Loading ...Abe Kasbo’s “A Thousand And One Journeys” and the Need for Arab American Stories
SOURCE: HUFFPOST
BY TODD FINE
Arab Americans have made a number of proactive efforts to tell stories of belonging, community, and achievement that contradict the dominant media narratives of violence and difference. In many cases, rather than corporate or nonprofit programs, these have been individual passion projects, formed out of conviction, hope, and sacrifice — on the proverbial “wing and a prayer.” Historically, it has been extremely difficult to locate funding for cultural and media projects involving Arab Americans, and the people who have persisted nonetheless deserve respect.
Abe Kasbo, the producer of A Thousand And One Journeys: The Arab Americans (2015), is one of these storyteller apostles. In 2007, he began work on a feature-length documentary film about the centuries-long history of Arab Americans, and ten years later, the project is achieving its pinnacle with a nationwide distribution on PBS stations across the country. The film includes interviews with individuals like Senator George Mitchell, Jamie Farr, General John Abizaid, and Helen Thomas — familiar figures who many may not realize are Arab American. The film is modest and intimate. Its magic comes in the magic of the American dream itself, and not in any attempt to be sensational or provocative.
Kasbo himself immigrated to New Jersey from Aleppo, Syria in 1980 at the age of ten, yet he feels deeply connected to a much longer Arab American story and to the fundamental American immigration story itself. In order to understand the motivations and thinking behind this successful film, I decided to interview him.
Even though you are a fairly recent immigrant to the United States, you have chosen to tell stories of much earlier generations of immigrants and their descendants. Do you feel a connection with these early immigrants? What first attracted you to this topic?
About three months after my family and I arrived here in the States, I was talking with a friend at school. He asked something like, “Why do you guys hate us?” I couldn’t understand what he was talking about because no one I knew in Aleppo seemed to hate the United States. Everyone I knew loved American blue jeans! And even though Syria was a client state of the Soviet Union, I don’t remember seeing any Russian products growing up. American stuff? It was all over the place.
American popular culture was a part of our lives. I had a crush on Melissa Gilbert, the actress who played Laura Ingalls on “Little House on the Prairie.” I danced to Diana Ross. And I played Cowboys and Indians on the dusty streets of Aleppo out of a love for “The Virginian,” the old TV Western. All of my friends lived and loved American culture in the same way…
Thirty-seven years later, due to negative stereotypes perpetuated by popular media, American people still seem to think that Arabs largely hate them. So my goal with this film was to provide viewers with a counter narrative to all of these negative perceptions.
I understood early on in my new American life that my personal immigration story was connected to a much larger story, and not necessarily an “Arab American” immigrant story strictly. I feel a connection to the American immigrant story overall. All Americans — from Paul Revere to George Washington, from Lee Iacocca to Arnold Schwarzenegger, and from Ralph Nader to Danny Thomas — have contributed and built this great country. This feeling of shared contribution is what fascinated me about America when I was growing up in Aleppo.
The fact that there’s a place, a guiding light for the world, where people can come and build their own future from their talents is enough to inspire almost anybody — especially the dreamers — to consider immigrating to the United States. So my fundamental connection is to the greater immigration story, which is really the story of the dream and promise of America. So seeing Arab Americans not play their rightful role in this story — and be further burdened by gross misconceptions — drove me to make the film.
Because there is so much confusion and negative perception about Arabs and Arab immigrants, storytelling about Arab American history can seem like an inherently political act. These stories seem subversive even in their sheer normality, mundaneness, and universality. What is the essence of the Arab American experience that you seek to communicate?
The public opinion about Arabs and Arab Americans can’t be characterized as just “confused.” It’s a one-way street of ubiquitous misconceptions because the narrative is consistently negative. I first noticed this negative narrative not long after we immigrated here in 1980, and today nothing has improved, except that perhaps the message is amplified because of the intensity of our relentless media environment.
Yet, the true history speaks for itself, and the Arab American story is remarkable in its depth and contribution. This story has simply never been told in popular media. Arab Americans are indeed an essential part of the American experience and fabric. This is undeniable.
So this film places the Arab American story within the American historical mainstream and shares this story with the audience. If the audience walks away with a positive perspective of Arab Americans, it is because they’ve learned the truth about the community and its contributions, as well about its specific roles in military, business, politics, health care, entertainment, and sports. By just presenting these facts, I think I’ve done my job.
With accelerating sectarianism and growing salience of religious identity, people are making more and more distinctions between Arab immigrants of Christian and of Muslim backgrounds, suggesting religion is more defining than nationality, language, and culture. How do you see this phenomenon? How do you think that the historical experience of Arab immigration to the United States should inform our understanding of religious identity among Arab immigrants today?
Almost everyone I have met in my thirty-seven years in the United States, first as an immigrant, and then as a citizen, has assumed I am Muslim after learning that I grew up in Syria. They are surprised when I tell them I am Catholic (Armenian Rite to be precise). Early on, I was genuinely surprised that Americans did not seem to know that there was a sizable Christian community in Syria or the Middle East. Where did they think Jesus or St. Paul walked? Certainly not Ireland or Rome!
At the same time, implicit in their surprise about my Christianity was a tone of treating Islam as “an other.” I felt, embarrassedly, like somehow my Christianity made me more acceptable. What such folks didn’t and still don’t understand is that, in fact, Muslims and Christians have lived side by side for centuries. Muslim rulers have protected Christian minorities historically, and there’s a deep reverence for Jesus and Mary in Islam.
Let me be clear: of course it’s not all rainbows and unicorns, and there are serious political issues that are forcing conflict across religious lines in Syria and elsewhere, but for the most part, in my experience, the people themselves respect each other and live, work, and socialize across religions.
With regard to the religious identity of Arab Americans, the first wave of immigration in the period before and after World War I was largely Christian, as was the second wave after World War II until the early 1970s. The late seventies and the eighties saw many more Muslims immigrating from Arabic-speaking nations. And these communities, like the earlier Christian waves, established religious institutions that mirrored the religious institutions back home.
Fortunately, today, within the Arab American community, I am seeing more and more outreach and dialogue between religious communities, especially among the younger generations. This dialogue should continue and expand as much as possible. I believe that it is more important than ever for Arab Americans to unite across religious lines in order to educate the public about their heritage and history.
Note: The film is rolling out on PBS stations across the country; check your local listings. The film’s social media accounts on facebook and twitter will also announce local showings.
