There is something magical about seeing dreams come true. When you are an immigrant, the magic takes on the appearance of a miracle. Especially if the path taken to reach a new home is the opposite of that of colonization.
This is because what has been conventionally called the “Old World” has always reserved its most prosperous paths for those who are already here and have always been here. Those who arrive from outside often have to make do with what is left over and thank the heavens for having been accepted on such competitive soil.
Immigrating is, therefore, venturing into the new, bringing dreams with you in your little luggage. Continuing to dream once you have reached your destination is in itself an act of courage.
But there are, among so many who venture out, those who do not shrink to fit into the empty spaces of this old world. Who, still hurt by the harshness of the crossing and the solitary journey to learn how to navigate in an old new world, still manage to have the audacity to try to transform those dreams that came in the suitcase into reality.
This weekend I witnessed one of these daring acts. Two Brazilian immigrant women meet in Paris and discover that they share the same impossible dream: to open a restaurant in the birthplace of gastronomy. No contacts, no family inheritance, no plan B.
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The old world tried to dissuade them from their dream—which by then had already become a plan—by closing doors, imposing bureaucracy, questioning their abilities, testing their resilience. And there were times when the two, after months of using their French full of Brazilianness, thought it would be impossible.
Help came from another part of the world, from the pocket and courage of another Brazilian immigrant who had also faced the difficult path to call another country home.
Finally, this Saturday, Trigo was born, behind a moss-green facade amidst colorless buildings. The name symbolizes the transformation of the simple into the extraordinary and there could be no better translation — or in a better language — for the boldness of these girls in cementing in the world that which only existed in their desires.
As I toasted this birth with people coming from so many places, I heard someone shout “Long live the immigrants!”
On Sunday, just 24 hours later, France announced a crushing defeat for the far right in the second round of legislative elections. The far right defends a radical position against immigration.
A week earlier, here in Britain, another election had removed the Conservative Party from power, the party that, in 2016, contributed heavily to the disastrous referendum that resulted in the United Kingdom leaving the European Union.
I boarded the train back home with a renewed sense of hope. We have no control over the soil that greets us when we are born, nor should it dictate our future, much less our ability to turn dreams into reality.
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