Never fully rooted
Interview Alphabets of Flesh
Hani Rahsepar is the founder of Diaspora Radio, a radio show about the diaspora community from South and West Asia and North Africa. He was born in Iran and has lived in the Netherlands since he was four years old.
Hani: “My mother always said: ‘In society you start out three points behind, so when your friends at school get a seven, you have to get a ten’. In my puberty, that extreme urge to perform diminished, because I noticed that it made little difference to the label I was given. Why should I do my best to show that I belonged or was even better, while they continued to treat me with contempt?
I do not feel Dutch, because white Dutch people have regularly made it clear to me that I am not. But when is something ‘Dutch’ in a multicultural society? Even tulips and mills, which I used to think were typically Dutch, did not originally come from the Netherlands. People are often looking for clearly defined labels, but I consider my ethnic identity to be fluid.”
Home
“My parents and I came to the Netherlands when I was four. Recently, I realised that we have been living in the Netherlands for thirty years. I then had flashbacks to the trip to the Netherlands, the asylum seekers’ centre, the loneliness of life without family, our first home in Sassenheim and the uncertainty of only being allowed to stay in the Netherlands after eight years.
I don’t know if I’ve ever really felt at home in the Netherlands. In Amsterdam – actually a very diverse city – I often encounter systems and situations that show me that I do not belong. Whether this is in private life, at work or within the communities in which I find myself. In any case, my view is that home is a place where you feel comfortable, where your presence is recognised and where there is room for everyone to grow and experiment and live together.”
Smell
“For me, the smell of hot sun on dusty earth that someone just threw water over is the smell of Iran. I once stood in Iran on the corner of a street where someone was watering plants with a water hose. When some of the water touched a pile of sand, I knew: this is the smell! It immediately evoked a certain longing.
The first time we went back to Iran was when I was fourteen. When we got off the plane, the heat hit my face hard. It felt good. There was an image in my mind that I had seen on TV, of people visiting their native land and kissing the ground, because they are back where they are rooted. I didn’t kiss the ground, but somehow it felt like it. I knew: this belongs to me. It was bizarre to see people who all look like me and constantly hear the language I normally only hear from my parents’ mouths. Both times I went back to Iran, I experienced a lot of serenity in my body at first. After a while, that feeling disappeared, because you know what kind of political, social and economic situation your family and other people are in.
The funny thing is that I also have this feeling of coming home in the Netherlands. When I come back from vacation and hear people speak Dutch again and feel the cold weather and the rain, I think: this is where I belong. In fact, my sense of home is constantly on the move.”
Taking root
“On the one hand, I’m constantly taking root somewhere, but on the other hand, I don’t want to because I know what it feels like to be uprooted. Even though I was very young when we left Iran, it had a huge impact. Maybe this is some kind of defence mechanism, the reason why I never dare to take root.
I have learned to adapt to my environment in many ways. Whether I’m hanging out with the boys on the corner of the street or I’m with all white, elitist people, I can take on all those roles. As a result, I wonder sometimes: who is the real me? That is a constant struggle.”