My mother arrived in New York two weeks before she turned 22. It was 1988 and her first time on an airplane. Her uncle’s ex-wife and her two cousins greeted her at the airport; they drove her all the way across the country to where they lived in Washington State.
My mother, like many Moroccans, migrated to the United States on her own under a tourist visa. Like so many other immigrants, she was searching for a better life.