Mullis: Immigrant stories remind us of who we are

I’ve been working as a coach for the Hispanic Heritage Month’s storytelling showcase.

The topic was “Journeys” and the tellers were Latino and Hispanic.

One of my close friends is from Mexico. Her English has progressed over our decade-long friendship while my Spanish remains nonexistent outside of “globo,” the Spanish word for balloon. Her son loved balloons as a toddler and I loved his smile. Bringing him a “globo” made us both happy.

We speak slowly to each other, searching for the right English words. Sometimes we use 20 words to express a word that has no linguistic equivalent. Those are the times we rely on eyes and hands and corners of the mouth. A grin, a gesture, a wink.

At first, we talked about children and cooking. We are both moms and had kids at the same school. It didn’t take long to learn we had a similar sense of humor and outlook on life. Our casual conversations turned into confidences between friends. One day she told me about her journey to America. It was humbling. This lady I felt I had so much in common with had strength I didn’t possess and grief I didn’t know.

I thought about her as I approached this showcase. Our relationship had to mature before that story could emerge. These tellers would be in a public space.

I always advise storytellers to share only what they are ready to share. This seemed especially important with this showcase. Journeys can be fascinating, but for many immigrants, the journey here is painful and dangerous, undertaken only because staying was even more painful and dangerous.

As I helped tellers prepare journey stories for the public, they began to share intimate journey stories with me. Sometimes English failed us, but I could read the wet eyes and determined brows. They missed home. They sacrificed much. They intended to succeed.

A lot has been written about our country’s borders and who should get to cross them. I know our immigration policy is a mess. I understand terrorism is real. But the majority of folks who come here embody qualities we prize as Americans.

Most of them are brave. They have to be. It takes a lot of courage to leave everything behind for the possibility of something better. And that courage doesn’t end with their arrival. It continues with learning another language, seeking work that often is beneath their skill set, advocating for their children in an unfamiliar culture.

Most of them are kind. A kind stranger can be a game-changer for an immigrant. Perhaps this search for people who are patient and gracious engenders such patience and graciousness in them. The immigrants in my life are some of the most reflexively kind people I know, quick to lend a hand, set an extra plate, offer a word of encouragement.

Most of them are industrious. Many I have met are entrepreneurs. They push education for their children, they save money, they want to “become.” If you are looking for resilience, it’s easy to find in them. They have struggled too much to take anything for granted, whether a kindness, an education, or an opportunity. This is the raw material of the American dream.

Outside of Native Americans, we all have an ancestor who endured much to make a home in America – a home comfortable enough for their descendants to forget the struggle.

Hearing the stories of today’s immigrants can remind us of who we are.

Nicole L.V. Mullis is the author of “A Teacher Named Faith.” You can reach her at nlvm.columns@gmail.com or www.NicoleLVMullis.com.