For immigrants, a random zip code can make all the difference to quality of life
This year, after nearly two decades in this country, in the midst of loud chanting and tears, I felt more American than I ever have. Dec. 18, 2001 marked my first day on American soil. I remember being mesmerized with stories about what America promised. At the time, African refugees only made up a small 881,000 of all Americans, according to the 2000 US census. Finding a sense of community in my new home after the tragedy of 9/11 was difficult. Early on, I could feel how unwelcome a black child with a heavy accent and confused gaze was. I dismissed my birth language(s), and any signs of being a cultural transplant to commit to the innocence my teachers and the adults in my life saw in others but failed to see in me. Assimilation became a coping mechanism for the ridicule I faced for an identity I didn’t quite understand yet. I began to realize my race would be a barrier for the dreams I had and a source of terror for some members of my new community.
County borders, school districts, voting locations. all of these identifiers clump you into a community based off of where you live. Your zip code can give you access to different societies of people, competitive school programs, extracurricular exclusive opportunities and more. But, if a series of numbers intended to group locations and create communities can play such a positive impact, is the inverse effect possible? Can a zipcode put you at a disadvantage in terms of education, social stature, belonging, and more? And what can be done for those living in a community who refuses to see them?
Being born on the Eastern African Coast of Tanzania, and moving to Kentucky was a stark life change. Very few times in my life have I felt more out of place than I did walking around as a new American resident in a sea of faces that looked confused by my existence. I found myself desperately depending on those same confused faces to help make me feel more like a community member, and less like a statistic. I was not the first to undertake the task of moving to a Western country from the other side of the world but not being the last makes the task of understanding those who continue to make new homes for themselves that much more important.
The foreign born population in the United States hit 44.8 million in 2016. Every year, more than one million immigrants continue to leave their birth countries in search of a life they will accept. But, what many of us don’t know is many immigrants find themselves forgotten and unable to break through the invisibility that cultural differences create or relieve the anxieties brought on by hypervisibility due to their differences. Moving into a new neighborhood is difficult. Moving to a new neighborhood from a different country is an even bigger challenge. With some immigrant families a voucher is given to aid with housing or a small apartment in areas of town that don’t have the strongest sense of community, guidance, or resources for newcomers. Fortunately my family’s move was to a residential area with a great school, parks, low crime rates, and other children. This was my introduction to American life and I know it made all the difference in my journey.
The United States is arguably, one of the most diverse countries in the world. America was the prototype of democracy for years and it continues to be in the handful of countries who offer solace for those in need of grace. As Kentuckians, we pride ourselves in our hospitality and our ability to make any place feel like home with kindness. I have seen myself transform into a confident woman who knows her way and it’s due in part to the people who didn’t let my small differences keep them from showing me the kindness I so desperately needed. We may not have the power to change everything we would like about our community but we do have the power to understand our community and all its members deeper. A zip code determines more than we would like to admit but, a thirst to guide those that are alone determines more than we can measure.
Marie Emedi is a University of Kentucky graduate and media professional with experience in education policy, public relations, and journalism.
This story was originally published November 13, 2020 at 9:07 AM.