5.5 Complex and varied relationships with the term ‘stateless’ “I don’t see myself as stateless because I know where I belong. I know where I am from—but I’m not accepted there. Back there, everybody says, ‘You’re not from here. You’re an illegal immigrant from another country. Your ancestors are from elsewhere—go back there.’ But I know where I am from.” — Asma Different stateless people we interviewed for this research spoke about having varying, and at times, contrasting relationships with the term ‘stateless.’ This included differing views and experiences within the same broad cohort of stateless communities. For example, one Palestinian person interviewed pushed back against being labelled as stateless. “I’ve heard of this term ‘stateless’ before but not until I came to Australia. When I came here I found out that because I’m Palestinian, I’m considered ‘stateless’ in this country….I didn’t know that because, as far as I’d ever known, I was like—“Well, there’s a state called Palestine, it’s a country, how come I’m stateless?” I have a Palestinian passport, it’s a country. But …. apparently I’m stateless. I was a bit surprised about this and felt like “what the hell?” I don’t consider myself stateless, but others do. In Australia I’m stateless.” — Amira* Similar sentiment was echoed by one of the Rohingya participants we interviewed. “I feel very frustrated being called “stateless” because I’m like, “I am Rohingya from Burma.” And my parents, my grandparents, my great-grandparents, everyone’s always been there. That’s the only thing they know. They don’t know anything else. When people tell us we don’t belong there—that we actually come from Bangladesh, I wonder, ‘What do you mean?’ I know nothing of this other country. …That’s why I don’t understand it when people call me “stateless”. I’m not stateless. I was forced to become stateless because of the military.” — Asma This contrasted with the experience of another Palestinian stateless participant we spoke with, who described identifying with the term ‘stateless’ from an early age. “I am a Palestinian man born in Syria as a refugee. All my life people would tell me— “You are Palestinian. You don’t belong here. Go back to where you are from.” But I can’t go to Palestine because I don’t have anything there. …When I think back to leaving Syria, I think, it is one thing for me to feel in danger. But when I have children—when I am their father—I have to find safety. For them. For me, I can manage it. But when I see my kids crying, afraid, I must act. And because I am Palestinian, where can I go? Wherever I go they will catch me and say “You are Palestinian, go back to where you came from.” But I have no country—where can I go? People ask me—“Do you feel Syrian or Palestinian?” Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t know where I belong. All my life I have belonged nowhere.” — Kareem* Not hearing about the term ‘stateless’ or relating it to one’s own experience until later in life was a common experience reported by stateless people interviewed for this study. “After coming to Australia, the terms ‘refugee’ and ‘asylum seeker’ were thrown at us a lot. But I never really considered the term ‘stateless.’ It wasn’t until much later, when my mum and I started advocating for refugees, attending protests and community events, that I first heard about it.’ — Asma Another research participant, Fadi, spoke about not realising he lacked citizenship and documentation until he was twelve years old. “I came across the fact that I don’t have citizenship, and the impacts of it, when I was maybe 12 years old. At 12 years old I remember I used to play basketball with my village team, and I wasn’t the best but I was good, and I enjoyed the sport. And then what happened is we needed to participate in the statewide championship, but—to prevent cheating—kids playing need to show an ID or a birth certificate, because otherwise if someone is two metres long and saying, “Yeah, I’m 13,” that’s a bit dodgy. And I didn’t have a birth certificate. I didn’t have any passports, no ID, so I couldn’t prove my age, which means I wasn’t eligible to play. And that really broke my heart, because I was practising with this team all summer long, just for me to watch them play from the sidelines during the winter campaign. And that’s when I came across this plight of a problem that basically has been haunting me ever since.” — Fadi 66 Peter McMullin Centre on Statelessness | Understanding Statelessness in Australia