Lost in Translation: Finding Confidence and Community in LEAD

Since she moved to New York, Ilaria struggled with questions about her nationality. Joining our diverse community inspired her to regain pride in her origins. 

The question pops up almost immediately. 

Sometimes it is as fast as a “Hi, how are you?”. Other times they need to look at me, and it is hard to understand what helps them make the assumption. It never takes more than a few seconds before they ask: “Where are you from?”

I have heard these four words countless times since I moved to New York. At first, I was excited to talk about my home country, the childlike pleasure of being the center of attention. In short order, I tell people I am from Italy. They ask: “What part?”, nod quickly at my answer, and recall a marvelous trip to (insert: Rome, Florence, Venice, the Amalfi Coast, or any popular tourist destination) and all the yummy food they ate. 

Students share a few sentences from their Italian classes or semester abroad. Soccer fans speak of Italian players and clubs they follow.  Italian Americans name the small village from where a great-great-grandparent emigrated. When I admit I have never heard of it, let alone been there, they do not hide their disappointment. I want to tell them more. I want them to know Italy’s international reputation of good people and good food is misleading. It covers up that the unemployment rate was in the double digits even before the coronavirus pandemic. To this day, youths migrate for lack of opportunities. Refugees survive deadly journeys in the Mediterranean Sea and the Balkan route to find widespread racism and institutional inertia. A behemoth of dysfunctional bureaucracy and corruption crushes dreams and merit. The LGBTQ community is a victim of a patriarchal mentality and policies. For the same reasons, I cannot blame Italian women for the lowest birth rate in the Western world. When Americans ask me where I am from, I want to discuss all these issues, but I know that is not what they expect to hear, and I do not want to burst their bubbles.

With time, I learned to keep my answers to the point. I smile politely and make small talk. I have finally come to understand what Ayelet Gundar-Goshen wrote in her novel Waking Lions: “To emigrate is to leave one place for another, with the place you’ve left tied to your ankle with steel chains. If it’s difficult for a person to emigrate, it’s only because it’s difficult to walk in the world when an entire country is shackled to your ankle, dragging behind you wherever you go.” In my mind, my accent became my steel chain, the only audible evidence that tied me to Italy. I stopped watching Italian TV and reading Italian newspapers. I started speaking less and less and sheltering behind my American husband. 

When it came to job hunting in the US market, my confidence took a hit. I convinced myself that I could only look for positions with and for other Italians. Why would a US company or nonprofit organization hire me when I still needed to double-check every email on Grammarly? Why would they put me in charge of a presentation when I still Googled and rehearsed the correct pronunciation of every word? When the pandemic shattered thousands of businesses and sent millions of employees packing, my self-consciousness increased. With all the US-educated native English speakers, why would they choose me?   

At one of my lowest points, I stumbled upon New Women New Yorkers (NWNY) and their LEAD program. I joined the info session and immediately found myself in a safe space with other participants and volunteers. Workshop after workshop, I connected with dozens of immigrant women who shared my fears and insecurities. Some of them had to reinvent their careers and learn English in their 40s and 50s. Some had just arrived in the country when the lockdown shut down New York. With no friends and family, they found their new support system in NWNY, a judgment-free community of fellow women. 

Thanks to the LEAD facilitators, we did not only acquire crucial skills for the US job market, but we also built our confidence with public speaking and professional planning. We inspired each other with our stories of perseverance. What I had perceived as the burden of my home country became an asset. The variety of accents in the 2-hour Zoom meetings reminded me of the long ways we have come and our resilience in this journey.