This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at BU chapter.

I have known Ruby for going on six years. We went to high school together and have remained close friends after moving on to separate colleges on the East coast. The other day I was talking to Ruby about immigration and some recent policy changes enacted in the United States that make it harder to allow immigrants to enter the United States. She spoke to me about her mother’s experience immigrating to the United States from Uganda. I asked her if I could interview her about her own experience as a first-generation immigrant because I wanted to share her story and perspective with a larger audience.

Could you please introduce yourself?

Hello my name is Ruby Bantariza, I’m 19 years old, and I’m from Arizona.

Where is your mother from?

My mom is from Uganda.

When and why did she immigrate to the United States?

She immigrated to the United States in 1996 seeking education and employment opportunities.

In your own words, what has your experience been growing up as the daughter of an immigrant in a country with a history of strong racial divides and prejudices?

Racism doesn’t care if you’re Ugandan, Jamaican, African American etc. When my mom first came to this country, a housemate she was meant to share a room with moved out upon seeing she was black. This was just the first of many racist experiences my mom would endure as she began to establish a home for herself in this country. In Uganda, my grandparents didn’t have to tell my mom about the injustices and prejudices that would be inflicted upon her, but this was something she had to do for me growing up in the US. The community I spent the most time growing up in is predominately white, and I was often the only black student in the class or one of a handful in the whole school. There was this weird game of tug-o-war going on between my identity of being Ugandan and being African-American.

A lot of the time, the shared idea of blackness being a monolith was projected onto me by my environment. I tended to care more about being a version of myself that was the most palatable for my community instead of embracing my multidimensionality. The only time I saw myself reflected in pedagogy was during Black History month or when it was time to cover The Civil Rights Movement section in US history. I hated it because of the heightened amount of stares I would get after every injustice was explained. It’s sad as I reflect back on this; it’s very clear that it was taught in a way that valued the white students being comfortable over informed. Although this history definitely pertains to my life as an African American, there was no history taught about Uganda, let alone Africa. After my World History class I could tell you about Martin Luther and his 95 Theses or that King Louis XIII of France had two rows of teeth, but I couldn’t tell you one thing about the colonization of Africa. Although it’s been very interesting, it’s also been super rewarding. My mom comes from a beautiful country with a rich culture that I’m immensely grateful to call my own.

Are you still connected with your family in Uganda?

Yes I am. Although I don’t get to go back that often, the time spent there is always special. My grandparents’ farm gives me an undisputed sense of peace. Family is defined by looser terms in Uganda compared to the US, which means having even more cousins, uncles, and aunts than you thought you had. It’s awesome.

If you had the opportunity to speak to someone who doesn’t understand why immigrants are vital to the United States, what would you say?

Immigrants are what make this country what it is. It’s no secret that the only nonimmigrants in America are Native Americans, but now the contention conveniently targets immigrants of color. These individuals are often fleeing forms of structural and physical violence or seeking educational and financial opportunities. They’re now separated from so much, whether that’s hugging a loved one, dancing at a cultural celebration, or even visiting their favorite local restaurant. Despite the difficulties they face, for decades immigrants have contributed so much to America’s economy and society. They are our doctors, engineers, owners of our favorite restaurants, and much more. Immigrants also share cultures and customs with their new communities which contributes to a generation of Americans more aware of cultures and customs that exist beyond this country.

What lessons has your mother taught you from her own experiences?

Referring back to the story about her roommate that moved out, my mom always told me to not let the hateful intentions of others allow me to reflect poorly on myself. Although this was a lesson that took me a while to learn, it was an important piece of advice to have growing up. She also instilled in me the wise old saying of “never forget where you come from.” To me, this had always meant to remain humble and thankful for all life has offered. As I’ve gotten older it has specifically called me to remember the people and land I’m from while living in a society that seems to want me to forget.

Although I went to high school with Ruby for four years, I never knew her or her mother’s complete story. It is true that we are living in an America that has forgotten we would never exist if it had not been for immigrants looking for a better place to live in the 1600s. The most important thing we can do right now is to be able to take the perspectives of those who are being discriminated against and enact change in our local communities surrounding the unfair way in which minorities are being treated.

While it may be easy to lose hope amidst the current situation of our government, we must remember that change comes from the actions of people like you and me.

A Conversation with a First-Generation Immigrant

While it may be easy to lose hope amidst the current situation of our government, we must remember that change comes from the actions of people like you and me.

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