10/2/2024
This week’s Point was written by Suha Ballout, Associate Professor of Nursing and Tenure Track Faculty Representative on the FSU Executive Committee.
As someone born and raised in Lebanon, a country that has endured decades of conflict, I now call the United States home as an associate professor of nursing at UMass Boston. My journey to this point has been shaped by professional and personal growth and the dual realities of living between two worlds. The events unfolding in the Middle East are familiar to me. They are personal, directly impacting my family, friends, and homeland. The geopolitical dynamics of the region, particularly those tied to Lebanon, are deeply felt and affect my very ability to live a “normal” daily life.
In Lebanon, instability has become a way of life. Ongoing political and economic crises, compounded by the influence of external powers and armed groups like Hezbollah, have rendered basic necessities like electricity, clean water, and access to healthcare unreliable. For many of my colleagues and friends still in Lebanon, “normal” is no longer attainable. As they grapple with these challenges, I, too, feel the psychological and emotional weight of these crises, even from thousands of miles away. I worked for years as a nurse in Lebanon and saw firsthand how the healthcare system struggled under the burden of war, corruption, and economic collapse. Now, that fragile system is crumbling even further, and the mass exodus of medical professionals has left a gaping hole in Lebanon’s ability to provide even essential healthcare services.
While I have found stability here in Boston, my heart remains tethered to Lebanon. Staying connected with my homeland is essential, but it comes with a profound sense of helplessness. When I check in with family or hear from friends still working in Lebanon’s hospitals, I am reminded of how fortunate I am to live in a relatively stable environment with access to healthcare and security. But that fortune is accompanied by profound guilt. I’m here, and I’m safe, but I watch from afar as Lebanon teeters on the brink of collapse, the place that shaped who I am today. For many immigrants like me, this dual reality creates a constant sense of stress and emotional fatigue. We are physically in one place, but our minds and hearts are often elsewhere, caught between the desire to help and the limitations that come with distance.
For those of us who are part of the UMass Boston community, this internal tension can be challenging to explain to those who haven’t lived it. Feeling disconnected emotionally and geographically from a place that is suffering so profoundly weighs heavily on our well-being. But in times of such uncertainty, the support of colleagues, students, and leadership at UMass Boston can make all the difference. For immigrants from war and struggle-torn countries like me, from crisis-ridden regions, what we need most is empathy, understanding, and space to navigate our dual realities. It is easy for people to ask, “Why do you care so much? You’re here now,” but they don’t realize that being “here” physically doesn’t erase the deep connection we feel to “there.” For faculty, staff, and students from conflict zones, the global crises we discuss in classrooms and research are not abstract; they are our lived realities. Colleagues and mentors can offer support by fostering conversations about these complexities, creating space to share our stories, and recognizing the unique emotional burdens we carry. Support can also come in the form of flexibility. Understanding that our productivity may fluctuate as we grapple with events back home is critical. Offering space for emotional processing and simply being a listening ear can make all the difference in helping us manage the psychological strain of watching our homes suffer. At the same time, we continue to build our lives here. UMass Boston can be proactive by providing tailored mental health resources that address the unique stressors immigrant faculty, staff, and students face. Mental health services that are culturally sensitive and specific to the immigrant experience would help us navigate the psychological challenges of living between two worlds.
As a Lebanese nurse turned faculty member, I see it as part of my responsibility to advocate for Lebanon and use my platform in the U.S. to raise awareness about my homeland's struggles, particularly in healthcare. Lebanon’s brain drain, especially in the medical field, has been devastating. As health professionals leave in droves, the country’s healthcare infrastructure becomes increasingly fragile, and the human cost of this exodus is staggering. Through dialogue and collaboration with colleagues here at UMass Boston, I hope we can find ways to support healthcare workers in Lebanon through knowledge exchange, advocacy, or finding ways to send resources. Universities like ours, with their vast network of intellectual and human resources, can make a difference abroad, even from a distance. Ultimately, we need a better understanding of the nuances of living between two worlds as a community. We must recognize that while we may no longer live in conflict zones, those zones live within us. For those of us with deep ties to regions like Lebanon, these ongoing crises impact every facet of our lives, from our mental health to our sense of identity and purpose. As colleagues, friends, and mentors at UMass Boston, the best way to support us is to understand that this connection never disappears and to help us navigate the complex emotional terrain it brings.
At the core of it all, what we need most is the ability to continue advocating for our homelands while also finding peace in the lives we have built here in the U.S. In doing so, we can remain tethered to our past while still moving forward, striving to create a better future for the people we love and the nations we still call home. UMass Boston can be a community where these dual realities are understood and supported, creating a space where all of us can thrive together regardless of where we come from.