{"id":9159,"date":"2022-06-27T10:38:15","date_gmt":"2022-06-27T08:38:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/themarkaz.org\/oldsite\/?p=9159"},"modified":"2022-12-25T11:22:51","modified_gmt":"2022-12-25T09:22:51","slug":"why-i-left-lebanon-and-became-a-transitional-citizen","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/themarkaz.org\/oldsite\/why-i-left-lebanon-and-became-a-transitional-citizen\/","title":{"rendered":"Why I left Lebanon and Became a Transitional Citizen"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"
Tom Young, “Port Explosion,” Beirut, Lebanon, 2020 (courtesy Tom Young<\/a>).<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

\u00a0<\/h4>\n

Myriam Dalal<\/h4>\n

 <\/p>\n

I booked an appointment for my passport renewal earlier this year, while my sisters continued to update me on what might be described as a \u201cpassport shortage crisis\u201d in Lebanon. All three Dalal sisters were bombarding our WhatsApp group with links to article headlines such as \u201cNo means to leave<\/a>\u201d, \u201cLebanon running out of passports<\/a>,\u201d \u201cThousands stuck as Lebanese authorities suspend passport renewals<\/a>\u201d or \u201cLebanon halts passport renewals as fears of exodus grow<\/a>.\u201d We discussed the alternatives, we argued, we cursed, we shouted (mainly through voice notes). I might be the one with the lowest level of anxiety among my sisters, even when I\u2019m the one they\u2019re worried about these days in the paperwork fiasco. Simply put, this anxiety can be tied to the fact that my parents had all five of their children between 1976 and 1986 in either Lebanon, the UAE or Kuwait \u2014 depending on the progression of the Lebanese civil war since 1975 \u2014 so my sisters and I have been through one life experience after the other, both as a family (there are only four of us, now), and as Lebanese citizens, namely surviving the 1996 and 2006 Israeli wars on the country and some 60 other \u201csmaller\u201d inter-Lebanese conflicts and violent events from car bombs to terrorist attacks and beyond.<\/p>\n

\n

I\u2019ve moved in and out of at least seven different places since the August 4th Beirut Port blast, nearly two years ago\u2026maybe more. I\u2019ve lost count. I had left Lebanon because I came to realize that this country that I was told was mine, actually wasn\u2019t. This understanding felt more like an aha moment, in which I became aware that an institutional\/governmental declaration asserting your adherence to some country would not guarantee your feeling of belonging to this piece of land that your parents passed on to you. Lebanon was not my country, it belonged to someone else, and it was something I saw very clearly in the year preceding my departure. The thing is, once you see something, you cannot unsee it \u2014 I love it when the English language proves the impossibility of such an act by showing you the absurdity in using the verb\u2019s contrary\u2026you know, like unlove<\/em>.<\/p>\n

\n

I think that it is a spiritual disaster to pretend that one\u00a0doesn\u2019t<\/em> love one\u2019s country. You may disapprove of it, you may be forced to leave it, you may live your whole life as a battle, yet I don\u2019t think you can escape it.\u00a0 \u2014James Baldwin, Paris Review<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

I started looking at the concept of \u201chome country\u201d as more of a starter kit, one that your parents are forced to give you at birth, for administrative reasons and to facilitate your upbringing, and one that includes your name, surname, and religion. The time will eventually come when you\u2019ll be able to make your choices and continue the remainder of your life with a name, a surname, a religion, and a nationality that you choose for yourself.<\/p>\n

A \u201cnation\u201d is not a fact; it\u2019s a concept. That\u2019s why philosophers, sociologists, and many others have tried to define it throughout history: for German philosopher Johann von Herder, the nation refers to a cultural ensemble which precedes the creation of the state, while for French historian and philosopher Ernest Renan, the nation brings together people who share a common past. I now think of the nation as more of a sociopolitical construct which feeds on tribal instincts, and a systemic institutional invention to separate, isolate, and eventually rule . We tend to mix up words and meanings sometimes for the sake of simplifying our terminology and expressions, and in so doing , we end up assuming that one thing undeniably means the other. As such, nationality doesn\u2019t necessarily mean belonging, nor does motherland mean birth country; I, for instance, was born in Kuwait, a country in which my parents spent most of the Lebanese civil war years. So, in this case, my birth country wasn\u2019t my home country, and my nationality didn\u2019t make me feel like I belonged in Lebanon. It\u2019s true that my Lebanese ID never promised my amalgamation with Lebanese society, but I didn\u2019t know that until much later.<\/p>\n

\n

Nationalism is an assertion of belonging in and to a place, a people, a heritage. It affirms the home created by a community of language, culture, and customs; and, by so doing, it fends off exile, fights to prevent its ravages.\u00a0 \u2014Edward Said, Reflections On Exile<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

And so, I left Lebanon. I took with me some nearly weightless objects that could serve as mementos, and therefore be easily transported through continents, airports, and checkpoints; objects that could act as souvenirs once they\u2019re placed in their new environment, and through which Proust\u2019s madeleine experience could be reenacted. I packed my suitcase with this homey feeling and moved to France, thinking I had reached a point in my life where I could be privileged enough to choose a country for myself, a place with which I shared common values, or at the very least, a piece of land that permits me to exist. In my quest for a new country, I was determined to sign a social contract with this new piece of land\/regime to make sure the choice was mutual. Citizenship is like marriage; it\u2019s an administrative contract for which love isn\u2019t a prerequisite.<\/p>\n

\"\"
A view from the writer’s window, Rouen, April ’22 (courtesy Myriam Dalal).<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

 <\/p>\n

It turned out that the French tend to have a different definition of a French citizen, and it is not that of an Arab woman with a name not encrypted in the Larousse<\/em> of European names. Instead, I was a foreigner at the very least, an Arab Muslim most of the time, and a low-class refugee for those who wanted to take things a step further in their classification. Classifying me didn\u2019t require any further investigation beyond an appraisal of my looks, because, you know, \u201chips don\u2019t lie.<\/em>\u201d And with French presidential elections happening in April of 2022, the rightwing candidates were very clear about their understanding of what a French citizen can and should be like. It didn\u2019t matter much if the journalist\/author and one of France\u2019s presidential candidates Eric Zemmour wanted to strip any convicted binational of their French citizenship<\/a> (based on a supposedly logical argument in which he assumes that French nationals never break the law); neither did it matter if he wanted to change the names of all non-French sounding citizens<\/a>. What saddened me was that there were many who applauded these statements (32% of electoral votes went to right wing candidates in France\u2019s first round of elections<\/a>), and I was destined to run into one of them, soon.<\/p>\n

As much as it angered me to be classified in Lebanon, based on my parents\u2019 religions, my looks, my academic pursuit, where I lived, my habits and just about everything else, \u00a0it seems that people here in France also have an urge to box everything and everyone. But in my idealistic little mind (perhaps mostly in my heart), I had begun to draw myself a new home<\/em> here. A new life was beginning to take shape and I thought my nation-scouting was beginning to conclude. It now seems as though foreign souls are destined to roam this world endlessly and tirelessly, and only in their statelessness will they find their true citizenship. In fact, the past year or so can be summed up as life in between lockdowns and moving in and out of Chatillon, Paris, Sartrouville, Bonsecours, and Rouen. All the while in Beirut, Dad was going through his own moves, hospitalized, and in and out of the ICU. My sisters\u2019 anxious WhatsApp messages updated me on his health condition through their informal headlines, as I wasn\u2019t allowed to leave France before the renewal of my residence permit here. It seems to me all I do as a transitional citizen is either wait, move, or hide (the exile\u2019s equivalent to the body\u2019s usual \u201cfight, flight, freeze\u201d reaction to threat\/danger).<\/p>\n

I\u2019m currently negotiating a new work contract abroad which requires residence in yet another country, and for that, I\u2019ll soon have to repack my posters, pens, and clothes. I\u2019m trying to cope with the feeling of having little in common with any place; perhaps in knowing that this time, I\u2019ll be able embrace this whirling dervish status\u2026even try and dance along as if life were one wild dabke.<\/p>\n

\n

They say some people anchor themselves in other people, so he\/she becomes their home, their country, their nation. While that sounds beautiful in theory, I still haven\u2019t figured out a way to direct my heart\u2019s compass while my brain is swimming in all directions. I keep leaving behind a crush here and there, writing confession letters to some, post-departure. So, I\u2019m either writing or reading as a pastime<\/em> during this uncategorizable transitional state, in an attempt to learn more about my stateless compatriots in books, novels, and poems, as words are proving to be our only valid and true passports to date.<\/p>\n

With these volumes piling up here on a shelf here in Rouen, I know I will be needing an extra suitcase for them if I relocate soon.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

More Lebanese live abroad than at home, and the exodus continues. Some have the option to leave, others cannot.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":243,"featured_media":9197,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[8,51],"tags":[323,423,844,1023,1032,1333],"coauthors":[2062],"class_list":["post-9159","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-column","category-tmr-weekly","tag-beirut","tag-civil-war","tag-immigration","tag-lebanese","tag-lebanon","tag-passport","entry"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nWhy I left Lebanon and Became a Transitional Citizen - The Markaz Review<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"More Lebanese live abroad than at home, and the exodus continues. 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