My name is Nora Hussein I would like to provide a slightly different account on the topics of refuge, belonging and integration, as I believe the issues are very closely linked.
I am a second generation British Somali female, currently living in London. My father first came to the UK in the early sixties as a migrant worker and was later joined by my mother in the early seventies. I consider myself to be British born and bred, and yet I have a strong affinity and link to my ‘home' country Somalia: a country that I have only visited for barely two weeks in my entire thirty years - a country, which ever since I have been old enough to comprehend, has been embroiled in turmoil and civil war. And yet when I was there in 1999, although amenities were very basic, and life in general on a completely different par to what I was accustomed to, I encountered a strange sense of belonging.
All I knew about this far off and distant country were the fanciful stories that my parents regaled to me as a child. Add to this a highly active imagination and you have the basis of an African Narnia story. After my visit, I found myself on a journey of self reflection about my experiences. What it is that makes people feel that they belong to a society. What is it exactly that makes someone feel comfortable in a place where they may not have lived previously. What is it that makes a place somewhere someone can call home?
I work with refugees, many of whom have suffered ill treatment both abroad and here, and I ask at what point do they feel they legitimately belong in this country? Is it when they have been here for two, five ten years? Is it when they get a piece of paper to say that they can stay here indefinitely, or a little red book measuring 5cm x 10cm and swear allegiance to the queen? Maybe this never happens. Consider my father who has been here for nearly fifty years. When I posed this question to him he simply said ‘ Inantaydiyee (an affectionate name for a daughter) my head is here but my heart is there'.
People find it quite strange when they ask me where I am from and I reply Somalia, especially when they realise that I was born ‘up north' in Middlesbrough. But for me it is not a question of favouring one over the other, but a conscious response to a question where people would generally expect a different answer. For me it is about being sure of who I am.
I find it very irritating when people perceive where they have migrated from as inferior, and I have encountered on many occasions this culture of disassociation. All this does however is perpetuate and feed into an ideology that everything western/English/American is superior and this is the lead that we should all be following and aspiring to. I am very proud of being British as well as my Somali origins and I feel I am fortunate to have two cultures that I can identify with and firmly say that I belong to. And I think this is exactly the point. I believe that refugees and migrants in general have to give themselves legitimacy in proudly saying who they are, but also being proud of where they originated from. People have to give themselves permission to feel they belong to a society, even if everyone else says they shouldn't.
When in Somalia, I stood out like a sore thumb even though I looked like and tried to dress like everyone else. But I gave myself permission to belong, to be part of, and to immerse myself in that society. I know it is fairly simplistic to say just thinking you belong will actually make you do so, but I think that someone's mindset is of extreme importance and shouldn't be dismissed. If you act like a victim in the playground more often than not you'll get bullied. I use the same analogy here.
I firmly believe that only you define who you are, and people can only seek to try and influence that. The problems start to occur when you yourself are confused.
