narrative nonfiction · nonfiction

The Newcomers: Finding Refuge, Friendship, and Hope in an American Classroom- Helen Thorpe

Helen Thorpe is a gift to the world of narrative nonfiction, and her latest work, The Newcomers: Finding Refuge, Friendship, and Hope in an American Classroom is another literary work of art.

Imagine you wake up one day to find that society around you is collapsing. Neighbors are pointing guns; soldiers are bombing. In order to stay alive, you must leave everything you’ve ever owned behind and run. On the way, you lose several family members, at least one of whom is murdered in front of you. You starve; you sleep outdoors in all kinds of weather; you suffer with untreated illness for months, and watch those you love succumb to it. Finally, finally, you receive word that you’ve been chosen to be resettled in the United States as a refugee, and just when you arrive, thinking that you’ve finally found safety and stability and that maybe life will get better, someone screams out the window at you that you’re a filthy terrorist, and that you need to get out of their country.

It’s not an uncommon experience for newcomers to the United States, unfortunately, and Helen Thorpe details the newcomer experience beautifully.

For about a year and a half, Ms. Thorpe followed the teenagers in the lowest level English Acquisition Class at South High School in Denver, Colorado. The students were all new to the US and had varying levels of English- some could make middling conversation, while others just stared blankly at the teacher, having had no prior experience with the language. Most students had seen trauma of some sort, whether being separated from family or struggling with PTSD due to escaping from war-torn nations. Many had lost loved ones, including parents; all had left family and friends behind, and all had lived in, at the very least, less-than-ideal situations (including refugee camps) before being some of the lucky few chosen to resettle in America.

Learning a new language is difficult in the best of circumstances; compound that with trauma and PTSD, struggling with an entirely new culture and way of life (some of these kids had never had electricity and running water), a new kind of poverty, and the constant stress of feeling unwanted in this new place, and it’s a damn miracle that any refugee manages to learn even a little English. The newcomers struggled and triumphed, flourished and slumped under the weight of heavy setbacks, but as they learned, they grew together, finding friendship and strength in a unique classroom full of students who understood exactly what their fellow students were going through.

Just following the students alone would have made a fine book, but Ms. Thorpe expands our knowledge of their world by interviewing their parents, their teachers, the interpreters she hired to better understand these newcomers, and their caseworkers. I knew that coming to the US wasn’t easy, but there was a lot of information in here that was new to me. While refugees are allowed benefits like food assistance and TANF (the program commonly thought of as welfare), they’re expected to be self-sufficient within a matter of months in regards to paying their own rent and other expenses. Imagine suddenly, with little to no warning, you’re plopped down in the middle of, say, China (or another country in which you have zero knowledge of the language). How soon could you master enough of the local language in order to be hired and make a living wage? Not within a handful of months, is the answer, I’m certain, in most cases. Refugees commonly end up working as hotel maids  and janitors, or in places like meat packing plants or factories, low-wage jobs in places where language skills aren’t necessary to perform (but that also hinders their ability to learn the language- if you’re not practicing it, and if you’re surrounded by others who speak your language and not the dominant one, your language acquisition will stall). Those low-wage jobs don’t have much room for growth built in, and thus, the refugee ends up trapped in a vicious cycle, with their only hope for upward mobility being their children, who tend to pick up the language more readily than adults.

This was a beautifully illustrated example of the wonderment, the hope, and the dark side of coming to America as a refugee, and a deeply moving look at what it takes to leave everything behind and dive right in to a new language and new culture. I used to volunteer as an English as a Second or Other Language tutor, and the students who attend those tutoring sessions are some of the most hardworking people you’ll ever meet. My former student had two children, often worked over 70 hours a week (you read that right, more than SEVENTY) at her restaurant job, took care of her apartment, and still managed to come to class and make me cry when she corrected herself with proper use of past tense verbs. When she got pregnant with twins, she cut her work hours down to 55 hours a week (at five months pregnant with TWINS, she was still working 55 hours a week ON HER FEET THE ENTIRE TIME). She and her husband moved out of my area right to a bigger place before the babies were born, and I still miss her. She was an extraordinary example of how hard refugees and immigrants are willing to work in order to make a better life for their families, and I’m all about welcoming these people and helping them do just that. Reading this book made me miss tutoring. I’m unable to fit it into my schedule at the moment, but one day I’d like to return to it.

This is Helen Thorpe’s third book, and I’ve read her others as well. Soldier Girls: The Battles of Three Women at Home and at War was fascinating. I’ve passed through some of the areas mentioned in this book and I always think about the women in it when I do. And Just Like Us: The True Story of Four Mexican Girls Coming of Age in America  was beyond wonderful. I read it this past year and have thought often of the young women featured in the book and wondered how they’ve been doing, what with all the unnecessary strife DACA recipients have been put through. If you’ve never read any of these books, you won’t be sorry you did. I’m very much looking forward to reading whatever Ms. Thorpe writes next.

Visit Helen Thorpe’s website.

Follow Helen Thorpe on Twitter.

nonfiction

Homeward Bound: Why Women Are Embracing the New Domesticity- Emily Matchar

Homeward Bound: Why Women Are Embracing the New Domesticity by Emily Matchar is a fabulous book that takes a deep dive into the heart of the modern DIY revival, its benefits, its drawbacks (oh yes, there are definitely drawbacks!), and the desperate need for balance when it comes to this societal endeavor at independence in all things.

What drew me to this book, if you can’t guess from the above image of the book with my knitting, is personal. I’m not of the class of women who quit (or lost) a corporate job and came home to wax poetic about the joys of canning pickled beets, but I am at home for multiple reasons. I have a young child (and an older one); I have several health conditions that, while not bad enough to qualify me for disability, make my ability to function physically unpredictable at best (especially at physical jobs); I’m one of those people who slipped through the cracks when it came to higher education- family’s income was too high to receive help, my grades were great but not great enough to qualify me for scholarships, and those health conditions made me terrified of taking out loans to get through school only to find myself unable to work and thus unable to repay my loans. And thus I’m at home, participating in many of the activities Matchar describes in this book.

Matchar examines the New Domesticity that took hold during the recession that began in 2007, but that I think really began to root itself in American culture after September 11th; it was then that knitting blew up and recipes for comfort food began appearing in every cookbook and early food blog. Americans in particular were searching for something that felt stable, cozy, encouraging, and life-giving, and what better than the soft, gentle pleasures of home. Enter the recession, and suddenly the necessity of these skills became immediate and widespread. “…the resulting DIY culture does rest heavily on female shoulders,” Matchar writes, and if you’re familiar at all with the almost entirely female food/craft/homemaking blogosphere, you’ll agree.

The reasons for the return to home are many, and Matchar scrutinizes them all, from the lack of satisfaction so many women experience at jobs that don’t support them as caregivers and people who have lives outside of work, to distrust of the food, medical, and educational systems in the US, to the desire to live more in harmony with nature for various reasons (lessening one’s carbon footprint, taking care of the earth for religious reasons, etc), to the need to be frugal due to lack of income. Matchar finds that a not insubstantial amount of women who return to home and hearth ‘may simply be rationalizing their decision to make the best of a bad economic decision,’ and I don’t disagree. It’s not always easy living on one income (especially in areas with higher costs of living), but when you can fill your days with bread baking, making your own cleaning supplies, taking care of chickens, and homeschooling the children, it gives you what feels like a higher purpose.

She criticizes, rightly so, the dreamy nostalgia assigned to the world of our grandparents and great-grandparents, where things were supposedly better and people ate fresh, healthy, home-cooked food at every meal (for real, have you SEEN old recipes? Take a gander through The Gallery of Regrettable Food, with hot dogs and onions suspended in celery-flavored aspic, where slithery canned vegetables lie gray on the plate nearby, and you might change your mind), and how apparently no one ever got sick (dinosaurs got cancer as well, diphtheria took out entire families and could fill up entire cemeteries in an astonishingly short time). She doesn’t deny that there are problems with many of the systems that are meant to protect us, but instead points out that when too many people opt out, choosing only to take responsibility for that which is right in front of them, there’s no one left to fight for those who aren’t privileged enough TO opt out. And of course, the dangers of women opting out are well-known; when the partner who is earning the paycheck no longer provides that income due to divorce, illness, or death, the woman is oftentimes left to struggle in less than ideal circumstances.

“New Domesticity is, at heart, a cry against a society that’s not working,” Matchar opines, and I agree. There needs to be a better system in place so that parents feel supported enough to be able to remain in the workplace, along with much better work-life balance- we already know that these things make for happier, more productive employees, but so far, the political will necessary to effect such changes has been sorely lacking in our pro-corporation, employees-are-expendable culture. I don’t know if we’ll see changes to this system in my lifetime, or even my daughter’s (she’s four), and that depresses me. Maybe by the time my grandchildren or great-grandchildren are entering the workforce, their country will realize that you can’t work people like robots. Holing up on a rural farm may sound nice in theory, but on a grander scale, the practice falls flat; a technology-based society like ours cannot survive infinitely on people selling each other eggs.

This book spoke deeply to me. I knit, sew, can/freeze/dry food, cook almost everything we eat from scratch, we garden and compost, I’ve homeschooled in the past (not as an opt-out-of-the-system thing, but more as a way to provide stability to my son’s education at a time where we moved around a lot). I make my own cleaning supplies, have figured out how to feed a family of four on about $60 a week, breastfed my daughter, cloth diapered for a good portion of her diaper-wearing days, and even as I type this, I have laundry hang-drying on indoor racks. It’s how I contribute, since I haven’t been able to contribute in a financial sense. It’s something I’m deeply conflicted over, and something I’ve never been totally comfortable about. I saw myself in many of the women profiled in the book, but I also found myself nodding vigorously as Matchar pointed out the flaws in the overarching philosophy of the New Domesticity. While I still don’t have any concrete answers as to how I could make opting in work in my particular situation, reading about so much of the ins and outs of my life and what I’ve long considered its weaknesses felt redeeming.

This is a great book and I cannot recommend it highly enough.

Visit Emily Matchar’s website here.

mmd challenge 2019 · reading challenge

A reading challenge for 2019

In the past, I haven’t been much for reading challenges. I’ve always been more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants, what’s-new-at-the-library-this-week kind of reader, and over the past two years, I’ve been more of a why-is-my-Goodreads-want-to-read-list-THAT-long-let’s-read-it-down kind of reader. But after feeling a bit bloated on nonfiction from that, I’ve decided to jump right in with a 2019 challenge that will hopefully shake up my reading life a little.

Enter the 2019 Modern Mrs. Darcy Reading Challenge. This seems doable, doesn’t it? Even for the most challenge-resistant, like me. 😉

I already have some books from the library on a topic that fascinates me, and I guess another one of those books in my stack (which came from my Goodreads Want to Read list) count as a book I’ve been meaning to read, so I’m already off to a good start, I think!

Are you planning on any challenges this year?