From Somali Movie Theaters to the American Reality: Author Abdi Nor Iftin on Black Immigrants and the Pursuit of Justice

For millions of people around the globe, the United States has long been viewed as an unmatched beacon of freedom, economic opportunity, and political and religious liberty. It is a place where individuals go to forge a better life and grant their children a chance to succeed. Yet, beneath the grand promise of the American dream lies a more complicated and painful reality—particularly for immigrants who are Black.

Upon arriving in the United States, Black immigrants are immediately assigned a new, overarching identity that touches nearly every facet of their daily lives: that of a Black person in America. Distinct national, cultural, and linguistic identities are frequently overshadowed by this single racial designation. This transition often means facing immediate discrimination, stereotyping, and criminalization. The injustices experienced by Black individuals in America—whether they are native-born citizens or newly arrived immigrants—challenge fundamental assumptions about equality and opportunity.

These systemic issues were highlighted earlier this year by Michelle Bachelet, the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights. Following a comprehensive survey on racial discrimination and police brutality in the United States, Bachelet noted that police brutality has come to symbolize a systemic crisis causing pervasive daily, lifelong, generational, and too often lethal harm. While America is undeniably the land of trailblazing figures like Barack Obama, Maya Angelou, Thurgood Marshall, and Ida B. Wells, it is also the country where George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and countless others have lost their lives at the hands of law enforcement.

Recognizing these complex intersections is the focus of National African Immigrant Heritage Month, observed every September. It serves as an essential opportunity not only to celebrate and uplift the diverse stories of African immigrants, but also to confront a difficult question: How can the broader conversation surrounding immigration and Blackness move past superficial understandings and drive meaningful action?

A Childhood Shaped by Conflict and Cinema in Mogadishu

This tension between the idealized American dream and the stark realities of systemic racism forms the core of the experiences shared by Abdi Nor Iftin, author of the bestselling memoir Call Me American, which has recently been adapted into a version for young adult readers.

Growing up in Somalia in the early 1990s, Iftin’s early life was defined by the devastating realities of civil war and extreme poverty. His childhood coincided with the international intervention aimed at halting a famine that threatened millions of lives. Amid the loss of his home, property, and family stability—including the tragic death of his sister—Iftin found an unlikely source of hope and escape: American culture, absorbed primarily through Hollywood movies.

In Mogadishu, Iftin worked as an assistant at a local theater, which bore little resemblance to modern multiplexes in the West. Instead, it was a modest tin-roof shack with a corrugated iron top. Despite the humble setting, the films provided a window into a world of clean roads, automobiles, bustling shopping malls, and vibrant cityscapes that stood in stark contrast to the rubble outside. Later, hip-hop music amplified this fascination. Though he and his peers could not understand the complex lyrics, the visual imagery of freedom and prosperity fueled Iftin’s imagination and his dream of one day calling himself an American.

That dream, however, carried immense personal risk. By 2006, when Iftin turned twenty, radical Islamist insurgents under Al-Shabab had seized control of much of the region, imposing a strict regime that outlawed Western media, music, movies, and even specific styles of dress and socialization. Everything that sustained Iftin’s hope was criminalized. Realizing that staying meant facing persecution or death, he made the dangerous decision to seek a way out.

From Audio Diaries to a Perilous Journey to Freedom

Iftin’s path to the United States began with a chance encounter on the chaotic streets of Mogadishu. Having never traveled outside Somalia and possessing no international network aside from a brother stranded in the Dadaab refugee camp in Kenya, Iftin spotted a visiting American photojournalist taking pictures of war-torn buildings. Relying entirely on English he had learned from watching Hollywood movies, Iftin waved down the journalist. Despite the immediate danger posed by armed bodyguards pointing AK-47s at his face, the journalist agreed to speak with him, recognizing the value of his firsthand perspective.

The journalist published Iftin’s story in The Atlantic, which caught the attention of producers at a North Carolina-based public radio program called The Story. This connection allowed Iftin to begin broadcasting daily audio diaries detailing his life, family, and neighborhood amid the ongoing conflict. American listeners tuning in from their kitchens across the country heard his voice on the radio. Among them was a family in Maine who would eventually become his sponsors.

Driven by a network of nine Americans—including professors, aid workers, and doctors who formed "Team Abdi"—funds were raised to help him escape. In March 2011, Iftin made a harrowing journey across the border from Uganda into Kenya under the cover of midnight, dodging authorities before officially registering as a refugee with the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees. Despite enduring years of bureaucracy, including two denied student visa applications simply because he was classified as a refugee, Iftin’s persistence eventually paid off.

Arriving at Logan Airport and Confronting a Divided America

On the evening of August 11, 2014, Iftin finally landed at Logan International Airport in Boston. Describing the moment as surreal—akin to visiting another planet—he recalled being overwhelmed by the crispness of the air, the pristine cleanliness of his surroundings, and the profound relief of legal status. For the first time in his twenty-nine years, he was no longer stateless or a transient refugee; he was a lawful permanent resident on a clear path to citizenship.

Yet, his arrival coincided with a national watershed moment. Just hours before his plane touched down, Michael Brown was shot and killed in Ferguson, Missouri, igniting the nascent Black Lives Matter movement and thrusting nationwide discussions of racial injustice to the forefront. At the time, caught up in the sheer euphoria of his new life, Iftin was unaware of the events unfolding in Ferguson. But it was a harbinger of the realities he would soon encounter.

In the years following his arrival, particularly through the intense political polarization surrounding the 2016 presidential election and subsequent racial justice protests, Iftin observed what he describes as America taking off its mask. Far from the color-blind land of opportunity depicted in Hollywood films, he encountered a deeply divided society.

As a Black immigrant man driving through New England, Iftin found that freedom of movement was tempered by constant hyper-vigilance. The ghosts of his past—the PTSD and panic attacks from surviving civil war in Somalia and arbitrary police extortion in Kenya—were met with a new, lingering fear of racial profiling by law enforcement in the United States. He notes that the rhetoric emanating from political figures targeting Somalis and immigrants has only heightened the vulnerability felt by Black communities.

The Overlooked Intersection of Immigration and Racial Justice

Reflecting on his integration into American society, Iftin points to a significant disconnect within the broader immigrant rights movement. He argues that advocacy groups and institutional systems frequently flatten distinct national, cultural, and ethnic backgrounds into a single racial category. Upon arriving in the United States, immigrants from Africa are immediately subsumed under the label of "African American" or simply "Black," despite possessing vastly different languages, traditions, and lived experiences.

When filling out administrative forms or interacting with institutions, the nuances of being a Somali immigrant versus an African American are often erased. Iftin notes that his cultural heritage—rooted in Somali language, cuisine, and community—shares little in common with other African diasporic communities beyond skin color. Yet, in the eyes of law enforcement, employers, and the public, those distinctions disappear.

Despite these cultural differences, Iftin emphasizes that the safety and civil rights of Black immigrants and African Americans are inextricably linked. Because systemic bias and racial profiling do not differentiate between native-born citizens and naturalized residents, the struggles faced by the broader Black community directly impact African immigrants. He advocates for deeper, more intentional conversations that bring together African Americans and Black immigrants to share their distinct stories, bridge divides, and address shared vulnerabilities.

Despite the profound challenges and the stark contrast between the America he imagined in the tin-roof movie theaters of Mogadishu and the complex reality he navigates today, Iftin remains active in his community and continues to speak out at rallies and public forums. Reflecting on his journey, he captures the enduring paradox of his experience with a simple sentiment: "Only in America, we can do what we can."