Less of a Land Of Opportunity

Last week, I visited Washington for a routine meeting, but what I experienced on my trip was more than mundane: It was eye-opening. Of course, there were the little things I noticed, such as the fact that there are still people in this country who smoke, that white men in suits seem to remain the dominant paradigm and that the Kennedy Center looks much better at night than during the day (but, to be fair, who or what doesn't?). The most enlightening part of my visit, however, came during a cab ride from Dulles International Airport to my hotel in the District.

En route from the airport, I struck up a conversation with my cabdriver. I learned that he had moved to the United States from an African nation 10 years ago and was struggling to decide whether to return to his home country. There he had worked in the computer field; here he delivers pizza, drives cabs and barely makes ends meet. He was worried about the high cost of gas but he and his wife were more concerned about the schools his young daughter would attend; he described them as "terrible." On the other hand, he said, in the United States, girls have more opportunity. As we chatted, I gathered from him that his conflicting obligations as son, brother, husband and father weighed heavily on his mind.

I asked him whether America had been good to him and whether he had found the opportunities he had come looking for. Without hesitating, he answered "no" -- but quickly added that it was a great country and a fun place to live.

As we pulled up to the hotel, I saw his face for the first time. In his unique brand of English, he asked me, "from my heart," whether he should go back to Africa. My mind went directly to his young daughter: Would she have a better life most likely growing up in poverty in America, in rough neighborhoods and attending segregated, low-quality schools? Or would she be better off in his country, where gender roles would significantly limit her but where her family would be middle-class?

As someone who believes so much in the American dream, I wanted to tell him to stay. But as a doctor who works in an urban, immigrant neighborhood and who for the past 10 years has repeatedly seen the utter lack of options for bright, first-generation children, I realized that maybe he should return. That was my "aha" moment. I had come to our awe-inspiring capital only to realize that I no longer believe in our promise to the world that a better life exists for you here if you are smart and hardworking. If you don't agree, just ask a D.C. cabdriver.

-- Lisa Chamberlain

Palo Alto, Calif.