Crossing Borders
When
I landed in London four weeks ago now, I had just finished reading Mohsin
Hamid’s Exit West on the plane. It was a moving and quick read. However, the
fact that I finished it right when I did, meant I probably wasn’t focusing too
hard on the implications and effects of the novel. It was a very stressful
thing to fly 5,000 miles away from home all alone and had more pressing matters
running through my mind. Like, did the airport lose my luggage? Will I be able
to make my way through the airport? Will I be able to get myself through
London? And so on and so on.
One thing that I
hadn’t thought about for some reason, was whether or not they would let me
through the visa and passport check station without evidence of my study abroad
trip. I had literally just finished a book all about crossing international
borders as I myself was crossing a border and didn’t even take the time to
realize the slight irony of that. Now as I look back on my struggles to first
enter this country I can easily see the parallels between that moment and Saeed
and Nadia’s travels through the doors. (Not that what I went through is
anywhere close to the threat of war and being a refugee. Just, you know, the
crossing borders and seeing the world thing.)
While the doors in
this book have many different meanings, one of the most important ones is that
they point out how silly the idea of the international borders we created is.
They are just invisible lines we drew on pieces of paper in attempts to claim
land and gain power. As I was being grilled by the customs agent in the airport
I had a similar thought. I am a small, weak, and young girl. I clearly posed no
threat to the security or stability of the United Kingdom, yet they refused to
let me in without proof. And as readers of Hamid’s novel will know, neither did
Saeed and Nadia. But that is not why they question travelers at the borders of
nations is it. They have security to check for safety, they need customs to
monitor who and when people will be leaving again.
In
Exit West, when the ability to prevent refugees from crossing these invisible
lines is taken away, the British government retaliates in a violent way. When
we see Saeed wonder to Nadia “if the natives would really kill them” she
replies simply by explaining that their fear and how “they could do anything”
because of it (164). If anything, the fear other countries feel at the idea of
letting outsiders into their walls probably comes from the possibility of
losing control. They didn’t question me for fifteen minutes at the border
because they saw me as a threat. They questioned me because they thought I
might never leave. And if they let everyone in without making sure they will
one day leave, then their country could very quickly and very easily be overrun
as it is in this novel.
It is the loss of
control, culture, and life as they knew it that causes the violence to first be
brought upon the migrants of London in Exit West. That fear the Nadia mentions
is a very strong one and continues to grow every day as the UK talks of leaving
the EU, and as Trump creates immigration bans. The western world is losing its
ability to rationalize between protecting borders and protecting humans.
“Decency on this occasion won out, and bravery” was found by the British
government in this novel full of fearful people (166). It is shown here that
order can be kept. Culture can be modified. There is no reason to not have
decency, there is no reason to fear refugees or migrants or natives.
We created these
borders out of thin air and have become so dependent on them that we question
20-year-old girls on study abroad trips for fifteen minutes in airport customs.
I had nothing to worry about on that day. Everything worked out fine and I made
my way to Kensington with no real issues. But for those (seemingly
never-ending) minutes of questioning, I couldn’t help but worry at the idea of
not being let through. I was not running from a war-torn country. I was not
trying to find a better life for myself and my loved ones. I simply wanted to
study literature in this culture filled country and even still, they did not
want to let me through. I can’t imagine being on the other side of this
privilege.
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