I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me.
How it Began
Being passionate about what you do can be a double-edged sword: you want everyone to understand what you have come to know. You want to “convert” people at the most extreme. At the very least you want to open their eyes. Somewhere in the middle, I suppose, you want to get them to “think.” You know what you know and you love what you love and you want others to do the same.
When I brought 22 students to Sicily last month as the travel week in the class that I teach “This Sea is Not My Home: Immigration, Migration and Social Justice in the Sicilian Context,” I don’t know think I was fully prepared for their reaction to what we had been learning. The class is a “Preview” class—-six weeks in the classroom before travel, one week abroad, and two weeks back in class, culminating in a “Global Expo”—-a true showcase of 16 countries, with roughly 24 students in each class. My university, Arcadia University in the suburbs of Philadelphia is Global in a myriad of ways. In this program, these classes go to such diverse locations such as China, Cuba, Romania and many others, giving students a “preview” of life lived elsewhere, while focused on a particular subject or aspect germane to the country they will visit. The approach is reflective, experiential, intense and “global” in both theory and practice.
My class of students was different than any other I had encountered. I can boast that in and of themselves they were an incredibly diverse group from various countries such as Peru, Columbia, China, Russia, Ukraine, Iran , Kenya, Benin,and other places They were so much quieter than other classes I’d taught. I felt their eyes on me. I felt that they truly wanted to understand. And while they were incredibly excited about our week-long travel in Sicily, they were diligent in their learning and preparation, to say the least. They would sometimes challenge me on points, which I saw as not only a good sign, but a sign that they were trying desperately to figure things out.
Teaching something you are passionate about is often difficult. I understand things in my head and I feel things in my heart that are often difficult to translate into understandable concepts. I take a careful approach, where I attempt to build on knowledge in a logical sequence. I provide a framework and then encourage my students to build upon that framework with their own knowledge. This means that they must dig deep and examine their own place in the world, first, and then examine the life of an immigrant or refugee in a place that does not want them.
I am hyper-aware of the fact that so much of what I teach them they will have to experience themselves. We talk, we learn and then we talk some more. They talk to me and they talk to each other. They take a good hard look at their lives’ and their freedoms and compare their lives’ to the immigrants and refugees. We look at policies, we look at all the political aspects of immigration both in our own country and in the European Union. At a certain point in the class, we hit a fever pitch; they could no longer contain their excitement. They wanted to see and experience.
And they did.
In Country: Sicily
In country, out and about on brilliantly sunny days, delicious gelato, wonderful activities scheduled for us from our center in Sicily, heartbreakingly beautiful Baroque structures and free time to discover, the students’ eyes were wide and gaping. One of the core practices in the course is journal keeping. I call the journal their “laboratory” and everything goes in it—class notes, reflections, reactions to readings, etc—-everything. This journal will be the main requirement of the class—and should show me, comprehensively what they have learned. In Sicily, I would often find my students writing in their journals. At cafes, out in the sun, on the bus from one location to another. It meant they were thinking. Some had never kept a journal before, but expressed to me how it helped to unload the things they were carrying around in their heads.
Fast-forward to the Arcadia University’s Global Expo this past Friday , the pinnacle of all of the Preview classes. My students had put themselves into groups and each group focused on some aspect of the travel, the culture or the predominant theme of the class to exhibit. We had food, churches, Sicilian symbols, language and the invisible line. Yes, the invisible line.
While all of my students did a stellar job, and I really must stress this because they blew me away, one group did something a bit different.
Thinking Sociologically/In Their Own Words
In class we had discussed two facts: that the sea, a route many unfortunate refugees take to arrive in Sicily has a passion for erasure (refugees often die en route without anyone ever knowing their names) and that often, in society, they are totally invisible to those around them. They are the unseen—ignored and not integrated into society at all. Ximena first coined the term “The Invisible Line” to explain what they were all witnessing.
My students, Ximena, Lily, Raha, Christina and Megan decided to focus on this invisible line—sort of like the parallel play very young children engage in: they play side by side but not together. This group of students looked closer at the phenomenon at play in Sicilian society—literally, LOOKED. What they saw and what they presented in their exhibit was deeply touching to me, not least of which knowing this is how things are , intellectually, is difficult enough, but witnessing this with your own eyes is another. As the old adage says, “Truth is a hard apple to throw and a hard apple to catch.” And once you know something, you cannot unknow it. In various places my students observed the presence of both refugees and immigrants among the Sicilian locals, but never once did they observe any interactions. I warned them of this fact, one of those things you tell students beforehand but unsure of whether or not they are internalizing it enough to find or even look for evidence enough themselves. This group did. And not surprisingly. Sina is a refugee from Iran, Christina is an immigrant from Ukraine and Ximena is from Columbia. They were looking with a sort of double vision. Lily and Megan, both born in the United States did not approach the phenomenon in the same way, but when they all came together to discuss, they agreed—-they witnessed the phenomenon with their own eyes!
Here is Ximena Parades-Perez take on the phenomenon:
As we visited this incredibly beautiful location, we were in awe of its magnificence and rich history, which is loaded with diversity and a massive blend of cultures coming together in one small place. This blend of cultures has been a non-stop flux of people, traditions and beliefs, and we were able to see this first hand by the very contrasting differences between the locals and the newcomers. As we walked through the old streets of Siracusa and Ortigia, we could see that the people living there were split by their heritage, and their origin. The locals and immigrants/refugees that inhabit the island share the same location, they see the same things everyday, do the same activities everyday, but never blend together with the locals, they are never equal, and they are never together. If we looked past the beautiful buildings and friendly faces, we could see that the immigrants/refugees were separate from the locals, there was an invisible line dividing them, and it didn’t matter how many things they shared, they would never cross that line and be together. They are the same, but will never the same.
Christina Zaveriukha put it this way:
The “invisible line” for me means that there are levels (with the lines that divide them) of people who live in Sicily and unless you open your eyes ans find them, you can’t see them. A lot of people who come to Sicily, as tourists don’t want to see the “dark side” of it. They come to spend their money, enjoy the view and go back home to their daily routine. They don’t want to notice homeless people, refugees and pain – big but invisible for many part of Sicily.
Raha had this to say:
I think it’s [the invisible line] isa powerful idea, and as I reflected in my journal, I was always baffled by the distinction of how we experience things versus someone who goes to Italy as a refugee,( I know this because I have the experience of going to a place as a refugee so I know that it feels very different ). For this reason, there is a line of division between tourists, locals, and refugees. There is a line, and maybe people cannot see it, or maybe they choose not to see it!
Lily Smith had this to say:
At the heart of the Mediterranean, Sicily was the perfect place to gain a deeper understanding of migration as countless civilizations have passed through leaving behind a rich collection of culture. Although Sicily was built on migration, it was clear to see how the newcomer immigrants and refugees were disconnected from society. They were invisible to those around them. The separation represents an unwillingness to cross cultural and social boundaries, a phenomenon identified by us as “The Invisible Line.” The locals and refugees live together, but they are not together. They do the same, but they are not the same. They are divided by the unseen but unmistakable boundary, “The Invisible Line.”
Variation on a theme
A predominant theme on this blog has been the nameless, faceless people who are fleeing their homelands for any number of reasons into a society that has yet to realize that its demographic is not just changing, but it has , in fact been changed. My preoccupation has always been with the disenfranchised. I believe, and tried to impart this to my students, that neglect, of any kind, is never benign.
My students, all of them caring, brilliant and sensitive understand this. They get it. They have witnessed it, processed it (are still processing it) and want to tell others about it. So while we enjoyed all the beauty Sicily had to offer we were aware, almost painfully so, of those not able to both literally and figuratively bask in that warm sun. In the beginning is awareness. The rest is up to them. But to be a part of that awareness, in fact, that awakening, because that is what I truly see as one of the results of teaching about social justice and social injustices, is truly a beautiful thing. A true honor I have never nor will I ever take for granted. I am encouraging this group to continue their work on the “invisible line”. Perhaps another visit is in order.
Stay tuned. We’re not finished yet! 🙂