Faculty View

Coming to America by Amany Ragab Hacking Associate Professor of Law

As a lawyer, a teacher and — most significantly — as an immigrant and fellow American, Professor Amany Ragab Hacking, '97, welcomed nearly 1,000 new U.S. citizens from 180 countries across the globe at the largest naturalization ceremony ever held in Missouri.

The U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services transformed the University's Chaifetz Arena into a crowded courtroom on Sept. 19 for the historic naturalization ceremony, which was sponsored by the School of Law and organized by the Public Interest Law Group.

As the ceremony's keynote speaker, Hacking, an Egyptian native who became a U.S. citizen in 1984, shared the story that chronicles her American citizenship while stressing to the new citizens the importance of knowing and asserting their constitutional rights.

The following is an edited version of Professor Hacking's keynote address:

Like all law students, I studied the Constitution, but I did not truly appreciate its words and impact until I took a class called "Constitution-making in South Africa" taught by Judge Albie Sachs. On the first day of class, Justice Sachs explained why he only has one arm. "I lost this arm because I openly challenged apartheid, that racist and segregated system that once governed South Africa," he explained.

He was a social activist and a judge who fought for justice and equality in a country where not everyone agreed with him. One day, he got into his car and it exploded. Someone had planted a bomb.

Justice Sachs says that he thanks God that those who disagreed with his beliefs only got his arm — not his mind, heart or spirit. He was not afraid of those who tried and did hurt him. He was afraid, however, for his country and what it would become if he and others like him did not bring about the necessary changes.

He continued to work for social justice and equality in South Africa, bringing constitutional scholars from America to South Africa to draft a constitution. The South Africans wanted a document that would withstand the test of time, bridge racial divides, create gender equality and serve as the rule of law.

They wanted a Constitution like ours. You see, in a way they wanted to be like us.

This class, like no other, gave me perspective and a new appreciation for what we Americans take for granted every day and the protections and rights our Constitution provides to each and every one of us.

This class made me proud to be an American.

The American Dream

Like you, though, I was not always an American. In fact, I almost did not make it to America.

Recently I was snooping around my parents' apartment and found some letters written in 1978 by my mom and dad after my father left Egypt for America.

"I can't tell you how difficult it is to raise these children alone," my mother wrote. "It is hard for me to feed them on my small government paycheck. Times are tough here. Please send money for our tickets so we can all be together in America."

My father replied: "My beloved, I am a stranger in a foreign land. I am trying to make ends meet. I work day and night and study for my medical board exams in between. Please be patient. I am trying to save money and will send for you soon, "Insha Allah" — God willing.

My mother grew restless. She was impatient, hardheaded and never gave up. These letters went on for months until one day our papers to America arrived. There was no money for our tickets. My mother sold her gold and anything else she could find to pay for our one-way tickets to America. I was a couple weeks shy of my 7th birthday; my brother Ahmed, 11; and my brother Khaled, 13.

We arrived in Chicago to a blizzard in January of 1979. My father was not entirely prepared for our arrival. Even as a doctor, he could barely afford to pay rent for his little apartment or feed four other people.
We struggled for several years. My father worked long hours every day. He went to any hospital that needed him and worked any shift he could get. I barely saw him.

My mother, with business and law degrees from Cairo University, worked various jobs, from office manager to nanny to real estate agent. Eventually, my father opened his own practice and we bought a house.

This may seem like a remarkable story — a family divided, then coming to America for a better life. But in my Chicago neighborhood this was really just ordinary. There were many others just like us.

Take my friend Carrie. Her parents came here from China. They worked days at a poultry shop and nights at a Chinese restaurant for years until her dad had enough money to buy his own poultry shop and restaurant.

There is also my friend Karina from Peru. Her father, a chiropractor, and her mother, a teacher, raised four children in a small apartment in Chicago. Their oldest child, Larina, went to The University of Chicago and got her doctorate degree at the University of California, Los Angeles.

Maral's parents were from Armenia. Her father worked nights at an electrical plant near their house for more than 25 years until their oldest son joined the company as an engineer.

On the surface, we were all different, coming from different parts of the world to this country. We spoke different languages and ate different foods. We practiced different religions. But we lived just blocks from each other, and when we were together, we were family.

We shared the same struggles as immi-grants, trying to fit in while still holding on to our culture, language and religion. We grew up together, confided in each other and shared our fears and dreams.

You see, we are all more alike than different, our stories more ordinary than extraordinary. We are all immigrants, each with our own stories.
And we are all American. That is what America is made of: immigrants like you and me.

Life Lessons

I was a little girl when I became a U.S. citizen, but I did not participate in any ceremony or celebration. There was no real recognition of that moment in my life even though it was one of the most significant.

What I remember about those early years is getting my American passport and returning to Egypt for the first time — this time as an American. I went to the store by myself to buy sugar cane juice, "aeseer aeseb," with my own money. The salesman asked me where I was from.

I responded, "What do you mean? I am from here, Egypt."

He said, "Well, where have you been living? You have been living somewhere else for some time."

At an early age, I knew I would have these two identities — Egyptian and American — for the rest of my life. I learned an important lesson that day: Never forget where you came from and don't stay away too long.

Another lesson I learned in those early years in America is never forget your native tongue and don't take it for granted. My mother used to say "use it or lose it." I began speaking my native language more and more and even studied it in college. It's something that I hope to pass on to my children so they can go to Egypt and order their own aeseer aeseb and better understand their family's stories.

Constitutional Rights

As American citizens, you have many rights guaranteed to you by the Constitution. People may assume because of your accent, your name or the color of your skin that you don't know your rights as an American citizen.
Don't be taken advantage of. Read the Constitution and learn your rights. You have the right to speak your mind in this country, not to speak to the police, the right to an attorney, the right to privacy, the right to practice your religion, the right not to be discriminated against at work or in housing. If you don't know these rights, they can't protect you.

As with all rights come obligations as citizens. The first one to come to mind is voting, especially this year. It is your American right and obligation. Get involved in the democratic political process; put up a yard sign, donate to candidates, pass out flyers. Be a part of the system and process — it means more.

Serve on a jury. You are serving your country when you fulfill this obligation.

Go and learn about the legal system.

Be a part of this community. Embrace this culture and society to its fullest, with all its beauty and imperfections.

Meet your neighbors. Teach us about your culture, your religion and your way of life. That is what makes America great.

And when you return to visit your native country, tell them about America — now as an American.