LACONIA — Albertine D’Almeida, a sophomore at Laconia High School, knows social inclusion takes time, especially in a community that is not particularly diverse, culturally or racially.
Most of her fellow students cemented friendships earlier in childhood and during their freshman year – before D’Almeida transferred from Concord High School, where she had a friend group that included others from Africa – and where she felt comfortable as teenager who’d come as a young refugee from Ghana.
Most people are welcoming, and many acquaintances are kind and sincere, she said. But the feeling of being new and different and rootless can linger, especially in environments where nearly everyone is white. Racism and bias can simmer beneath a veneer of acceptance. Callous remarks, even when not intentionally insulting, reveal disturbing preconceptions.
“I was asked if I was a Crip or a Blood (gangs with reputations for violence),” she said. “I got a lot of comments about that. Apparently I wear too much red.”
One girl said she looked mean – perhaps because D’Almeida doesn’t always smile.
A boy asked, “Can I get the N-word pass from you? I already got permission from one other kid.”
“It’s your mouth, you do what you want with it,” D’Almeida said she replied. She said it wasn’t the first time she’d fielded that question.
“I personally know history about the N-word,” she said. “It doesn’t affect me whatsoever.” Among peers of color, “We use it as a friend would. The N-word shows loyalty. It’s from slavery. It’s not fully a mean word for me, if it’s my buddy asking. If a white person uses it toward me, it’s a rude type of saying and I wouldn’t appreciate that.”
Bias and stereotypes of people from other races and cultures can hang in the air, influencing speech and ideas, even in subtle ways. They can be a barrier to social inclusion, especially in places where local populations aren’t used to outsiders, and some residents are uncomfortable and threatened by different languages and ways, according to experts on refugees and immigrants. Although most find welcoming neighbors, and kindly strangers who want to help them, the road to friendship, acceptance and belonging can be bumpy for new Americans, according to those who provide services for them.
“First of all, they are overwhelmed,” said Clement Kigugu, executive director of Overcomer Refugee Services in Concord, who came as a refugee from Rwanda at age 40, without speaking English. For refugees, “It’s a new country, a new system, and new things. Some are coming from refugee camps with no cars or electricity, and they’re now situated in the US, living in an apartment in a big building, with people coming and going, with rules and regulations” and they’re feeling afraid and confused. “They don’t know what they’re going to do, and how they’re going to start.”
One of the most important tools to promote acceptance and inclusion is education. “It’s important to hear their story,” said Kigugu, who gives presentations to churches, clubs and other groups. “People get one side of the story, whatever they see on media.”
“We need to educate ourselves and our children about the presence and dehumanizing impact of any prejudicial attitudes that are currently at work in our community,” said Carol Pierce of Laconia, a consultant on diversity and welcoming immigrants and refugees. Pierce is a founding member of the Laconia Human Relations Committee.
Refugees and other newcomers to America “bring culture and ideas,” said David Stamps, treasurer of the Laconia Multicultural Festival, and chair of the Human Relations Committee. “These people aren’t using us. They don’t want to take government money. They have the same dignity that you do,” said Stamps. “They just want to contribute. We give them a helping hand, just like neighbors.”
“The most important thing is to talk to them, and smile. Just say good morning, good afternoon, can I help?” Kigugu said. “This will help people feel at home. It’s a small thing, but it really counts.”
Since the early 1980s, over 7,500 refugees have been resettled in New Hampshire, mostly from the Democratic Republic of Congo, where they fled civil war, and from Bhutan and Myanmar, where they were the targets of ethnic cleansing, according to Overcomers Refugee Services.
Community vs. isolation
When Ayi D’Almeida, Albertine’s older brother, arrived from a refugee camp in Ghana in 2008 at age 16, he was the only family member who could speak a few words of English. He started as a sophomore at Concord High school, immersed in language study while helping his family gain a beginner’s ability to communicate.
In 2015 he graduated from UNH as an honor student with a bachelor’s degree in psychology. His research on the American food system and combating youth obesity won an award at an undergraduate research conference. Now 27, he works full-time for Hertz and hopes eventually to steer toward a career in public health administration or education.
At this point, he is sanguine about his refugee experience and frustrations in joining a society that professes to be open, embracing and inclusive, but where independence and isolation dominate – and inclusion can be superficial and temporary.
“It’s not just Laconia honestly, it’s an American culture, to be an individual and say, I want to be in my own bubble. They don’t go out of their way to really get to know you. They say hi and that’s about it. They greet you and walk right past you,” D’Ameida said. “People don’t celebrate community here. They’re not community oriented.”
Social isolation can become the default reality for new arrivals, and it can foment loneliness and disaffection. “There aren’t really enough resources when it comes to mental health, especially for youth,” D’Almeida said. “It would be ideal to create a space for refugees to express themselves, who they are, and their culture”– more than at annual, one-day multicultural festivals in Laconia and Concord.
D’Almeida envisions smaller monthly events that showcase the varied cultures of Asia or Africa. “The city could look into the best venue,” he said. “It could be celebrations planned by the city and the people, and having the people be part of the planning.”
Today, Concord’s refugee population is concentrated off Loudon Road, in communities of recent and relative newcomers with similar customs, languages and religion. "In terms of integration, we still have a ways to go,” said Jessica Livingston, director of that city’s multicultural festival.
Courage and gratefulness
Today Albertine D’Almeida is grateful for the kind and welcoming teachers at her Concord nursery school – where there were other children of color – and for her counselors at Young Living summer camp in New York’s Adirondack Mountains. She said it was an affirming experience that shored up her flagging interest in school and tapped her will to succeed. She said she’s thankful for her geometry instructor at Laconia High, who makes everyone in class feel welcome and for her biracial friend at LHS, who recently transferred from Manchester.
But more than anyone, the D’Almeidas are thankful for “Mama Carol” Corrigan, a member of the First Congregational Church of Hopkinton who effectively adopted the family when they arrived from Ghana in 2008. Corrigan is there more than just when the family has a problem, according to family members. “Constantly checking in with us and bringing us to events we didn’t know existed, that really helped us,” Ayi D’Almeida said.
Albertine’s middle name, Kikeli, means joy, happiness, sunshine in Tri, the language of Togo, where her father was born. She remembers the little birds who sat at her window at her family’s home near Ghana’s border with Togo. Her grandmother, who lives in Togo, gave her a blue blanket decorated with birds so she would be reminded of them, in happiness and in doubt.
In her heart, she knows why her parents left their country, and their siblings, parents, grandparents and cousins in Ghana and Togo: To bring three children here for an education and a brighter future, even when the daily challenges are daunting.
“My parents lost a lot for me and my brothers to have a better life,” she said. “It was worth all those sleepless nights, and I try to make them proud,” she said.
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The Sunshine Project is underwritten by grants from the Endowment for Health, New Hampshire’s largest health foundation, and the New Hampshire Charitable Foundation.
Roberta Baker can be reached by email at Roberta@laconiadailysun.com


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