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Hardcover
First published January 1, 1998
cutting off the clitoris and labia minora; cutting off the clitoris, labia minora, and some portion of the labia majora and stitching the lips together, leaving a small opening near the anus for the passage of urine and blood.
There was nothing there. Nothing. She had no genitals. Just smooth flesh with a long scar running vertically between her legs where her genitals should have been . And a hole. A gaping hole where the urine and blood would pass through. She kept her legs spread apart, talked to me very calmly and soothingly, very matter-of-factly. “You see?” They cut me and then they sewed me up like this.”
That was how things worked in our culture. My father had questioned and rejected a number of tribal customs and traditions, but he'd never questioned or rejected that one—the power of the patriarchy.
That's what nineteen days in B.A.U. [(Behaviorial Analysis Unit)] had done to me—I felt "lucky" to be in a prison.It's important to be careful with books like these. On the one hand, this is an invaluable document that demonstrates the constant rock-and-a-hard-place in the contest of human rights between imperial powers and their once possessed postcolonial nations. On the other, the quote by the infamous Gloria Steinem gives me pause, as the name is almost inevitably tied to the most harmful of simplifications in terms of gender, violence, and, ultimately, who deserves humanity and who does not. I saw a bit of that here and there, but the vast majority of this text is blunt about not only all that can and will happen despite all that is trumpeted about rules and regulations, but also about how there are truly good people in this world, from the Autobahn of Berlin to the halls of American University in Massachusetts to the markets of Kpalimé, Togo. The conflict between these two forces is constant, and as said in the epilogue, there's a chance that Kassindja would have had an even worse time of it had she asked for asylum around the time of this book's publication rather than five years prior. Progress, then, is nothing to be taken for granted, and Kassindja's testimony isn't old enough to be discounted as 'that was then, this was now', if ever that sort of discounting was ever viable.
I'm not sure how the public interest was served by my incarceration.
["O]ver 97 percent of the detained immigrants are people of color"—even though 5 of the top 20 countries for illegal immigrants are [white].I don't have to be as wary about this book as I am about other examples of its type (Infidel comes immediately to mind) because of how little it messes around with its context and reality. It's never as simple as Islamophobic, white savior complex would have as believe, and yet the protests about internment camps that have recently been replaced by multiple mass shooting reportage in US headlines (what a country, am I right) demonstrates that Kassindja's experiences have only just begun for thousands of others, millions if one acknowledges that the hard line she draws between detained refugees and incarcerated convicts is not nearly as credible in the US as the text espouses. There's a lot wrong with the US savior narrative/world police force situation maintained by myriad military bases and CIA fueled "interventions (I have to wonder how much of Operation Paperclip leaked into the US' information agency), and I'm not going to say that this book should have gone into it. However, it is important to take an inch without giving a mile, and while I know many aspects of Kassindja's story remain true decades later, her story and those of many others have intrinsic political usefulness, for good and for ill. For example, rape and sexual slavery does not merely target a single category of gender, not in '94 and not now, and it's these sorts of absolutist statements one must make not of and commit to being more informed about if one truly wants to incorporate Kassindja's work into a larger, more holistic awareness of the intersection of legal, social, national, ethnic, and historical in the broad span of oppression, from the days before female genital mutilation was codified in law as a crime to the now of political pundits arguing that they aren't technically concentration camps.
Housing INS [(Immigration & Naturalization Service)] detainees is such good business for York [County Prison] that there were plans to expand the prison so it could hold five hundred detainees...All that money. And the prison didn't treat refugees any better than it treated convicts. If anything, it treated us worse.So. Did I like this book? Yes, very much so. I think it is extremely valuable, especially in today's political environment, as it gives a humanizing base to work off of in terms of nitty gritty sociojudicial reality: what ends up working, what doesn't, and how long it can go on, despite all assumptions and preparations birthed from experience and common sense. I'm even glad for once that I let this work sit on my shelves for as long as it did, as it just wouldn't have hit home as much before the narrative of "illegal immigrant" really started pissing me off. Kassindja's family is still trapped in US prisons and US detention centers and US concentration camps, and twenty-one years has only augmented the tech and expedited the deportation process. There's a grueling trek in front of those committed to humanizing the dehumanized, whether victim of the non-US country of their birth or the prison industrial complex of my homeland, and letting ourselves get used to any of it paves the way to 1930's Germany. To naysayers: I wish I were joking. Kassindja's story is too old to be a wake up call, but it bears repeating that the worst is yet to come if we let it.
Fauziya prevailed because she had the opportunity to appeal Judge Ferlise's decision to the Board of Immigration Appeals, which reversed the immigration judge's decision. Under expedited removal, such an appeal is no longer possible...[W]e simply do not know what effect the elimination of procedural safeguards will have on asylum seekers like Fauziya Kassindja, who continue to arrive seeking protection.
[W]e must recognize that you and I—all of us who are citizens of the U.S.—are responsible for the actions of our government, and in particular for the restrictive measures against immigrants. In recent years we have expressed a fear of "illegal immigrants,"...We fear that we are being overrun by "aliens" and we believe that we are protecting ourselves and our families by keeping them out. Toward these ends, we have encouraged our congressional representatives to enact restrictive measures[.]
Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breath free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!
-Emma Lazarus, Statue of Liberty inscription