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“You will have to work twice as hard to get half as far.” This is a sentence I grew up with and I know for a fact that I’m not the only child of immigrants that was told this exact sentence. I remember my childhood in a conflicting ways:
Raised by my single Moroccan mom, who left Morocco as a 21 year old young woman, and my older sister, I never really realized that I was different and grew up carefree. That changed when I entered elementary school. I remember so many memories of where my teachers believed I wasn’t “Worthy” enough and shouldn’t visit the Gymnasium although I was best in class.
This judgement went so far that I began hating myself and my heritage when I became a teenager. I refused to speak Arabic and did not want anyone to visit our home, since I lived in a neighbourhood with a high percentage of people with Arab heritage. I was ashamed and wholeheartedly believed I needed to be as “German” as possible to be successful.. back then I didn’t even know how to define what “being German” looks like.
This identity crisis is something you will most likely know as well, because today I know that I’m not alone. Today I do not only accept my heritage but I embrace it simultaneously to what I define as me being German.
I still face challenges today like not being taken seriously, being continuously underestimated just to be told that my German is “amazing” when I participate in panel discussions and finally being told I’m too loud, when demanding change.
These are all challenges most children with a migration history know well, the only addition in my case is that I wasn’t only raised by a single mom but I grew up with an absent Iraqi father, who’s (politically known) last name closed many doors for me (and also for him).