Conditional Citizens: On Belonging in America

“Arab and Muslim citizenship in this country was contingent on either total silence or vocal support for the war, a rule that filtered into scripted dramas of the post-9/11 years: along with the usual Muslim terrorists, television series now included the occasional Muslim CIA officer or FBI agent.”

The options open to Arab and Muslim American people are laid out and reinforced by evidence from pop culture. To avoid suspicion of being terrorists, members of these groups must either avoid talking about the wars in the Middle East or explicitly support US military intervention. The parallel in television of Muslim members of law enforcement shows examples of “good” Muslims who are true citizens, a practice in media that worsens the public perception of those Arab and Muslim American people who do not specifically voice their patriotism in this way.

“The Muslim ban seemingly applies only to foreigners. […] But in reality, the ban affects millions of Americans directly. An Iranian-American in Los Angeles can no longer sponsor his mother for a visa, but a German-American can.”

The range of impacts that Trump-era restrictions on immigration by people from primarily Muslim countries had on Americans and those from other countries points to a trend in legislation that Lalami highlights a few times across the collection: While certain policies may seem specific in their purposes, there are often wider consequences to their enforcement. While this restriction was purportedly an effort to keep terrorists out of the country, it also kept out innocent tourists and family members who would otherwise be able to visit their American friends and families. The distinction between Americans of Iranian versus German descent highlights the impact of discrimination against people of certain national origins and races.

“In short, conditional citizens are Americans who cannot enjoy the full rights, liberties, and protections of citizenship because of arbitrary markers of identity. Their race, ethnicity, gender, and national origin—that is to say, features over which they have no control—largely determine whether they will be able to vote, have freedom of movement, or remain safe from unreasonable searches.”

This is the key definition at the heart of Lalami’s work, reflecting both the title of the collection and the idea that she develops across the work. Rooted in this definition is the idea of what it means to be a citizen, which includes both political participation and protection, and the reality that many people who are citizens on paper are not treated or allowed to act as citizens in reality. The ways in which Lalami is treated because of her skin color, gender, and national origin serve as examples of a broader issue in which all levels of American society, from the presidential office to the average pedestrian, are complicit in a system that intentionally disadvantages specific groups. In this quote, those identifying traits that jeopardize citizenship are explicitly listed, as are the infringements that these groups are likely to suffer.

“The wide abyss between the imagined me and the real me had the paradoxical effect of making my life narrower, because if I spent my time correcting misconceptions about the Muslim community, then I was left with little opportunity to engage with issues that mattered to me within that community.”

Lalami points to the contrast between how she is seen by others and how she sees herself, but she maintains a connection to her identity group in this quote that displays a core issue with holding one member of a group accountable for educating and speaking for the remainder. She does not want to be removed from the Muslim community, but she is unable to participate in it when her time is consumed with defending or explaining events and actions that have nothing to do with her or her community.

“In middle school, I had known only one girl who wore the headscarf, but by the time I finished high school, there were several in my graduating class. Two of my classmates, once infamous for their partying, began attending prayers at the neighborhood mosque.”

Lalami observes the spread of religious conservatism in Morocco in her peers’ altered behaviors. Her classmates begin wearing a headscarf and attending prayers instead of partying because they need to at least appear to be practicing their religion. She leaves her evaluation of these changes ambiguous, but the contrast from partying to prayers highlights social pressures during the shift toward stricter religious adherence.

“Political violence affects all of us in the same way: we experience sorrow and anger at the loss of life, we demand justice for the fallen, and we hear calls for retribution. For Muslims in America, however, there is an additional layer of grief as we ourselves become subjects of suspicion. We are called upon to condemn terrorism, but no matter how often or how loud or how clear the condemnations, the calls remain.”

Addressing the “gray area,” Lalami calls attention to the fact that the majority of Muslim Americans, like herself, are appalled by acts of terrorism and acts of war, but she focuses on the ways that these experiences affect her differently than other Americans. Muslim Americans are seen as either complicit in or advocates for these acts, and they must constantly reassert their loyalty to American efforts against terrorists, as though their faith makes them culpable. Here, Lalami points out that it is impossible to satisfy cultural demands, because she can never condemn the violence strongly enough to silence her critics or end their suspicion.

“I have since come to realize that, whatever form it takes, a border primarily conveys meaning about the Self and the Other.”

The border identifies both what it means to be American and what it means to be not American. Lalami shows that all borders carry this message to some extent, such as those between states or towns. People are pulled to identify with one group at the expense of or in contrast to another, and that idea forms the central conflict of this essay. As an immigrant, Lalami confronts the idea of being initially defined as not American, having come from outside the border.

“Location becomes character, with everything that this designation entails. A person is either American and an honest worker, or she is not American and is a criminal alien. The two categories are seen as inherent and inflexible. That, coincidentally, is the language of race.”

Dealing specifically with the southern border of the US, Lalami addresses comments made by members of the Trump administration regarding Mexican immigrants. She notes that to flatter the American people, the rhetoric denigrates Mexican people. By setting up an intrinsic contrast between the two countries, America’s identity is fortified as superior, but the perception of Mexican people—and Mexican American people, by extension—is rendered as inferior. Lalami points out the intersectionality of race and nationality.

“After all, the story of humanity is fundamentally a story of migration: Adam was forced out of Eden, Moses led his people out of Egypt, Muhammad made the hegira to Mecca. This is why efforts to stop the movement of people strike me as futile, like trying to stop birds from flying south for the winter.”

Incorporating a mix of religious allusions, or references to other works, Lalami attaches a framework of divinity to the freedom of movement. Freedom to travel is one of the rights defined under her conception of citizenship, so elevating that right with natural imagery and references to sacred texts aligns with the idea of inalienable and intrinsic rights. She also points out the ineffectiveness of border patrol and enforcement, as migration is a permanent and natural aspect of human history.

“On the other hand, the Founders did not imagine the United States as a multicultural haven; rather, they envisioned a society in which the highest privileges of citizenship were reserved for propertied white men and where immigration served their political and economic interests.”

These lines challenge the idea of the US as a melting pot. Rather, Lalami cites the conditions of citizenship from the inception of America as fundamentally discriminatory. By restricting citizenship to wealthy white men, the Founders instituted a classist, racist, and sexist system in which power is concentrated among a single group.

“After a period of time, which usually lasted several decades, each group of immigrants was judged to have successfully integrated into the mainstream and became hyphenated: Mexican-Americans, Japanese-Americans, or Chinese-Americans. Because assimilation revolves around power, however, descendants of white immigrants typically skip the hyphenation and are simply referred to as Americans.”

White Americans rarely hyphenate their nationality, as they are identified as the default “true” or “real” Americans. Members of other ethnic groups often choose to categorize their identity with two terms, showing that they are neither fully assimilated nor totally removed from their cultures of origin.

“The insistence on English proficiency for immigrants establishes a link between citizenship and linguistic origin, suggesting that the only legitimate way to be American is to speak English—and only English. Language loss is one area in which the effect of assimilation to white Protestant culture can be cruelly felt, with a resulting linguistic impoverishment for the nation as a whole.”

The monolingual culture of the US is compared here to those of other cultures, such as European nations, in which multilingualism is commonplace. While Americans generally view monolingualism with pride, linking English to a sense of American identity, this practice also restricts them from learning about and conversing with other cultures. Monolingualism reflects privilege. Americans do not feel the need that other cultures do to learn more than one language; instead, they often expect others to learn English to communicate with them.

“But what is remarkable about the term identity is that it’s almost never applied to whiteness; racial identity is taken to be exclusive to black people and people of color. When American media organizations discuss race, it is usually in connection with African-Americans of Asian-Americans or indigenous people or some other group that has been designated a minority.”

The idea of whiteness as a default comes from the fact that terms such as race are used to refer to people who are not white. When someone refers to a “race card” or a “racially motivated incident,” they imply the involvement of a person or people of color, rather than of white people. That the white race is excluded from these terms serves to highlight its dominance in society. Lalami observes that this disadvantages white people by leaving them without a sense of racial awareness or a means by which they could acknowledge their own race. Thus, viewing whiteness as the absence of race prevents white people from discussing and understanding race more fully.

“At the heart of this anxiety is an increasing awareness on the part of white people that they will become a demographic minority in this country within a generation. The paradox is that they have no lexicon to speak about their own identity. White is a category that has afforded them an evasion from race, rather than an opportunity to confront it.”

As with the privilege of ignorance afforded to Americans that relinquishes them from needing to know about global affairs, white people have a privilege of ignorance regarding race. Lalami points out that people of color have discussed race, willingly and unwillingly, for centuries, due to being oppressed and victimized based on this issue. White people and white groups, though, have not experienced this, so they are unfamiliar with discussions of race and oppression. White people will soon be a minority group within the US, which will require a confrontation with what it means to share and yield some of their power and control. Lalami notes that these discussions will be particularly difficult without historical rhetoric or language to draw on.

“In public spaces, particularly those that might be characterized as elite, white presence is treated as ordinary and invisible, whereas the presence of nonwhites is not only visible, but monitored. Speaking a language other than English, at a volume higher than a whisper, might draw confrontations about immigration status, as happened in the Manhattan deli incident.”

The idea of whiteness as the default in public spaces underlines an element of privilege: a lack of anxiety. While white people do not need to fear police intervention when getting a coffee, people of color do have that anxiety. Even for those with light skin, like Lalami, other traits like language could “give away” that someone is not quite white, drawing attention and potentially harassment.

“Of course, one doesn’t need to be white to have privileges. American society has many overlapping hierarchies that must be navigated every day. The rich have significant privileges compared with the poor, men compared with women, able-bodied people compared with the disabled, thin people compared with fat, and heterosexuals compared with LGBTQ people. I will readily admit to many privileges myself. My family never goes hungry. I have a home and access to clean water. I have employer-provided healthcare. I’ve run across subterranean parking lots without fear of causing alarms. I’ve been stopped by the police for speeding, and the encounter did not result in violence on my body.”

Lalami describes intersectionality, the overlapping qualities and traits that define identity. She acknowledges that race is not the only category that affords or reduces privilege, and the list she provides is extensive. Further, she acknowledges her own privileges to provide an overview of the areas that intersectionality encompasses, ranging from financial security to the freedom to run without seeming suspicious. This list shows how complex identity and privilege are. Lalami’s acknowledgment of her privileges encourages a reading of intersectionality as interpersonal, meaning that each individual has their own experience of what it means to have or not have privilege in any given scenario.

“It occurs to me now that poverty is often associated with parasites—and not just in literal ways. In every election, I can count on one or another politician to rail against people who ‘live off’ taxpayers’ money, receiving food stamps, rent assistance, or medical services while making no discernable effort to become self-sufficient.”

Paradoxically, Lalami acknowledges that social welfare programs are needed to improve the stations of poor Americans, but that aid is restricted by those who expect the poor to improve their own situation. However, without assistance, poor people are not able to simply better their financial positions. This political rhetoric also illustrates the frequent claim that the poor are taking away resources from hardworking people, a claim that is generally not made about spending for the military or other government programs.

“Passing is a word commonly applied to race, but it seems apt for class as well. The language I used every day—the vocabulary I chose, my command of grammar, and especially my accent—placed me in a social class to which I did not belong, but with which I was intimately familiar.”

As with race, Lalami notes that poverty can only be guessed or assumed from superficial features. Language, as with AAVE, can be seen as one of these markers, and Lalami’s ability to pass as belonging to a higher class was rooted in her presentation of herself as an educated speaker of English. Lalami also acknowledges that poor people can “pass” in higher class circles, but this depends upon access to education and social support systems that allow them to develop these linguistic tools and performative traits. Her education and upbringing are also form of privilege.

“Perhaps that is where progress begins—with new language about class. Perhaps we need to widen our understanding of citizenship rights to include guarantees of a decent minimum wage, healthcare, education, and housing. Sometimes, I wonder what this country might look like if no one had to go bankrupt because of medical costs; no one had to be made homeless because of low wages; no one had to go into debt to receive an education. I don’t think that’s a particularly radical thing to imagine.”

Lalami presents a broader argument about what it means to be a citizen, noting the ways in which people become disadvantaged due to costs and expenses. Emphasizing the view that poverty is by chance, not by choice, she highlights issues like medical debt and low wages, which are not in the control of impoverished people who suffer from them. Likewise, education is a means of raising oneself up economically, but the debt incurred to attain it can hold one back from achieving more.

“How could I say definitively whether the magazine had the necessary budget for a particular position? And how could I prove that the confrontation with my boss’s boss in the kitchen on Friday morning was the reason I had been laid off on Monday morning? Seeking redress through Human Resources would have required having concrete and incontrovertible evidence, which I couldn’t have collected because I hadn’t been looking for it. I had no pictures, no emails, no recorded calls to prove what I had witnessed.”

This quote outlines the burden of proof laid on women who are harassed or assaulted. Since these crimes are not typically predictable, nor do they often leave behind physical evidence that can be presented against the attacker, women are left without recourse against their assaulter. Though Lalami could go to Human Resources, the matter would be left as her word against his.

“Years later, when I wrote a post online about the incident with the columnist, a reader cast doubt on my account, said I was nothing but a striver, and that I was trying to tarnish the impeccable reputation of the man—even though I hadn’t named him. Then the reader ended his rant with Why didn’t she report him sooner?”

The critical element of this incident is that Lalami did not name her attacker, yet the man who reached out to her insists that she is lying to hurt the man in question. This contradiction reveals the actual motivation behind the doubt cast on Lalami’s post: men’s need to shut down attempts by women to confront their situation in order to maintain male control. Even if no particular man is being attacked, as in this case, the reader feels that all men are being attacked. Thus, he resorts to a further generalization that all women are dishonest or incompetent.

“What I want is freedom, not better conditions of subjugation. Every day, when I step outside of my home, a certain part of my mind is immediately occupied with keeping myself safe: I’m aware of how the clothes I happen to have reached for that morning look on my body; how this body, clothed in this particular way, might be perceived by strangers in public; whether the small talk I’m making as I wait on the coffee line might be perceived as flirting; how close a man walking behind me on the street is to me; whether it is safe to leave my office door unlocked at this or that time; whether it’s too late or too dark to cross the parking lot alone.”

The idea of subjugation, in this case, is implied in the awareness that women must have to defend themselves against possible threats from men. The dissociated phrasing of “this body” reflects a detachment and alienation from one’s own physical form that develops out of this need for awareness. Forcing women to think constantly about their own appearance and behavior makes these concerns begin to become separate entities detached from the woman herself.

“Each of these conditions affects interactions between the state and the citizen, whether in the voting booth or at a border checkpoint, during a police encounter or a hospital visit, in decisions about school zoning or government assistance. As a result, the full rights, liberties, and protections of citizenship are still not shared equally by all Americans.”

Fitting in with the conclusion of the collection, Lalami recapitulates the different ways in which inequality is seen in the text. Obvious situations are paired with less obvious ones to show the range of obstacles in maintaining citizenship. These include border checkpoints, which are obvious locations of conflict, and the voting booth, which is meant to be a safe, protected space. Here, Lalami combines the clear infractions of the government with the less apparent infringements of rights to encourage broader thinking about equality and freedoms.