When I was learning Dutch, I chose, by chance, a school that had a contract with the Dutch government to teach refugees. In consequence, half of the students in my class were refugees, mostly from Syria. It was an interesting environment in which to meet them, because in that context we were completely equal: just a group of people all with the same aim, to figure out this language with its weird vowel rules and bizarro pronunciation. I was surprised to find that these people were just like me, and then surprised that I was surprised. I never even realised that I had expected them to be different; to have what I can only describe as a refugee-like quality. Somehow, this form of racism had seeped into me without my noticing. I had forgotten that, in a sense, both of my parents are refugees: my mother left Algeria in her teens to escape the civil war there and never returned; my father’s Jewish mother took him to Canada during World War Two, for fear that the Nazis might invade Britain. They may not have had official refugee status, but are they so different from people fleeing war zones now?
Refugees Welcome?
Refugees Welcome?
Refugees Welcome?
When I was learning Dutch, I chose, by chance, a school that had a contract with the Dutch government to teach refugees. In consequence, half of the students in my class were refugees, mostly from Syria. It was an interesting environment in which to meet them, because in that context we were completely equal: just a group of people all with the same aim, to figure out this language with its weird vowel rules and bizarro pronunciation. I was surprised to find that these people were just like me, and then surprised that I was surprised. I never even realised that I had expected them to be different; to have what I can only describe as a refugee-like quality. Somehow, this form of racism had seeped into me without my noticing. I had forgotten that, in a sense, both of my parents are refugees: my mother left Algeria in her teens to escape the civil war there and never returned; my father’s Jewish mother took him to Canada during World War Two, for fear that the Nazis might invade Britain. They may not have had official refugee status, but are they so different from people fleeing war zones now?