Poem: Walking Both Sides of an Invisible Border
Poet: Alootook Ipellie
Format: Critical/Short Story

Walking Both Sides of an Invisible Border

It is never easy

Walking with an invisible border

Separating my left and right foot

I feel like an illegitimate child

Forsaken by my parents

At least I can claim innocence

Since I did not ask to come

Into this world

Walking on both sides of this

Invisible border

Each and every day

And for the rest of my life

Is like having been

Sentenced to a torture chamber

Without having committed a crime

Understanding the history of humanity

I am not the least surprised

This is happening to me

A non-entity

During this population explosion

In a minuscule world

I did not ask to be born an Inuk

Nor did I ask to be forced

To learn an alien culture

With an alien language

But I lucked out on fate

Which I am unable to do

I have resorted to fancy dancing

In order to survive each day

No wonder I have earned

The dubious reputation of being

The world’s premier choreographer

Of distinctive dance steps

That allow me to avoid

Potential personal paranoia

On both sides of this invisible border

Sometimes this border becomes so wide

That I am unable to take another step

My feet being too far apart

When my crotch begins to tear apart

I am forced to invent

A brand new dance step

The premier choreographer

Saving the day once more

Destiny acted itself out

Deciding for me where I would come from

And what I would become

So I am left to fend for myself

Walking in two different worlds

Trying my best to make sense

Of two opposing cultures

Which are unable to integrate

Lest they swallow one another whole

Each and every day

Is a fighting day

A war of raw nerves

And to show for my efforts

I have a fair share of wins and losses

When will all this end

This senseless battle

Between my left and right foot

When will the invisible border

Cease to be

The circumstances that we as humans endure are often completely out of our control, and at times we experience the repercussions of these unchangeable occurrences. The consequences are dealt when the nature of an individual does not fit the mold constructed by the homogenous structure of society. Uniformity and familiarity is the comfortable zone that us humans crave and thrive in thus when an individual is different the most often the response is to reject, ridicule, and rank. Furthermore, standing on the side of the bully or the one ridiculing is quite an easy task, one must simply tear down an individual’s personality, culture, or religion until they are stripped of their identity and their definition of who they are. The impact of ignorantly hurting another being due to their differences is evident throughout the world and has been evident throughout the history of humanity. These themes are extremely prevalent in Alootook Ipellie’s poem, “Walking Both Sides of an Invisible Border,” where he explores the idea when an individual experiences the torment of separation and abandonment, as a result, of unchangeable circumstances it can lead to feelings of hopelessness, which can act as a catalyst towards one’s motivation to confront their oppressors. However, when the trial continues, nonetheless, it can lead to a resolve of preventing the spreading of these feelings upon others.

Having been forgotten by others. Having been stepped on and run over by society. Having experienced all of this pain and those who inflicted it do not realize the long-lasting extremities of the cause and effect relationship that it has on the lives of others. In Ipellie’s poem, he is speaking directly to the audience regarding his experiences, and in order to provide an idea that we as readers can relate to, he expresses that the pain that he has undergone is similar to the innocence being ripped away from a child as he is stripped of the comfort of his family. Naturally, parents are expected to be comforting and caring, however, he explains that this frustration and pain that he has forgone is similar to that of having been “forsaken by [his] parents.” In addition, the diction choice of “non-entity” and “alien” describe the animosity that others in society carried towards him as a result of Ipellie’s Inuit heritage; as a result, he was forced to conform to the ways of life of a Westerner in order to relinquish himself from the cruelty that he was subjected to day in and day out. Thus this poem was a piece that was meant to convey to others that this was a time in his life where he succumbed to the imposition of the Western culture and was torn about his culture due to the duality between his pre-existing culture and the imposition. However, the lack of syntax at the end suggests that the torment that Ipellie has undergone does not come to a close rather it continues to take its course throughout his life. All in all, this poem follows an individual torn by the society he resides in and his personal desire to follow his culture, which is a struggle that many are all too familiar with. 

The images that I included within this piece are not simply there for aesthetic purposes; they are meant to enhance the meaning of Alootook Ipellie’s poem. I included images and quotes from the film, “The Joker,” the digital images are pictures of Arthur Flek later known as The Joker. In this movie’s interpretation of how The Joker became who he was, the story follows Arthur Flek who as a child was terribly abused by his biological parents, and his father beat him to a bloody pulp and then left him tied to a radiator; as a result, he developed a mental condition of laughing maniacally, randomly throughout day to day life. Naturally, this difference acts as a catalyst for many individuals in his life to take advantage of him or hurt him simply because he does not conform to the normalities that society has created. The constant trauma that he endures as a result pushes him over the edge where he turns into The Joker. Alootook Ipellie explores ideas regarding conforming to society and seeking anybody’s help or time to understand him, and this is a theme that is heavily included in this film as well. In short, the digital images that I have included throughout the entirety of my piece are included in order to strengthen the thematic choices made throughout Ipellie’s poem, “Walking Both Sides of an Invisible Border.”

Inspired by Ipellie’s words, and moved by the saddening expressions that he used I was influenced to write a short story primarily based off of the the following lines of his poem:

Mahjur By Kshef .K.

“They say that the pain is permanent,” Mamma tells me. “But, do not believe what you hear, my dearest Laia, the pain is temporary when you look in your own child’s eyes and see reflections of yourself, you will see,” she said as she caressed my cheek lovingly. It was then that I realized the strong hold that the illness had on my mother, it became more apparent by each passing day. Her hair lost its sheen, her once bright and smooth skin was now dull and wrinkly, and her eyes once so full of life were clouded making it look like she had cataracts. 

“Life has been cruel to you my dear, and it’s my fault for I have forsaken you, please forgive me,” she whimpered to me. I looked at her tears sliding down my own face as I said, “ Of course I forgive you.” She gently smiled after hearing my response, and said, “Even a grave sinner such as myself, possibly did one good thing in the past that can be the only reason why I am blessed with such a beautiful-souled daughter.” 

Her expression subtly changed as she looked out the open window next to her cot and stared at her favorite tree adjacent to the river bank. Our small house was on the outskirts of town, the river acting as a partition between ourselves and them. From the little window the view of what was on the other side of the invisible border was apparent. Then I heard my mother mutter under her breath, “I wonder if my soul will rise and touch his heart after I am gone.” That same night when she closed her eyes; she didn’t open them again. 

My mother was buried under her tree next to the invisible border. There were only two people at my mother’s funeral: myself, and my mother’s long term friend, Aunty Luna. She was actually my mother’s housewife during my birth. “You can come stay with me love, it might be hard to stay in this house by yourself, even if you are now eighteen year of age,” Aunty Luna said to me. “I am sorry Aunty Luna, but I will have to decline your offer; this was the place that my mother and I lived together all my life, and this will be the place that I stay. Don’t worry I’ll still be cleaning, cooking, and washing as you need.” She looked at me with eyes filled with sympathy and gave me a comforting hug before departing. Then I walked towards my house for the first time in my life, alone.

Later, that evening I walked over a small bridge that took me over the river which led towards the town. I had travelled down the hill like I had always done with my mother. Before entering the town, however, I made sure that my long polyester skirt covered up to ankles, my long sleeved cotton shirt hung loosely off of my body, and my hair pulled back into a smooth knot. As I got closer anxiety began to kick in, and I fiddled with my clothing ensuring maximum coverage. An outsider would think I was walking into a room full of predators when in actuality I was going to purchase produce. 

My mother’s conditioning rang in my ears, ‘Don’t look anyone in the eye and refrain from making unnecessary conversation with others; it will only come to hurt you in the end.” 

First, I proceeded to purchase some vegetables and fruits using some of my income that I make working for Aunty Luna. Then I was off to the street-vendor, Elyas, who always gave my mother and I a good deal on the meat that he had; I assume now it will be even cheaper. 

Elyas was my mothers friend from school, however, after my expectancy his family like the family of all of her friends were forced to cut ties with her, so they did. Along with the man who gave me 50% of my biological material. During one of my mother’s deluded days she looked into my eyes and said, “a complicated hazel just like his, my nose, and my hair; well at least I can see him through you.” I recall sitting there filled to the brim with anger, frustration, and loneliness. 

As I arrived to Elyas’s corner of the street the glances upon seeing an alien on Earth never settled with the community members. The women, the whispers, and the white lies. I stood in front of Elyas, his eyes filled with sadness and pain and I knew that he was aware. I moved on and told him, “I’ll take the cheapest cut.” His gaze never left me, but I was already conditioned to stare anywhere but the eyes. He responded with a quiet, “alright.” He bagged the meat as I was pulling out the few bills that I needed, and he said, “I’m sorry Laia, she was a great friend of mine and-” I cut him off as I rummaged through my pockets and said, “But not sorry enough to show up at the funeral,” he looked at me and said, “Don’t you think I would’ve if I could’ve.”

At that moment a ball came rolling and stopped by my ankle. A little boy came bounding to retrieve it. I picked it up and slightly crouched while I held it out to him. He smiled at me with a toothy grin and said, “ thank you!” Just before I was about to respond a woman came running over to him, “Ren! I told you not to run off!” I stood straight. Then the woman gasped as she looked at me and wrapped an arm around him, a protective gesture, against an alien. “Son, don’t talk to her, she is dirty! She is abandoned! She is a non-entity!” As the woman and her child scrambled away to a safe distance, I purchased the cheap meat, ignored Elyas, and I walked feeling the hot stares of everyone around me burn into my skin.

Since I didn’t have anything in particular to do at home I decided to take the long way back through various twists and turns around town in order to regain my composure after what had happened. 

Shortly while on this path a large crowd of people were congregating in the centre of the town, so I joined them from afar. They were rejoicing in the heroism of a man by the name of Raquil, he was being praised for protecting the town against the evil of bandits and thieves. In honor of his bravery the townspeople had created a statue in his name. No matter how much they praised him and wished for his good will and fortune; I knew what he really was, a man who betrayed his wife and father who abandoned his daughter. The sun began to set, so I remained no longer and walked on. 

As I was nearing the end of the town I heard a crunching of leaves behind me. It was getting late so there was no one around especially not where I was headed. I quickened my pace. My heart was pounding in my ears. Then I felt my hair get pulled from the back of my head. A large muscular man grabbed me by my hair and pushed me to the ground, the meat falling out of my hands. I tried to run, but the man stepped on my ankle and snapped it like a twig, to which he menacingly cackled like he was having the time of his life. He looked at me with a malicious grin and said, “you know I love girls with a bit of fight in them.” He was a few metres away from me and I could smell the alcoholic fumes from him. The stench made me want to vomit. I looked at him and said, “what do you want? Money? I have some with me hold on-” He burst into a bellowing laughter and said, “Money! Hah! You must be joking, there’s something else I’d rather take,” he replied in a predatorial fashion. There was no one around to hear my plea. No one to save me. I begged him, “please take anything else! Please not that! Please!” 

Then I heard a gunshot. I covered my ears with my hands. I looked at my killer and he was dead; by none other than, Raquil, standing over his body. 

I stood up with all of the strength I could muster. His back was facing me. Unable to control myself I said, “she is dead.” He didn’t look at me and said, “I know.” His indifference made my blood boil, “how could you? The woman died waiting for you,” I spat, “a weak sorry excuse of a man, if you think I accept you as my father because you saved me from an animal you’re dead wrong!” He turned towards me and said, “ she isn’t dead, she’s living through you; your nose and hair are proof of the matter. Now head home I don’t want anyone to see us talking, I’ll take care of the rest.” I grabbed the meat that had fallen on the ground, and continued on my way now with a limp.

About to cross the bridge over the river I saw a small basket gently pressing against the side of the shore closest to me. I walked over and peered into the basket, inside was a baby. Beautiful, asleep, and unaware of the cruelties of the world. A note was stuck to the inside of the basket that read, 

Her name is Mahjur. Please, take good care of her. 

I put down the meat on the side and picked up the baby from the basket. She opened her eyes and began to cry. I consoled her in my arms, and grabbed the meat in my other hand, and walked towards my house. At that moment mamma’s voice rang in my ears, “ the pain is temporary when you look in your own child’s eyes and see reflections of yourself”. As I entered I thought ‘no amount of consolement will heal the scar that this child will one day carry when she finds out that her name, Mahjur, is the Arabic word for abandoned.