I was born (in mid-seventies) in a nation that does not exist anymore—Soviet Union. Nowadays I’m a citizen of Azerbaijan but I have lived in the United States for the last fifteen years. Although I have never become a refugee, I had the chance to observe and interview refugees in Azerbaijan and later work closely with refugees who come to America. In Azerbaijan, we have a lot of refugees from Armenia who lost their land in the war between Azerbaijan and Armenia.
Later in life, the Lord brought me into a context where I met and began to work closely with refugees, this time in another nation, the U.S. As a Christian minister in Reformed tradition, I teach and care for refugees and immigrants landing in Michigan so that they may adjust to the local culture well and meet their daily needs. Often, I sense that Spirit uses my experiences in Azerbaijan and my becoming an immigrant as a gateway into my current ministry; serving refugees and immigrants on behalf of Christ who commissioned us to be ambassadors of hope.
Here I share some cultural practices I learned living as an immigrant minister in the U.S. and working with refugees in southwest Michigan. Perhaps you know these practices—I simply spotlight them with the perspective of an immigrant minister. If you are an American, dear reader, I hope what I share here will make you more sensitive in your interactions with refugees and immigrants. If you are an immigrant or refugee, dear reader, I hope what I write will help you to not feel lonely in your confusion and disorientation because we (that is, immigrants and refugees) all go through that disorientation and confusion when it comes to interactions with the people of the land that we choose to call a second home.
Anecdote #1. Look into my eyes
When I was in seminary, a close friend of mine, who also was a teacher in seminary, invited me to share my journey to Christian faith with his students. I agreed. When the time came, he introduced me to class and invited me to step up and speak. So, I stood up, moved to where he showed me and spoke about my faith. I shared with students about my family history and my search for God. During the speech, I felt pretty good. I had the chance to teach in university back in Azerbaijan so I thought it would be a piece of cake for me. I thought I did pretty well until after the class my teacher friend brought to my attention that I did not make enough eye contact with the students. At first, I thought he was joking. “Why does that matter,” I thought. Then he taught me something that woke me up to different ways each culture sustains communications between its own members. He told me that in America people are expected to make frequent eye contact when they speak to each other. Otherwise, the listener may become suspicious if the eye contact is not frequent enough or its duration is too short. It might give the impression to listeners that the speaker is hiding something. I was shocked. I had never thought that the frequency of eye contact and its duration might be a culturally conditioned behavior. Before that, I knew that personal space between people is culturally defined. But, eye contact? That was quite new.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that his comments made sense. In Azerbaijan, people do not make as frequent or straight eye-contact as many Americans do. In fact, some rules actually encourage behavior that avoids eye contact with dialogue partners in certain circumstances.
So, there it is my friend! Before you pass judgment on people simply because of the way they look at you, just think about how much of their looks might be conditioned by their culture.
Anecdote #2. What does “How do you do” mean?
When I arrived in the U.S. and began to interact with people, I used to speak as if I’m speaking to people from Azerbaijan. Of course, I spoke English following all the grammatical rules, making sure that I pronounced words correctly. But I did not see any significant socio-linguistic difference between English usage in America and language usage in Azerbaijan. However, after some time I noticed that when I answered individuals’ questions about how I was doing or what’s happening in my family, they slowly became fidgety. Then they seemed to lose interest while I still continued to respond to their question. I occasionally wondered why they would ask me, “How do you do?” if they seemingly lost interest while I answered.
A few months after observing similar reactions from people, I mustered the courage to ask an American friend about this peculiar behavior. He suggested that we role-play and create a similar situation for him to gain insight into people’s reactions. So, he asked me the usual question of, “how do you do” and I went on to answer him as I would do. A few minutes later, he interrupted me. He said when people ask you, “How do you do?” they don’t really mean to ask how you really do. It is a way of greeting and not necessarily a way of learning how you are really doing. I, however, growing up in a culture where people devote relatively significant time to greeting one another and hearing detailed news about each other’s lives, took their question literally. I responded the way I would answer in my native language: detailed sharing of information about my family and myself that would take a longer time than most Americans would be willing to grant.
In the end, I got used to the reality that in America the question, “How do you do?” really does not mean what it explicitly says. Through that confusion, I began to learn socio-linguistic differences in English and Azerbaijani. Grammar and correct pronunciation are just tips of the iceberg. A refugee or immigrant also has to learn how to use the language effectively within the social norms of society and that takes years to master.
Broadened Perspectives
Experiences similar to those that I shared above shaped my life in America. I learned to see it as a mixed blessing. For an immigrant or a refugee, life in America is not just about alienation or racism or loneliness. Those realities act as a part of the story but at least in my story of immigrating to America, they don’t take center stage. I refuse to reduce my immigrant experience and its complexity to a simple, single narrative or perspective that covers everything like a blanket. Instead, I see my life in America as testing and growing through which my perspectives broaden and I connect more deeply to people of the whole world.
Think about it for a minute. Who do you think would be able to connect fully to multilayered realities of life and sense the world: the individual who speaks two languages, lived in two or three countries, experienced ups and downs of life in several societies or an individual who has never left his state, or city or town, or neighborhood? I bet the first individual can sense and see life in more depth than the second one.
Where am I going with this? Well, next time when you interact with an immigrant or a refugee, slow down for a moment. Try to see the treasure hidden in a clay jar as he or she is also God’s image like you. Who knows? Maybe God will broaden your perspectives through that encounter.