This Is What America Looks Like summary

As Ilhan settled into life in the refugee camp in Kenya, she had to adjust to a new reality: death. Every week someone she knew died. But she learned that being surrounded by death also made people band together. When parents died, everyone in the community pitched in to look after their children. Even eight-year-old Ilhan looked after a baby who was only a few months old.

Ilhan did find moments of joy in camp life; she would sneak out of the camp through tears in the chain-link fence, run to a nearby village, and watch Bollywood movies for hours with the village children.

Once they arrived in Virginia, Ilhan’s family, all seven of them, moved into a two-bedroom apartment in Arlington. Ilhan was just 12 years old and spoke only two phrases in English: “Hello” and “Shut up.”

Still, she was excited to start school again for the first time in four years. But school life wasn’t so easy. She got into fights constantly, mostly with bullies at her school. Fighting didn’t feel like a choice – if people weren’t going to behave respectfully, Ilhan would demand their respect.

Once Ilhan and Ahmed got to know each other, it was clear they felt strongly about each other. Dating wasn’t an option in their community, however. If Ilhan and Ahmed wanted to stay together, they would have to get married.

Luckily, their families approved and the two were married, moving into a one-bedroom apartment near Ilhan’s father soon after. It seemed like an auspicious start. But rough times were on the horizon.

The 2008 financial crisis set off a chain reaction for Ilhan. First, she realized her two-year associate’s degree, which she’d sacrificed so much for, would be next to worthless in an economy where even elites were struggling. Then, when she started getting bad headaches, she realized she was dealing with years of stored-up trauma from the loss of her mother, the terror of war-torn Somalia, and all the death she’d seen in the refugee camp.

Her relationship with her family changed, too. Their devotion and attention began to feel more like an encumbrance than signs of love. She felt the urge to break with everything that was familiar. The next thing she knew, she and Ahmed were divorced, and she’d eloped with another man. Unsurprisingly, her impulsive second marriage soon ended in divorce.

When Ilhan’s family had just moved to the US, her grandfather first introduced her to American politics by bringing her to a local caucus. These events, he told her, were a cornerstone of American democracy. It was a chaotic event, but people’s passion for local politics and the democratic process was palpable. It instilled in Ilhan an appreciation for voting.

Years later, Ilhan’s first foray into politics was in support of a fellow Somali-American’s campaign for the Minnesota Senate. Ilhan was an effective organizer, encouraging community participation by explaining the issues and activating citizens to vote based on their own values. By 2013, she was an increasingly influential behind-the-scenes organizer in Minneapolis.

Ilhan’s community was asking her to represent them, but she wasn’t quite sure she was ready. She got the final push she needed from talking to a friend’s mother, a middle-aged white woman. As Ilhan told her life story, the woman started crying. She said she’d never been so inspired by any candidate.

Others were just as enthusiastic. When Ilhan announced her candidacy for the Minnesota House of Representatives, she raised an unprecedented $13,000 in one night.

After Ilhan was elected, the media requests started pouring in. Eventually, she was on the cover of TIME magazine. But she was still subject to anti-Muslim rhetoric and harassment.

One of her worst moments came when Trump, at a 2019 rally, accused Ilhan of supporting Al-Qaeda. “Send her back,” the crowd roared. That night, she was attending a dinner with Senator Bernie Sanders. He saved her a seat next to him, took her hand, and asked if she was OK.