What it's like to be an immigrant in a time of uncertainty

What does it mean to leave everything behind for somewhere new? To leave the streets you recognize, the places you know, and even your family members?

Dina Nayeri left Iran when she was 10 years old. Now, as a novelist, she's exploring the themes of isolation, assimilation and immigration in her new book "Refuge."

Nayeri joined MPR News host Kerri Miller to talk about the sense of dislocation and estrangement that comes to new immigrants in the U.S. The conversation turned to how recent events — including the protests in Charlottesville, Va. — complicate any feeling of belonging.

"For me, as a first-generation immigrant, it's heartbreaking, particularly as a new mother," Nayeri said of watching the Charlottesville violence. "I see my daughter, who is very clearly Iranian, and I remember what it was like for me when I first arrived: the feeling of outsiderness, the feeling of not belonging. Being not just a pariah but extra, not wanted, very much a symbol of what is wrong with the world in other people's minds.

"As an American, and as a naturalized American, it makes me more than just nervous, it breaks my heart. It takes away the welcome I so longed for until I got it. It takes me right back to those memories of the citizenship ceremony and all of the moments where Americans welcomed me."

Listeners called to share their own experience as first-generation Americans, watching the news unfold.

Listeners speak: What it's like to be an immigrant right now

Caller: "Not belonging, no matter what, after all these years"

"I understand this place you are discussing this morning, about being in existential purgatory: Coming from a home because of violence and prosecution because of who you are. As an Oromo family, that's what my family faced and we found a home in the United States back in 2000. There was hope to finally find a place of security and peace.

"That latest display of hate and so much unwelcoming of us or people like us puts me in a place where you really don't have a home. Because you left one for the other, and you can't go back to the previous one and you are not welcome here. That's what I call existential purgatory: not belonging, no matter what, after all these years."

Caller: "With the things in the news, we're being reminded that we're different"

"I have a young family and my husband and I are both professionals. We have been making plans for our future and career advancement and becoming productive citizens in this society. I'm originally from Somalia and I live in Minneapolis, the second-largest settlement of Somalis outside Somalia, so I feel pretty comfortable making these future goals.

"But in light of what has happened in the news now, we're having to think twice: Do we need a plan B? Can we build a life here? It's echoing what your last caller said: With the things in the news, we're being reminded that we're different."

Caller: "I struggle with moving on and making a home here"

"When I came here — I'm from Somalia — I was 15. I remember much more vividly than those who were younger than me. My biggest problem has been letting it go. I struggle with moving on and making a home here. It's been 16 years, and I love living here. I don't have an intention of ever going back, I know this is where home is, but... A lot of people will talk about the negative and the war, but I remember the good stuff.

"I would be walking down the street and I would get this sense of smell that I recognize, but I know it's in my head because there's nothing that smells like that around here. Or I miss a piece of fruit that grows over there and not here. Or I would forget myself and tell stories about being a child and playing inside ... How do you deal with that? How do you cope with that?"

Caller: "Sometimes I have to remind myself I'm not white"

"I'm a first-generation Hmong from Laos. I think the Hmong story in Minnesota has actually been told many times. When we came here in 1976, I was 3 years old. I've grown up with some of the racist-type remarks, being in school as the outcast. As I grew up, going through the education system and living in the Twin Cities, seeing more of the influx of the Hmong people come in, I've become very comfortable. I'm proud to say I'm a Minnesotan.

"It's hard for me to imagine moving out to another state, in fear of events like Charlottesville happening. Sadly, I don't see racism disappearing any time soon, in my lifetime or my children or grandchildren's lifetime. But living in Minnesota and the Twin Cities, and being a health care professional interacting with many other diverse professionals, I've gotten so comfortable I sometimes I have to remind myself I'm not white.

"I can walk away from a meeting of professionals, being one of the only minorities in the room, and as I'm driving home I remind myself: I'm not white. The comments I made in that room, or the interactions I've had, I'm like: What were these people thinking about having a small Asian guy interacting with them? Sometimes I wonder that."