Repeka Touli,
Murray, UT.
“Alien” is the one word I grew up hating because when I was old enough to carry an
Identification card (for having a job), I thought it was the coolest thing ever because it made me
feel like I‟ve grown up and I get to own one just like the adults did. Unbeknownst to me, I was
unaware of the impact it would have on me for years to come.
Every year for as long as I can remember, my parents and I would visit the Immigration office
which meant I had to miss a full day of school. Missing a day of school is like punishment to me
because it was my happy place as a child. In the Immigration office were a vast amount of
strangers sitting for the entire day, waiting for their turn to see the Immigration officer. I had no
idea why we were there to start with until I became a teenager. Nonetheless, it was a routine
thing in my mind because I have done it before, time and time again over the course of my young
years.
I sat and watched a number of people stand in front of a colored back-wall while their pictures
were taken to obtain their ID cards. I watched the next person get called up, take his/her picture,
but not before an officer walked up towards him and changed the color of the back-wall (for
point‟s sake…from blue to red) and I became confused and asked myself, “Why did he change
the color of the back-wall?” I quickly realized what that back-wall meant…One color was for
“Citizens” and the other for “Aliens” and suddenly, my world crashed and for the first time, I felt
like an “Alien” and an “outsider” in a place I called, “Home.” Sheer disappointment washed
over me and suddenly, the feelings of being ashamed hit me, followed by the agony of the reality
of my life‟s status: “So I am an ALIEN apparently.”
From that point on, I really took notice of the minute details on my ID card. Next to my name, I was referred to as “Alien,” and in those
moments, it hurt so much to come to the saddest realization and understanding of “why.” After
all my growing up years that my parents and I visited the Immigration Office, never did it occur
to me that it was to renew our “ALIEN” status in a place I have lived in for most of my young
life, a place I loved because it was my Home.
I started to question the purpose of such a harsh and derogatory term of identification because
as a youngster, the primary association of “ALIEN” I knew was: A tall, skinny, bald looking
creature with big grey eyes that by definition are, creatures from outer space, I used to see on
TV as a child. As a teenager at the time, I asked myself, “Who in their right mind would refer to
another human being as “alien” when there are better and more humane adjectives in the
dictionary to choose from?” What of “foreigner” or “non-citizen” “newcomer?” Surely there is a
better way to define the “other” other than “alien?”
“Alien” in short is “Alienated” or “Alienation” which by definition is: “To make indifferent
or hostile; to turn away; transfer or divert.” This is how I always felt or at least it made me feel
whenever I looked at my ID Card. What used to be something to be proud of became something
to be ashamed of, thus leaving me to feel segregated, looked-down at, frowned upon, demeaned,
an outsider, not belong just to name a few.
Last year I found some old Immigration forms and when I saw how I was referred to again as:
“Alien,” those ugly and degrading emotions came back to haunt me as an adult, therefore,
nothing has changed. The sad reality remains unchanged. If you are not from America, you are
simply labeled, ALIEN. The reality of this emotional nightmare happened in class one day. My
elementary teacher was marking something on her roll and called out to me, “Peka, where were
you born?” I did a quick justification in my young mind and said, “Here” referring to American Samoa. The feelings of „belonging‟ rather than being segregated came over me and for the time being, it felt so nice to be able to say: „Yes, I was born here, therefore, I am NOT an alien rather, I am just like everyone else. But then having been taught right from wrong haunted me for the
rest of that year until the following year when the next teacher asked me the same question again,
“Peka, where were you born?” to which I shamefully answered, “No.” Unfortunately, as an
adult, I still feel the same way. After living in another country for two decades before moving to
my “dream land” and to find the same description, “ALIEN” if you‟re not from America, it
becomes a scarring reminder that, “Oh that‟s right, you‟re still an „alien‟ because your ID card
says so.”
Who would have thought that one significant word like “ALIEN” could cause an explosion of
negative and alienated emotions to a young soul like mine? It is a subtle way to shun away the
spirit of unity in humanity, but not subtle enough for a young child “not” to notice. “So, I am an
Alien apparently.”
