My name is Helena and yes, you guessed right! I am originally from Albania. That’s the starting point and inspiration for my blog.
Much of my life I grew in America, hearing stories about Albania, a place unfamiliar to me but that made me who I was, and about individuals I did not know but were pieces of me scattered throughout the world. My parents, particularly my father was a huge story teller. No matter where we were, let it be the dinner table, home depot, or in the car, he had a story to tell us about how it was like growing up in Albania and about their memories with family members. I have not always been comfortable sharing my story. I am not going to lie growing up I was embarrassed and ashamed of my roots, not because I wanted to be, but because of the taunting, humiliation, and isolation from adults and children for being a refugee in America. I don't know what changed in me, but now I wear that I am a refugee in America so proudly. I typically introduce myself as, “Hi, I am Helena from Albania.” Now, I am interested in sharing my story and creating a space of safety and comfort for others to share their stories. I want to share stories that evoke a lot of OMG ME TOOs, a feeling of community and support! So to kick us off, I want the first blog to be a little about my experience. I look forward to sharing and learning more with y’all! In this blog, I want to take you down a path of what it really looks like to be an immigrant/refugee youth in this country. This perspective is from my journey and I want to note that the journeys of others may have some similarities and also a number of differences.
So a little about myself.
I am Helena, who currently lives in New Orleans with her adorable dog, Magnolia, and amazing boyfriend, Dustin. I am a public health professional who believes and fights for the day that all individuals have access to quality health care. Now, let's rewind to how I got here. My mother and father were born and raised in Albania. My dad is from a beautiful village called Mavrove in Albania and my mom is a city gal from Vlore, Albania. Both my mom and dad had extremely difficult lives growing up in Albania. Food scarcity, education scarcity, political turmoil, and corruption. My mom and dad were married in 1988 and had their first daughter, Lorena, my older sister, in Albania. After 2 years, they were pregnant with their second child and found themselves fleeing Albania’s communist regime for a better life for themselves and their growing family. So while pregnant, my mother and father crossed terrifying terrain to go to Greece. I remember a story my dad shared with me that always makes me tear up when I think of it. My mom and dad were crossing from Albania to Greece undocumented. My mom was pregnant, please keep this in mind. As they were crossing, my mom went to take the next step on the long journey ahead of her. As she placed her foot on the ground, the ground beneath her fell. She stepped on what she thought was the ground, but what she quickly learned was that she stepped on a man made hole that would have swallowed her to her death. My dad quickly grabbed her by her jacket and pulled her. He saved her. This wasn't the only time that the life of my mother and the fetus was at risk. While in Greece and 9 months pregnant, my mother, due to the extreme amount of pain she was in, went to see the doctor. However, what she was met with from the doctor was a lack of compassion, a lack of care, and a lack of basic decency, as he treated his other undocumented Albanians. They kept sending her back home and dismissing her pleas for help. That's when my dad’s way with his words came into play. I am going to let your imagination roam as to what he said and did, but whatever it was made the doctors rush my mom into an examination room and ultimately they rushed her into emergency delivery. The doctor came out saying that the fetus barely made it and that's how I was born! My dad has said I was difficult from day one. I can’t argue with that. My dad also loves to share a story of an experience he had in the Greek hospital. While he was in the elevator, this elderly Greek woman turned to him and said, “ Oh! You are the Albanian.” My dad said “ Yes,” to which she replied, “your daughter is beautiful.” In the elevator, it was my father, this elderly greek woman, and a fire extinguisher. My dad grabbed the fire extinguisher and said back to the woman, “ Thank you. May her head be as strong as this.” Well, he got his wish ;) He can't be mad, he got what he asked for, a strong headed daughter.
So, I hope you understand the type of people my parents are. They are bad ass, tenacious, and fearless individuals. They are the best role models one could ever ask for. In 1992, we moved to the United States, where we first moved to New Jersey, then to Texas, and then lived in almost every part in Philadelphia. Growing up was great. My family is my everything. We did everything we could to support one another, for my parents that meant working multiple jobs , sacrificing all they could, and never giving up no matter how hard it got. For us, it meant trying to be the best children we could to our parents, while trying to balance being a kid, which was even more difficult because as kids were always moving from new city to new state to new schools. It was tough, kids and adults are cruel and rough. I am going to leave it at that for now. I’ll pick it up next week on what being an #immigrantyouth #refugeeyouth in America was like.
I hope y’all enjoyed this! Please come back and share with others. I would LOVE to hear from y’all on what it’s like to be an immigrant youth, what your impression of this story is, and anything else thank you!