Involuntary Immigration

Summary

Marietta Arce reflects on the personal and emotional aspects of involuntary immigration, drawing parallels between her own past and the current plight of Ukrainian refugees.

Abstract

Marietta Arce discusses the impact of involuntary immigration, both in her life and in the context of the Ukrainian crisis. She recounts her personal experience of leaving an abusive marriage in 1984, fleeing with minimal possessions to start anew in New York. This personal history resonates with her as she watches the displacement of Ukrainians, feeling a deep empathy for their plight. Arce acknowledges the challenges refugees face, including violence and the struggle to adjust to new environments. She contrasts her supported immigration experience with the struggles of those who lack such support. Despite feeling helpless, she contributes to the cause through prayer, donations, and maintaining her immediate community, while recognizing the limitations of her influence at 66 and living in Central America.

Opinions

Household help is seen as both a blessing and a curse, providing convenience but also invading privacy.
Personal acts of cleaning bring a sense of accomplishment and pride.
The author feels a profound connection to the Ukrainian refugees, empathizing with their need to flee and the courage it requires.
She expresses a sense of helplessness in the face of the refugee crisis but believes in the power of welcoming communities.
The author values the support she received during her own immigration experience and hopes for similar support for Ukrainian refugees.
She criticizes the inhumanity of the situation but also acknowledges the importance of maintaining one's mental health and focusing on what can be controlled.

by Marietta Arce

My time is limited. Real life gets in the way of my writing. Covid-19 put an end to having a cleaning person come in weekly to do chores. I have been doing the work and it takes a chunk of my time. Having household help is a blessing and a curse. A blessing because I can afford it and it helps the economy. A curse because I don’t enjoy the invasion of privacy it brings with it. I feel wonderful (but tired) every week when I finish dusting, sweeping and mopping. Joy and pride are mine because I know detailing has taken place because I have done it!

Whenever I am cleaning, I like to turn off the radio because the work is mundane and my mind feels free to visit events of the past or conversations long forgotten. Last week as I was mopping, I began to relive events in my life in 1984 when I was 28 years old. The memories were prompted by the horrors of Ukraine and Russia and how people have to flee from their homes because they are not safe. In 1984, I abandoned an emotionally abusive husband by running away with just the clothes on my back and the few items I was able to throw in the trunk of my car. It was the hardest thing I ever did in my life but I had courage (or maybe desperation) and youth on my side. I had secretly saved up enough money to buy an airplane ticket and arrived at my parents’ home in New York to safety, to the promise of a new beginning in familiar surroundings. I have never been able to thank my parents enough for the guarantee I had that I would always be welcomed home.

Refugees from Ukraine have no idea what will greet them. Many have already met with violence and death. Others have been welcomed to countries and communities that they will need to adjust to and vice versa. I find I cannot even begin to put myself in their shoes. My heart is squeezed to its limit watching the horrors unfold on television. Helplessness and paralysis are what I experience. I do what I can (pray, donate, keep busy, avoid social platforms) to help and then tend to my immediate circle of influence because my joining a protest or becoming deeply depressed over the inhumanity isn’t going to help anyone. What else can I do? At 66 and living in Central America there isn’t much I can really do besides what I mentioned above.

My mother used to say that people went to other countries in search of a better life. When we left Costa Rica for the U.S. we were equipped with our green cards because we were fortunate that my father’s employer was opening a New York branch of his office and they sponsored us all. My father arrived to New York six months before we did. He found an apartment in Brooklyn and signed a lease. By the time we arrived, he was settled and welcomed us in a safe and warm environment. Not every immigrant or refugee has this experience. It is my hope that the brave Ukranians will eventually be able to go home again and begin to rebuild their country. In the meantime, I hope they are being welcomed like family wherever they land currently. The pictures shared on social media confirm my faith in humanity.