FEATURE
Know No Boundaries Stories of Immigration in Cleveland
Edited by Literary Cleveland board members and immigrants Lisa Chiu, Jackie Feldman, and Sujata Lakhe GLOBAL CLEVELAND’S UPCOMING Welcoming Week (Sept. 10-19, 2021) consists of a series of events that focus on culture, community, economy, and internationality. The event will bring communities together to celebrate unity and friendship, as well as exhibit the countless benefits of welcoming newcomers to Northeast Ohio. To celebrate Welcoming Week, Literary Cleveland invited local immigrants to share their personal experiences of coming to America and adapting to life in Northeast Ohio. We welcomed stories and poems from people telling us how they came to Cleveland, why they came, what they left behind, and what they found when they arrived. In response to our call, Cleveland immigrants shared recollections of fear and joy, loss and perseverance, trauma and triumph, exclusion and welcoming. Most of all, the submissions challenged assumptions and defied categorization, showing that the stories of immigrants know no boundaries. We are honored to present a select portion of those submissions representing perspectives from South Korea, Kuwait, Germany, Ukraine, and India. The following collection includes a poem about speaking a second language, a story of being detained while watching birds fly free across borders, a prose poem of war-ravaged homelands and a past kept silent, memories of the last moments leaving home, and a series of musings on American culture. Curated by Literary Cleveland, in partnership with Global Cleveland and the Maltz Museum of Jewish Heritage, with gratitude for the many immigrant and refugee service organizations in Cleveland, we are pleased to showcase stories of those from around the world who now call Northeast, Ohio home.
Accent
By Jewon Woo A word is broken into hundreds of pieces to become soundless shriek
JEWON WOO is your ordinary immigrant person who has many stories to tell. She has taught literature, writing, and humanities at Lorain County Community College since 2013. She is a city-lover, as she was born and raised in Seoul, South Korea. She came to the U.S. to pursue her graduate degrees in Iowa and Minnesota, and later moved to Cleveland, which she claims as her chosen home. When she does not teach or research, she enjoys hiking in the Valley, listening to audiobooks, sewing, and cooking Korean food. Above all, she loves to spend time with her partner, daughter, and cat.
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In my foreign mouth the pieces fall down like glass shards To speak out that one word loud, my tongue must be scratched This language tastes like a fresh wound from shame scorching Even silence never leaves it scabbed over That’s how I got an accent.
| clevescene.com | September 8-21, 2021
FATIMA AL MATAR sought asylum in the United States after facing prosecution for her political and social activism in her home country Kuwait. She lives in the Cleveland area with her daughter, Jori, and their cat, Ty. Her writing has appeared in The Wry Ronin, Acumen, The Journal, Angelic Dynamo, Further Monthly, Fleeting Magazine, Bad Language, Staples Magazine, Word, Jaffat El Aqlam, Oyster River Pages, Gordon Square Review, and OffSpring. She is currently querying literary agents for her book Detained, a memoir that relays what happened to her in Kuwait, and inside the Dilley Detention Center in Texas, USA. Learn more at https://fatimaalmatar.com/.
Photos courtesy Lit Cleveland
Geese
By Fatima Al Matar I paint migratory birds: Canada Geese, Snow Geese, ravens, herons, and starlings. I spend hours perfecting their plumage on my canvas. Canada Geese have a special place in my heart. With my fingers curled around the chain link fence, I watched them fly over the Dilley Detention Center, where my daughter and I were detained as refugees in the United States. Always in a V shape, with their comical honking cries, they rushed across the sky above me, the epitome of freedom, knowing no boundaries, accepting no border. My daughter, Jori, and I should not have been held in a detention center. We arrived at O’Hare Airport late December 2018, carrying valid passports and visit visas. The date on our return tickets exceeded the permissible six-month stay, which raised suspicion. Our luggage was searched, and the documents I brought with me proving my prosecution back in Kuwait were found: translated papers detailing that I’m being tried for my political and religious views, and for my social activism. “If you don’t tell me why you’re really here,” the angry officer demanded, “I will put you on the next plane to Kuwait.” Inside the interrogation room of The Department of Homeland Security, under the jeering gaze of five other armed cops in that room, I explained that I came to America seeking asylum. My love for birds, or my hate for oppression, started early. I was 11 years old when I saw a great Golden Eagle in a cage at a local park in Kuwait. Staring in those Herculean eyes, I saw that the cage was too
