Fatima Matar is a lawyer, law professor, and an activist from Kuwait.
Life in Kuwait
My life in Kuwait felt like a tiny room with a very low ceiling.
It keeps you small and unsettled.
As a girl, I didnt have feminist terminology.
I never heard words like feminism, patriarchy, misogyny, or sexism.
My feminism was organic.
Why did I have to run back and forth to the kitchen, bringing more plates and cutlery?
This isnt right, I would protest.
Shouldnt the men help, too?
Its their home, too; its their meal, too.
Why cant we all eat together?
And why didnt I, as a woman, have autonomy over the simplest decisionwhat to wear?
Or the most important decisionwho to marry?
At home, I had to fear my father.
The third time my husband hit me was also the third time he promised to never hit me again.
There was mental, emotional, and financial abuse, too.
I blamed the Sheikh for their tragedy; I called him corrupt and was prosecuted for it.
But wed never lived in America.
I asked my friend Mohammed for advice.
Mo ultimately helped me find a good school for Jori and an apartment close to her school.
But arriving to the United States did not go as Jori and I planned.
Two old, dirty gym mattresses covered the floorthey were our beds.
When I asked if I could access some aspirin from my confiscated bag, I was refused.
We went four days without a shower, with access only to a dirty public toilet.
We lay there in terror, not knowing what would happen to us.
I couldnt voice my greatest fear to Jori: Will they separate us at the detention center?
Thankfully, we werent separated at the detention center in San Antonio.
The criteria of what constitutes Credible Fear is purposefully left vague and broad and up to ICEs discretion.
Jori and I were comparatively lucky; we passed the CF interview and left the center after two weeks.
Some families have been there for many months.
We arrived in Cleveland in mid-January of 2019.
When I finally got my work permit in late February 2020, the pandemic hit.
I searched for a college teaching job (something relevant to my law degrees) but to no avail.
I also built an app calledBeu Salon.
Beu allows cosmetologists to serve their clients at home.
My two great lovespainting and writinghave generated some income, albeit small and sporadic.
Landlords looked at me and spoke to me with disdain and disgust.
Everything I needed to do for my child required her fathers presence and permission.
We talk about everythingeven the awkward stuff.
We have inside jokes, and we understand each others body language.
Its always been me and her against the world.
Weve been on adventures.
We didnt just dream of a better life; we took risks tohavea better life.
Ive always asked Joris opinion in everything I did, and always took her opinion seriously.
This has given her confidence and wisdom, and the belief that she matters and what she thinks matters.
When we arrived in the U.S., Jori was 13; now shes 15.
Then the school reopened and the kids had to go back full time.
Soon, theyre switching again to in-person classes full time.
The pandemic has drained us emotionally, and the cold winter has made it hard to even go hiking.
We didnt come this far, only to come this far.
Looking ahead, there are still uncertainties: the pandemic, our immigration trial.
But Jori and I remain hopeful.
This is our home now.
