You’re looking at a typical ugly American.
Thankfully, that label wasn’t earned by calling anyone names due to differences in race or creed, by accepting discord and discrimination, or by letting people wield the same, tired arguments in defense of the same, tired prejudices.

As for excessive comfort with my own home, faith, family, wardrobe, economic status, language, music and hobbies, well, guilty as charged.

No nation offers its citizenry as much liberty as the United States of America. Nowhere, then, is it simpler to be self-absorbed.

It’s intellectually easy to take a live-and-let-live approach to the Somali community. You know, smile politely when you drive and shop in the same locales. When given the opportunity, stand against words or behavior that threaten their safety. Try to apply the golden rule and call it good.

In our culture of rugged individualism, however, should I be concerned with how the Somalis feel about you, about me and about our role in making them feel welcome in our neighborhood?

Hearing anthropologist and lecturer Heather Lindkvist might give you pause.
Families, fears
Lindkvist attended Lisbon schools, graduated from the University of California at San Diego and has invested years in observing the plight of Somalis, both immigrants and refugees.

Among her discoveries:

Most seek better education, a more fulfilling life and an environment conducive to raising a family.

All face varying degrees of fear, anxiety and uncertainty.

While appreciating the open door, many wish they could lock out pop culture.

They would prefer to live next to the Joneses without feeling the pressure to keep up with the Joneses, or worse, become like them.

See any reflection of yourself in that profile?

One oddity about America is the contradiction of virtually limitless freedom and the intense peer pressure to blend in.

It’s called assimilation or, to paraphrase, when in Maine, do as Mainers do.

“Our culture encourages becoming like the people around you and doing away with any characteristics that make you different,” Lindkvist said.

Lewiston is different. Compared to the Somalis’ nation of origin, it’s heaven. Think anarchy and civil war and you have the idea. Lindkvist said some Somalis walked “hundreds of miles” for the opportunity to flee that unrest.

Upon arriving in the United States, Somalis settled in metropolitan areas that proved no safer than the chaos they escaped. Nearby gangs and drugs provided many families’ first glimpse at America’s distasteful side, prompting secondary migration to less crowded areas.

Like ours.

Lewiston is becoming home, as evidenced by the opening of a restaurant and mosque. But there have been trials. The terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, resulted in persecution for many Americans of Muslim faith.

Other obstacles were the release of “Black Hawk Down,” a motion picture memorializing U.S. forces killed in Somalia in 1993, former Lewiston Mayor Larry Raymond’s open letter to the Somali community discouraging additional immigration and a rally by the white supremacist World Church of the Creator.

Looking for freedom

Somalis who stay may be tempted to surrender their cultural uniqueness. Lindkvist said the stigma attached to speaking French led many Canadians to cut that tie with their heritage.

“Today you see second- and third-generation Franco-American residents of Lewiston who recognize the language, but don’t speak it,” Lindkvist said.

We hear loud, conflicting banter about American values. What our nation represents. What the founders had in mind when they politely requested that the king go choke on his crumpets.

What those ancestors desired most is the freedom to be themselves.

That’s what my son’s great-great-grandparents surely sought when they set out from Finland and Canada, discovering this land and its little outpost with the pine trees, breathtaking hills and rockbound coast.

The highest branches on your family tree might have discovered those joys after departing Italy, Greece, Germany or Poland.

Our new neighbors loaded their luggage with the same aspirations in a different part of the world. Their expectations are no less valid, their traditions no less indelibly linked to heart and soul.

Here’s one person pledging to celebrate their contributions to our city and shed some of that ugliness, one apathetic notion at a time.

Kalle Oakes is staff columnist. He may be reached by e-mail at koakes@sunjournal.com.

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