’s stereo playing “Enta Fen.”
My mother once told me that I was born in the day of the Archangel Raphael, the guardian of travelers, and the experiences of the past year make me wonder if there is truth to that. Of course, my mom also thinks I’m rootless and unfettered and (here’s that word again) strange. Maybe she’s right. Some of us don’t belong anywhere. I’d like to write about how globalization has contributed to the rise in our numbers, but my mind is too weary.
The bottom line is, we weird people out, we piss them off, but we are who we are and maybe there’s some purpose to that as well. Even the wisest cannot see all ends.
If you’re reading this and thinking of visiting Jordan for the first time, this is a good site to start with. If you’d like to visit Ukraine for the first time, I recommend starting with the Lonely Planet guide as well as this site. Ukraine, together with Poland, will host the Euro 2012, and I, for one, cannot wait. 😀