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| photo: Nickolai Hammar | |
Aarti Shahani is an award-winning correspondent for NPR based in Silicon Valley. She is a graduate of the University of Chicago and the Harvard Kennedy School. Her first book, Here We Are: American Dreams, American Nightmares (coming from Celadon in October), chronicles her family's experience as immigrants to the U.S., and the court case that consumed years of their lives.
The narrative of Here We Are has been central to your life and your family's life. How did you decide to put it into a book?
This book has been inside me for more than half my life. For many years, I chose not to write about it at all. I wanted to see: What does my life look like when I'm not being my parents' daughter?
I also needed some space from the story to have perspective. And the more the most profound facts about my family's life got buried, the more I wanted to dig them up. This happens to all of us: you run as fast as you can away from something, and the faster you run, the clearer the signs are that it's always with you. I decided I didn't want to run away from this story any more.
There are many parallels between your family's story (which is set in the early 2000s) and the Trump administration's treatment of immigrants. Can you talk about that?
There's a shift in this country, which is my country, where according to some, people like us are not supposed to exist. We don't have a place here. The shift toward closing borders and attacking the foreigner has been steady and incremental over the years. The things you see now are shocking and terrible, but I can't say they're surprising. The continuity--the things I see on the news today--remind me of what my family went through.
The last couple of years in the U.S. remind me a lot of post-9/11 America: the willingness to pounce on "the foreigner." We forget that there was real political alignment on this issue after 9/11. The sense that we were responding to a national security threat made a lot of people blind. But this country has a long history of being open to outsiders. That needs to be resuscitated immediately, and I think immigrants have to take the lead on it.
You talk frankly about the challenges of navigating the immigration system--both in the courtroom and at home.
Yes. That's part of wanting to document my family's story: there are some very uncomfortable facts in it. I think it's important for people to know the corners that were cut, the things that had to happen, for us to make it in this country. We need to think about that as we continue to debate immigration issues. If your bar to entry for this country is perfection, no one gets in. I think I'm quite honest about who we are. I hope that makes it okay for immigrants to not have to be perfect, and still get to be here.
This is such a deeply personal story. Were your family members involved in the telling of it?
I was basically in total isolation for four months while I was writing. I did show the manuscript to my siblings and my mom. None of them had veto power, but I listened to their feedback. My mom ended up being inordinately helpful with research: connecting me to other friends or family members or photographs that would show something. For her, it was really hard: she cried a lot. We all cried a lot.
There were little moments, little details, that I didn't know about, which really brought the story to life. For example: my dad took his wedding ring off his finger at Rikers Island and gave it to my brother. I had no idea that Dad also called Mom that night and said, "Why didn't you tell me to keep the ring?" He was profoundly isolated throughout his life, and I didn't realize that these issues of abandonment were coming up in that moment.
My siblings read the manuscript twice. For my brother, it was cathartic to see our story laid out like that, to see his story being told. My sister and I have a different dynamic, which is captured in the book. We're rapid-fire, unsentimental with each other. She'll hold me to the highest standard. She's a huge supporter, but she's also my toughest critic. She read it and called me--hours later--to say: "I liked it. A lot." She also said--and this was so meaningful--"We sound like us. You made us sound like we really sound."
There are moments of real warmth and humor amid the struggle.
Tragedy can be hilarious. Very funny things can happen when you're living really painful moments. It's important to me that readers know: this is not a screed about America. This is a family story you're going to relate to. We're funny and weird, and we get on each other's nerves, just like your family. I really wanted to give people an immigrant family that's not role-playing for America. I'm showing you those scripted moments. But you also get to see behind the scenes.
I wrote this book to let people into my family. Some people would say that we're not an American family. I would contend that we are, and this is the story of fighting to be that. I think you cannot understand America today without understanding what happened post-9/11. We lived through a recent chapter of history that's very relevant to now. I'm excited that now there seems to be an openness among many people that didn't exist after 9/11. It feels like a fruitful time to share my family's story: I think more people are willing to listen. I'm laying out a story that's rich enough for people to take away whatever they will. --Katie Noah Gibson