As I sit in the belly of Heathrow Airport, it’s becoming increasingly impossible for me to ignore the truth.
Folks, I’m a fraud. Slap the handcuffs on, throw me in the clink, then feed the key to a crocodile.
Ever since I migrated to the United States at the age of 13, I’ve been desperately trying to mold myself into the perfect immigrant child, one who’s worthy of the countless sacrifices my family has made for me.
In some ways, I’m the perfect immigrant child.
When I first arrived in the United States, the shock and intense anxiety I experienced forced me into a bout of involuntary silence. I would open my mouth to speak only to have my treacherous tongue betray me.
There were countless times when I was frozen in place with my mouth hanging open, and people didn’t have patience for a recovering mute. Overcoming my Situational Mutism remains one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
I was alone and scared in a new world, but I kept myself alive and fighting while working toward my goal of securing a full scholarship to an American university.
Against all odds, I accomplished that goal, and I never find myself so terrified to speak that I can’t force the words through open lips.
So I’m the perfect immigrant child … right?
Except I can’t in good conscience claim to be this brave, resilient being when I have peers who have overcome much more. There are immigrants out there who fled war-torn regions and had to seek asylum in foreign countries. Many of them will never go back home. While I’m still fortunate enough to run into my mother’s arms once a year.
Can I sit here in Heathrow Airport excited for my study abroad opportunity when there are so many brilliant migrants out there who are 10 times more deserving?
London scenery taken by abroad columnist for The Daily Collegian, Liam Wichser
They should be here in Heathrow, not me. I feel fraudulent, and it’s devouring me on the inside. I’m not quite sure I’ll be able to leave this airport without breaking out into hives.
But, I have to.
I have to because my mother made untold sacrifices to get me here. I have to because despite this overwhelming feeling, I do deserve this, and wasting this opportunity would make me the fraud I’m convinced I am.
The car taking me to where I’ll stay during my time here is fast approaching. I haven’t quite shaken off this feeling, but I’ve decided the very least I can do is put on my best show.
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I recently finished my three-week study abroad in Cape Town, South Africa.