The Foundation of Who We Are - Through My Eyes.

Who are we? In the midst of the world: Mesopotamians. The Cradle of Civilization. Uncivilized. Middle Easterners. Empire Builders. Terrorists. Resilient. Immigrants. Refugees. Uprooted. Diasporians. Residents of the world. Lost. Found a better life in the West. Assyrian. Arab. Yezidi. Christian. Muslim (and so many more). I can go on for days about all the labels that are given to the people of Mesopotamia based on our different geographic, religious, and ethnic backgrounds. I’d say we are the original melting pot of the world.

It seems that our successes are the exceptions to the rule - that we remain statistics. For many born back home, their lives were split into two: the first half spent in the homeland; the other half moving to the West and creating a new life - a type of before and after connotation to leaving the Middle East. For many others, it’s being born in the West and only hearing stories of what our parents and communities tell us. Many times, people will never be able to travel back to visit and connect through fear of what our parents ran away from. Is a place full of genocide, war, dictatorships, corruption, and destruction your ideal vacation spot? No! But, it’s not that at all. It’s a place of survival, resilience, depth, passion, beautiful languages and ethnicities, politics, religion, no religion, human love, connection, art and beauty. I see youth striving for change, growth, and healing. I see people with a wealth of substance, but no outlet for release. But I also see generations filled with so much trauma, whether in the West or back home. I see a land, a mother continually offering her nutrients, yet consistently getting robbed, stripped of her children. I hear stories of emptied households, villages where only a few elders remain, their children spread out across the world (each one in a different country).

And in the West, we’ve built new communities to keep our motherland close to us. We raise our children differently. Our languages are only to be spoken in the home. We cook, dress, look, smell, talk, act, and walk differently. Our upbringings are more conservative. We shouldn’t mix, we must get educated, we must marry (and please don’t wait until you’re 30 to do that), we must live this picture perfect life in the West in a way to go unnoticed, but also be noticed for these “successes”. Downfalls are to never be spoken of. Integrate, but don’t assimilate and if you assimilate, your community will look at you like an outsider. Assimilate, and you carry the burden of everything your ancestors have suffered and fought for. You don’t fit in with the host country (I say host because at some point we should all return home to our mother), but you also don’t fit in with your cousins from back home. We stand in a limbo of existence, identity, and belonging. Back and forth. Not enough this and not enough that, but also too much of this and too much of that. We don’t have anything that we can identify with, so we hold on to the key pieces that make us different. I remember being so embarrassed about my family and upbringing while I was growing up. I wasn’t like the rest of my neighbors or friends. I knew I was different and carried this with shame until I was in my early 20’s, until I finally realized how special I actually was. My conservative, strict parents molded me into who I am today. My language carries echoes of past empires. I might not be the best English speaker, but I speak a language thousands of years old.

I am an Assyrian Christian, born 1989 in California. Born to parents from Iran who immigrated to America in the late 70s. I decided to dissolve my life in the states and move to Iraq at the age of 28. Been here for 4 years now. But why Iraq when I have no ties to it? I am a descendent of Mesopotamia. Of Assyria who still has a beating pulse in Iraq. I don’t use today’s borders as my identity. I am greater than a British mandated border from 1921.

So, who am I? I am a woman trying to reconnect the disconnect. Healing generations of trauma buried deep inside me. Setting free every label I was once told and believed in and creating my own story. Not a story of who or how I should be, but living unapologetically me to my core…everyday. Learning more about my roots, experiencing deep emotions, and connecting all that I encompass as Melinda. And how am I doing this? Through clothing, through expression, through my version of art because we need to be represented. We deserve the platform for our voices and identity to be displayed and heard.

We are Ancient.