Photo above: Amina soaking up knowledge in her professor's library.

By Amina Alaoui Soulimani (YES 2013-2014, Morocco, hosted by PAX in Harbor Springs, Michigan)

I was granted the amazing opportunity of being a Kennedy-Lugar Youth Exchange and Study (YES) student in 2013-2014 in one of the most beautiful places on earth, Harbor Springs in Northern Michigan. I am currently in my third year of studying Social Sciences at the African Leadership University on the island of Mauritius. A year and a half ago, I finished writing a book called Beyond America, which, after many editing phases, became a chronicle of the patience, love, discovery, and personal growth I encountered during my exchange year. Through my writing, I reflect on the way I see educational systems, social constructs, cultural appropriation, and misrepresentations of religions and ethnic identities.

Like any voyage, my journey in the United States wasn’t an easy one. Having chosen not to communicate with my natural family and friends in Morocco for the entire stay left me with many uncertainties about my identity and origins, and about how I fit within my new community. Halfway through my exchange year, I started writing as a way to reflect on my experiences. Writing became to me, in poetry as in prose, a powerful tool that expanded one’s history, emotions, and feelings to reach out to the world, inspire people, and paint a reality that creates vast spaces of hope in times of separation.

Photo: Amina and fellow YES students during the Civic Education Workshop in DC in February 2014. 

Beyond America is divided into three parts: a narration of my exchange journey, a letter exchange between my father and I, and finally my story of going back home. The book targets young thinkers, adults, and teenagers. It invites readers to reflect on their journeys of solitude and traveling, while conveying a message on the importance of holding on to one’s own heritage and beliefs. Most importantly, the book focuses on the purpose of the journey itself rather than the destination, especially when one becomes lost, internally and externally, in the midst of disruptive change. 

Excerpt from Part 1, Chapter 12 of Beyond America: 

Despite the passing time, I couldn’t let go of the rituals I had started when I first arrived. After school, I bolted towards the boardwalk leading from Bluff Avenue to downtown Harbor Springs. I would stop by the public library to check the free books or the $1 shelves. I loved to say hi to Susan, the librarian who did not hesitate on the first day we met to allow me to take books home without a single form of ID to prove my identity. 

That year, the beautiful town dealt me a severe winter. Sometimes the boardwalk was icy enough to cause me to slip uncontrollably, almost falling off the cliff. Winter in the little town of Harbor Springs taught me to never trust, always keep my hands on the wooden barriers on both edges, and be responsible for my own life – physically, mentally, and emotionally. 

Nevertheless, Harbor Springs, a little town which was only revived in summer time, became a town I grew so attached to. The boats and fancy yachts stayed as still as one of Fitz Lane’s paintings, waiting in the harbor for their owners to return after a long year of work and travel.

There were many little gestures that may have seemed insignificant to some, but which left a tremendous impact on my soul. Some days, it was a simple smile from Betty, the school janitor, every time I thanked her for sticking lost pennies with Abraham Lincoln’s face on my locker, or sweet words from Julietta Ouellet's loving mother. 

Yet the biggest challenge was finding answers to questions such as, “What did I come here for?” and “What have I achieved so far?” I was brusquely moved to more realistic convictions; changing one’s residency doesn’t make a difference if one doesn’t let the change come in. I was happy despite the ups and downs with my host family and my own emotional roller coaster.

The happiness that emerged within me during my last months was not dependent on anyone’s presence, and nothing could take it away. It had pierced my flesh with its claws, holding me tightly as a mother would hold her newborn. It was enough for me to wander or get lost in nature to feel liberated from all the anxiety I carried. Cheerfulness blossomed inside me and gave birth to a large plantation of little joys.