Becoming The Other: Finding My Place in a New Land.

Arriving in the United States felt like I had strolled into a movie where everyone knew their lines except me. Unusual rhythms filled the streets, the sky looked somehow larger, and the air had a different scent. I was the “other,” the one with an accent, the one who had to explain her location, for the first time, the source, the one that didn’t quite line up with the predetermined classifications. In my early years, my closest buddy was courage. I had to start from scratch with everything, from learning how to use systems to understanding how to express myself in this culture. High up where I could be seen and unseen concurrently. Sometimes I felt invisible, as though a rapidly moving world had devoured me without waiting for me. On most days, I felt like my individuality, rather than my true self, was being noticed.

Assimilating was difficult; keeping my origins was also tricky. I often found myself torn between being my genuine self and wanting to fit in. At times, I was struck by the profound loneliness that lingers in the silence of the night and stays in your heart. Still, there were small triumphs, such as the first time I spoke in a conversation and the first time I conquered a challenge unassisted. Fear initially helped me realize I could carve out a space for myself, even here.

Becoming the “other” helped me grow resilience in a way no other experience could. It showed me to be present, scan my surroundings, and embrace my uniqueness as a source of power. I slowly gave up trying to fit in and started instead to bridge who I was and where I was. Though this territory wasn’t my home in the same way Rwanda or Uganda was, it slowly shaped me piece by bit into a more robust individual. More grounded and aware than I could ever have anticipated.