My mom, Nasrin Waris {L} and grandmother, Nurjan Begum {R} in Bangladesh
Source: Tasfia Arshad
By Tasfia Arshad
Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji’un.
‘Surely to Allah we belong and to Him we will all return’.
At the time of her older brother’s death, all my mother could do was pray in her room and send money for his burial. Two years later, we were standing over his grave and she could no longer hold in her tears.
“If only God kept him alive for two years,” she cried hysterically, calling out to my uncle, her brother, who was named Ajad. “Ajad would’ve been so happy to see me.”
The reality finally set in. My mom has not been back to Bangladesh in 23 years. All this time, the only thing holding her back was a small piece of plastic that guaranteed her entry back into the United States: the green card.
Oftentimes, we hear the inspiring story of immigrants making their journey to a western country for a better life. Although these stories are inspiring, I want to focus here on a different story: my mother’s first trip back home.
Nasrin
My mother, Nasrin Waris, was 24 when she left Bangladesh. Before she embarked for the United States, she gave my grandma – her mother – a big hug and entrusted her with a key to a bank locker. She promised my grandma that she would be back in 6 months.
For reasons beyond her control, she wasn’t able to keep that promise.
My mother is my entire world. I can’t go a day without talking to her. Meanwhile, for all these years, she couldn’t see or hug her own mother. Because of an accident of timing, I got US citizenship at birth; but my sister, like our mother, did not even have legal residency status. I grew up hearing about her and my sister’s immigration struggles but I didn’t understand the gravity of the situation until I was a teenager.
My mother always took us on trips throughout the United States growing up. It wasn’t until I was 13 that I realized we’d never been out of the country.
I would always hear how lucky I was to be an American citizen.
What others perceived as luck, I internalized as guilt. How can I truly be happy with my legal status when the people I love most are so limited in their own life?
My mom was always aware of the different rights bestowed by my U.S. citizenship in contrast to the limitations posed by her status as a Bangladeshi national.
She relied on her ex-husband to renew their visa, but he never did. She and my sister overstayed their visas and by then they had no legal status in the United States.
“At that time, once you overstay your visa, and you are able to travel back to your country for six months and come back, you would be okay,” my mother said. “But I didn’t have the money to go and come back. So, I had no choice but to overstay.”
In an instant, my mother had to adapt and raise her daughters in a foreign country with very little knowledge of English. She worked in Brooklyn grocery stores that would pay her in cash.
“In my mind, I am not doing any crime, I just don’t have my papers. I am working and getting paid in cash,” she said.
But eventually, life caught up with her. After 9/11, immigration officials set up checkpoints throughout New York State. When I was three, my family took a trip to the Adirondacks. On our way back, we got caught in one of those checkpoints.
“I was stopped at a checkpoint, and they told me to get a lawyer,” she said.
Thankfully, border security did not arrest my mom, but they encouraged her to open up an immigration case.
Grappling with Reality
My sister, Tara, was 7, old enough to remember the fear she felt at that moment.
“I have a clear image of that day we got stopped in the Adirondacks and the trauma behind that day,” she said. “I was going to get taken away from my mom, we were going to get deported back to Bangladesh for being here ‘illegally.’”
Despite legal counsel, my mother was denied a green card. She was, however, approved for work authorization and social security.
Still waiting for full and permanent residency, days turned into weeks; weeks turned into 12 years. Her case remained stagnant. My mom thought that the transition from being a work authorization holder to a green card holder would be seamless.
The only way a green card would be guaranteed was if I applied for her once I became a legal adult. For her, that meant when I turned 18.
Throughout this period, my mom still had to make ends meet. With no family here, my mom only had me, my sister, and an abusive partner.
My parents’ relationship was extremely turbulent. They met a day before they were married and in the opinion of both of their families, they were a perfect match.
Boy, were they wrong.
There was never a day where there wasn’t an argument in the house. My mom tried to manage my father’s abuse and narcissistic behavior but after 18 years, she reached her limit.
In June 2013, my mom finally reached her breaking point. My father came home with one goal in mind: to hurt my mother.
“One of the horrible days of my life,” she said. “I wish that day never happened.”
With the support of me and my sister, she kicked my biological father out of the house and never let him control her again.
“I’m done. I’m done. The way he behaves… He could kill me one day.”
Our Family’s New Chapter
Looking back at the final years when my biological father lived with us, it all seems like a blur. One thing I vividly remember is the broken plates and glasses on the kitchen floor. It seemed like a tornado went through our house.
My mom was adamant in her decision and did everything in her power to not have to go back to my father. In addition to her job at a taxi dispatch company in Long Island City, she took on a part time cleaning job on the weekends.
Through all her long hours at work, she never lost her faith. The world had been so cruel to my mother which led me to have my own frustrations with God.
My mother, unlike me, never blamed God. “I never angry with God,” she said. “I always thankful to god. Maybe there is a reason I didn’t get my papers.”
She believes her faith in god and her unconditional love brought her a new husband, a man that treats her so well. After so many years, she was finally in a healthy relationship.
Unfortunately, my step dad was in the same immigration limbo as her. I was still her only hope.
“When you turned 18, I talked to an attorney and he said no it’s not 18, it’s 21” she said as she remembered that conversation. “I cried and cried but there was nothing I could do.”
I turned 21 on December 9, 2020. I submitted my I-130, Petition for a Alien Relative within days of my birthday, before the end of the year. After we submitted the application, it was all a waiting game.
I submitted a petition for my sister as well. Unfortunately, with the backwards U.S immigration system, siblings do not get a priority. For my sister, her struggles with her legal status have shaped almost every aspect of her life.
She realized that her legal status had a significant impact on her life when she was fired from her first job, at a Chuck E. Cheese because she had not yet received her official work authorization card in the mail from the federal government, even though she was legally allowed to work..
“That was the first taste of how my immigration status has affected me because I quite literally lost my job,” she said.
Her struggles led her to not trust many people which led her to confide in my mom on anything and everything. They have such a beautiful and unbreakable bond. Upon hearing the good news, she teared up and was so happy that my mom will finally be able to see my grandmother.
“I get to wake up every day and see my mom, my sister and my step dad,” she said. “Many of our extended family live here in the United States so I think it was necessary for my mom to get it first.”
Despite all the benefits of growing up in the U.S, my sister had to come to terms with the fact that she may never get to see my grandmother in person.
“I kind of accepted my fate, truly,” she said.
She acknowledges how lucky she is and all the opportunities she has had living in the states.
Yet, she still feels like “a prisoner to this country,” she said.
“I feel like I’m being a little selfish when I say that out loud but not being able to go in and out of this country takes a toll on you, I either have to rely on getting married or wait another five years,” my sister Tara said.
My sister will get her green card but there is no timeframe. Her quickest way of receiving permanent residency would be through marriage. Although she is in a relationship, she doesn’t know when she will be getting married.
Just like my mother, all my sister can do is wait.
My Uncle’s Tragic Death
I felt conflicted leading up to the petition submission. Part of me was so excited that there was a tangible route for my mother and sister receiving their green card. The next fear I had was, “How long would it take?”
My suspicions turned into anguish when I heard about my uncle’s passing the day after Thanksgiving in 2021.
My step dad texted me to come downstairs to their bedroom.
I walk into my mother crying into his arms. I was half asleep and I jolted awake when I saw her in that state.
It was real. My uncle passed away tragically en route to a hospital in Chittagong. My mother was sleeping and received over 10 miss calls from her siblings.
Some say it was a heart attack, others say it was a blood clot. It didn’t matter to me. All I saw was my mother broken and helpless.
My mother is constantly supporting my family in Bangladesh, sending home most of the money she earns. However, she had a soft spot for my uncle and his children. She saw his children as her own. And that is what broke my heart more.
As always, my mother didn’t think about her well-being first. She worried about my grandma, who always visited my uncle and his children. My mom didn’t want my grandma to get sick or go into a shock.
When she spoke to my grandma, she said, “My son is not dead, it can’t be. I can’t be alive and he’s dead, it can’t be.”
After that day, my mother cried in silence. She never showed us when she was sad and she didn’t want to talk about it.It was too difficult to face it.
Amar Shonar Bengal (My Golden Bengal)
Life moved on and we all learned how to cope in our own ways, but we continued to wait for my mom’s case to be approved.
The day finally came. Towards the end of September 2023, my step dad received a notification of an adjustment of status for my mother’s case.
A week later, we received her green card.
Things were moving so quickly. We bought our flight tickets the day my mother received her green card.
Everyone was elated. All we could talk about was preparing for the trip. My grandmother still couldn’t believe it.
We were all so nervous. We had about two weeks before our flight and the last thing anyone wanted was my grandmother to get sick. Funny enough, she had a cold a week before we arrived but didn’t tell us.
My mom started to buy jewelry, makeup, cotton towels, and clothes for her family and all our loved ones. She wanted to spoil everyone and shower them with gifts.
3 suitcases were filled with gifts.
Thankfully, my mother spared me one suitcase.
While we were preparing and packing, my heart was heavy. In the midst of all this excitement, we felt guilty about having to leave my sister behind. As happy as I was for my mom, I just wished I could bring my sister with me.
How is it fair that I get to see our grandmother without her?
I was anxious. I was scared that my family in Bangladesh would think I was too “American”. For my part, I yearned to be connected to my culture through my family.
My mother constantly reassured me that everyone will be so happy to see me and they are not going to want me to leave.
The day finally came. My sister and step dad dropped us off at JFK and we were about to travel for 24 hours and endure three flights.
We almost missed our connecting flight from Istanbul to Dhaka. Needless to say, we were both drenched in sweat by the time we made it to the gate.
After arriving in Dhaka, we both were so delirious but we needed to be alert for our local flight to Chittagong.
My grandma called when we landed in Dhaka and kept on referring to my mom as Kuku, a childhood nickname. She kept on asking “Is my Kuku here?”
We finally got on our 45 minute flight. My mom was awfully quiet and preparing herself for a whirlwind of emotions.
My mother’s siblings picked us up from the airport with a bouquet of flowers. My mom ran to my oldest aunt’s arms and everyone was bawling, including me.
We had about a 30 minute car ride back to my uncle’s home where my grandmother was waiting.
We got closer and closer and I got my camera ready because I needed to record this moment.
We got off the elevator and my mom ran to the door.
“Oh ma, oh ma, oh ma!” my grandmother screamed.
“I couldn’t sleep all night. I was so worried,” my grandmother said.
My aunts were in the background just crying. Everyone was in disbelief that we actually made it.
They don’t have to see us through a screen anymore. We can come back.
My grandmother was shaking for 10 minutes. I held her the entire time.
Nothing in my life will surpass that moment. We waited so long.
As we all gathered around the table to eat, someone was missing. We were all missing Ajad. He passed without seeing his sister. He would’ve been so happy to see us.
His children hugged my mother for 5 minutes straight and told her that “You are our dad.”
We were hurting as a family but we knew we would be okay. It is a pain that we learn how to endure, not forget.
As I cried, I turned over to my mom and told her, “Mom, we’re home.”
Nasrin Waris with her mother and siblings in Bangladesh 2023. Source: Tasfia Arshad