My parents often talked about coming to America with a portmanteau from Nigeria.
I imagine that her suitcase was full of hopes, dreams and expectations, and in many ways I have the feeling that this suitcase with wishes and things was metaphorically given to me on the day I was born. It would be my burden now to bear and understand them.
But when I opened this portmanteau, I found that the clothes didn't quite fit and there were notebooks full of expectations that I would never meet.
Although I was in awe of this great object and the hands that had passed this legacy on to me, I wasn't sure I could carry everything that was in it.
I think this is the dilemma of every child in a household full of hope and expectation, and especially for the immigrant child it is often one of the determining questions of our existence. The idea of having a burden to carry even when you're not sure you want to carry it … I can't think of a more spiritual quest than this.
We know only too well that there is so much more to this portmanteau than just a simple hope or a wish. We often find that here or there there are unreconciled feelings, trauma, grief, and a firm belief in what is right and what is not. So the question for the immigrant child and any child who knows what it is like to come from a family that has many challenges is: what should I keep?
To sift through all of this, I had to rediscover who I really am on my way to recovery, especially as the daughter of Nigerian immigrants. Notice how I say “daughter,” which means I have to deal with a gender reality where I am clearly part of a larger entity. So these words – daughter and immigrant – imply that there is a relationship between several parties with different understandings.
If that wasn't enough to deal with Nigeria, the most populous nation in Africa, who has given birth to many people who are committed to improving their lives in service of a vision that goes beyond themselves … well, that lets me know that I come from a place where people fire their inner light.
And like every place, this country that flows through my veins gave birth to people who could not see beyond their fears and who decided (knowingly or unknowingly) to feed their inner demon.
All of us, no matter where we come from and what we know or don't know about our particular origins, have to deal with the fact that our family histories often bear light and shadow. Then of course I have to acknowledge that all of this complexity has been passed on to me. This was the true beginning of my recovery as I understood that I came from the very best experiences humanity has to offer and the worst.
And let's not forget that we are immigrants living in the US, which means that we are now primarily black. So my life – like many of my colleagues – is a life of many understandings that converge into one.
In my life I have always had friction between what I expected and what I really am. In a way, the expectations I turned against have reduced me to my most vulnerable spots, where I had to face who I wanted to be.
In a previous reflection, I wrote about this vulnerability and exposure that led me to unleash a certain expectation that was expected of me in my family regarding religion.
“If the God you are supposed to love is either an animal or has miserably withdrawn from the deepest movements of your heart, you can be brought to life. I will never forget the day my father prayed over my clothes. I was fifteen or sixteen years old, had a rapid growth spurt and experimented with makeup, bare diaphragms, and platform shoes. One afternoon my father stood there as a mighty patriarch offering a prayer for all members of the family. Finally he said to me: "Oh God, please take the spirit of looseness away from Itoro." … I longed to be close to my parents and to my culture, but I also wanted a life without denial and religious absolutism. Where I could feel at peace for who I really was "
Religious tensions were one of the many reasons why I imagined a life beyond the cultural expectation that a good daughter would stay close to her home.
It is a code that many families live by in hopes that they will overcome all arguments and differences and "make it work". For the immigrant family, this code of ethics is often vital. If we don't all support each other, who will? But really … who will?
In short, there was something bigger at stake that I needed to preserve, and it seemed to boil down to choosing family or the opportunity to become who I really am.
The idea that a good daughter would stay close to her home and not disrupt the family unit was a great expectation, especially because I had a need for independence from a young age. Everyone would be sitting in the living room and watching a movie or gathering and I would dance upstairs or listen to music.
It is possible to love where you are from and still want to be free from the expectations you have to bear and sometimes it is necessary to let go of everything.
And there was a lot more to let go. As I followed the little voice that wanted independence, I began to define who I am in the present:
A daughter calls her mother once a week and occasionally sends pictures from her travels abroad. A daughter will find a new home and adopt a chosen family while warmly welcoming the family she was born into. A daughter will get married (or not) when the time is right for her and not a minute earlier … the same goes for a child. And a daughter is still the daughter of Nigerian immigrants, perhaps a daughter who lived up to her own standard. Amen.
In my own experience, we are often complimented on our ability to carry a heavy burden. As black women, we often receive awards for our ability to do this and to go beyond our share.
For me, the ability to maintain relationships that may not be healthy, carry cultural expectations and are achieved at a high level was the marker of strength, which means doing something different, showing weakness.
However, I think that my real strength depends on who I really am and who I have always been, is not the archetypal superwoman who can do everything. I was always more sensitive and gentle and for me this is my strength. My strength lies in the ability to reduce the burden and give up any expectations that would compromise my sense of integrity.
Where do we go from here?
The answer to how can we break free may be simple (i.e., just let go), but we know that the task of actually letting go is difficult. A migrant I knew years ago said: "I've had to let go of so much … how much more change can a person endure?" It takes a long time to give up the charge, especially when there is so much hope in it.
Here are three reflection questions that could help you let go:
What about my humanity that I have to embrace, challenge and share?
I think before you can become who you are supposed to be it is also important to know where you are from and what you want to keep from your upbringing.
In my special embodiment as a first-generation Nigerian, it is important to me to appreciate this part of my story while making the necessary changes to broaden my perspective.
I think this question requires that you really become aware of your habits and identify the ego stories that need to go.
After years of sitting with myself, I realized that I was addicted to my fear. As a young girl, I always worried that I was doing something wrong and that the adults in my life would be mad. Worrying about not being enough was an integral part of my design, so important that I wasn't entirely sure who I would be without it. It had shaped me all my life so that the feeling of illness was my familiar state of being. But as I kept confronting myself, I realized that it might be familiar, but certainly not natural.
I was given the choice: Do I want to keep it or let it go?
Take the time to do this, and if you are working with a therapist or support group this may be a good question to work on in your process. I think of Eckhart Tolles quote, how I approach this question,
“Essentially, you are not inferior or superior to anyone. Real self-worth and real humility emerge from this realization. “So this question is a tool to help you be honest with yourself and explain who you are. What is the truth you gotta tell
What did carrying this burden teach me about myself?
I think this is explanatory, but to use myself as an example as I carried this burden, I realized the stress and resentment that had built up in my life. I also realized that I wasn't exactly sure who I was without it. More importantly, I realized that there were actually things in the suitcase that I wanted to keep and integrate into my new way of working. So, in a way, the cargo wasn't all bad and not all good.
What do I really want?
It took me decades to answer this question. Some people come from the womb and understand their place in the world and their desires, but for many people we often have other people's desires and desires as blueprints for what we believe we want. But if there was no one there to confirm or invalidate your hopes and dreams and this was a conversation between you and your soul, what would it be?
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Hope this helps in some ways as letting go is complicated and sometimes we just need the right tools and questions to get there.
About Itoro Bassey
Itoro Bassey is a Nigerian-American writer, mindfulness practitioner, and educator. She is the founder of the digital course From Survival to Thrive: Becoming Your Own Inner Writer. This course uses writing and energy work to bring students into the present moment. She has published on culture, identity, and healing for over ten years and now offers intuitive counseling sessions for those in need of assistance. Follow her on Instagram or contact her at [email protected].
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