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The Guardian - AU
The Guardian - AU
Comment
Sherine Al Shallah

As a Lebanese Australian, the country I live in feels hostile to my pain – and by extension, to me

The aftermath of an Israeli strike on the town of Baaloul in Lebanon’s Beqaa Valley on 20 October.
The aftermath of an Israeli strike on the town of Baaloul in Lebanon’s Beqaa Valley on 20 October. Photograph: Anadolu/Getty Images

I grew up and spent most of my life in Beirut before migrating to Australia just over a decade ago. I had to leave and I cannot go back. I have come to terms with the reality that I am a forced migrant.

Forced migrants and refugees flee to seek safety. I watch photographs and videos of as many as a million Lebanese people internally displaced since September, living on streets, in schools and even in a nightclub. It appears to me that safety is a moving scale, and evidently not everyone is owed safety. That my people, and I, cannot access the safety promised in the refugee convention. Or that the safety we are owed looks very different.

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