My father moved to New York from a very rural part of Bangladesh in the early 1990s. He was in his early 20s and had just married my mother, whom he had grown up with as his neighbor. He moved here with little money, no wife, and no friends. But nonetheless he was able to find a community. Pictured is my father with a man who had grown up in the same district as him: Mohammed Hossain. My father lived with him and several other men in an apartment in Astoria, Queens. The two of them are rolling around in something they had never experienced back in their home country: snow. Coming from a tropical climate, this was one of their first experiences with the cold and snow. The two of them did not have family or friends coming to the country, but were able to share this moment together, showing how quickly people can come together in such times. 

The journey itself is not the only part of the immigrant experience. This photo represents one of the many stages that come with the difficult journey of completely changing your life in a country you have no experience with: finding a community, making it a home. All of the men were from the same part of Bangladesh and all of them had come to New York knowing no one, their families left back home. Over the course of a decade, each of those men, including the one in the photo would bring his wife to New York. One of the men even had a child back in Bangladesh who would land here in the late 90s. Over the course of another decade, each of those men would have children and start families. Those families would eventually become my family. 
 

– Saima Sheik

Relationship:  Child of im/migrant Child of im/migrant