La Perdida

I have just got back from a talk on migrants' experiences, and it was... in some ways, you hear the same things over and over again: the lack of power, the poverty that drove people here, the abuse, the exploitation, the sadness. But some of the reflections manage to strike you anew with their accuracy; the strength of the survival instinct of the Nicaraguan women, their ability to joke and laugh through it all - the ability to retain that sense of self-preservation, dignity and ability to enjoy your life through all the mierda is miraculous to me.

But less about the immigrants who genuinely suffer, more importantly, let's talk about what I feel. What really struck a chord was the concept of being split. This is something I refer back to in my mind time and time again. Today, though, bizarrely, hearing it in another language, in another country, from another immigrant, really brought it home to me, and made me realise how much I resent the schism in my life. Cuando una persona se migre, empezará vivir en dos mundos... or something in better Spanish. It is as if I am living several lives. I have my heart, my soul, my identity in London. But M and I live together, as a couple, in NYC - that's where our life together really has its base, and will therefore always have a piece of me. It's one thing to be together, another to have your base, home, place of peace and return in the same place. The people who know me there know me as that person.

I don't know what I do from here. My life is in two places. That's how it works. I am in a position of absolute luxury, in that I have a secure place to live, am with my other half, have long-term friends there, and am not doing shitty work for $1 an hour. But the loneliness that comes from being the only person with your accent, who knows what London smells like after a storm, who understands that silly mid-off is not an insult, who understands the allure of jaffa cakes, the concept of last orders, is sometimes overwhelming. And I will never feel 100% secure in the US. I feel secure in NYC in the culture, with my friends, that I belong there, but not in the US of A - someone, somewhere could always pop out and send me home, for whatever reason (probably for fighting the absolutely DISGUSTING laws on visitors with HIV). Which they couldn't do at home, which is why I suppose I will always return to it in my heart. Whether they like me or not, the Brits are stuck with me. And that kind of commitment could only inspire love and devotion, really.