That summer, I left for a residency at VCCA Moulin a Nèf, in Auvillar, France, where, the very first night, I stumbled upon an albergues—a welcoming hostel for pilgrims who walk the Camino de Santiago.

This book was born out of that spirit of pilgrimage and sanctuary, marking the third novel I have written exploring the post-9/11 experience for immigrant and especially Muslim teenagers. When Rania stands before the Brooklyn Bridge, she invokes the spirit of Walt Whitman, who keenly understood the transformative possibilities of America, which has always been changed and replenished by each new, surging wave of people.

Two significant backdrops also inform this story: the draconian immigration policies instituted in the US in 2018, when asylum-seeking families were separated at the border, and the ICE crackdowns and dragnet sweeps that became a regular, terrifying occurrence for immigrants. The other backdrop is the increasing authoritarianism, suppression, and censorship of journalists in many countries. At the time of Abu’s “disappearance,” violence and murder of journalists in Pakistan was at an all-time high. Today, throughout the world, journalists are imperiled for doing their job by reporting the truth. It is to them I—and all of us—are forever indebted.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

A huge shout out to Lauren Blodgett, inspiring founder of The Brave House, an organization for immigrant young women and gender-expansive youth. She allowed me to be a fly on the wall with her in immigration court, and graciously vetted this manuscript. So too did Loretta Lopez and Afia Nathaniel, who combed the manuscript for cultural nuances. Stephanie Gibbs of Safe Passage, Dan Kesselbrenner—former executive director of the National Immigration Project—and Andrew Painter provided further legal clarification.

Many people encouraged and inspired me as I wrote: Rabbi Elliot of Bnai Keshet in Montclair gave of his time, explaining the sanctuary movement, and he led me to Charlene Walker of Faith in New Jersey. My fellow organizers from the Montclair Writers Group created a reading of immigrant literature, called “Borders of the Heart,” to raise money for families stranded at the border.

As I write these acknowledgments, I am ending one journey to begin a new one: I decided to leave my position as a professor at William Paterson University to write full-time. It is a bittersweet moment: my students have always helped me “keep it real,” and my colleagues have provided a kind and supportive environment.