Further Thoughts on A Stray

The major theme of A Stray may seem at first a bit on-the-nose.  At an initial glance, it might feel like, “Yeah, both the Muslim refugee and the dog are ‘strays’ – we get it!”  And it is an obvious parallel, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a good or valid one.  This idea comes through really well throughout the film, always evident but never heavyhanded (a few spoilers.)

By the time circumstance (or God?) throws them together, Adan and the dog have both already experienced being unwanted or cast out from where they were.  We don’t know much about the dog’s story before she meets Adan, other than the fact that she’s without a home.  When Adan clips her with his car and has to bring her to the vet, he’s advised to bring her to a shelter – in other words, she has no tags to indicate an owner, meaning she’s probably not a recent runaway with loved ones searching for her.  Due to her easy attachment to Adan, we can probably also guess that, while she’s no doubt had it rough, she probably hasn’t suffered abuse or anything that would cause trauma and distrust.  Like Adan, she’s looking for a roof over her head and food in her belly.

Adan, meanwhile, has been passed over several times by this point.  He isn’t particularly welcome in Minneapolis by the city at large (the film doesn’t cover a ton of Islamaphobia or anti-Somali sentiment, but it’s there and does inform the story.)  He’s in a strange place where he and his fellow refugees have tried to carve out something resembling a familiar home for themselves, but he’s struggled to belong there as well.  He moved in with his friends after getting into trouble and being turned out of his mother’s apartment, and after getting into a fight with them, there’s no recourse left for him in his private circle.  Tentatively, he reaches out to the greater Somali community and starts to scrape together a new situation for himself.

Since this new situation involves a job and a place to sleep, Adan is at least somewhat better off than the dog when he first runs into her.  However, because he finds himself temporarily stuck with her, all that newfound security starts to erode.  He can’t work at a Somali restaurant if he tries to bring an unclean animal into the building, and he certainly can’t sleep in the mosque.  He and the dog are left to fend for themselves as an uneasy duo – well, Adan is uneasy.  The dog is perfectly happy to be with him, which unsettles Adan even more.  For her part, the dog’s situation becomes marginally safer as Adan’s becomes less so on account of her, because even though she’s still homeless, she has a human looking out for her and giving her what food he can.

Although a homeless dog and a homeless refugee obviously have very different factors contributing to their circumstances, it’s interesting to view their interactions as one marginalized “being” encountering another.  We have Adan’s instant reaction of disgust and fear, not wanting anything to do with the dog, regardless of the fact that he knows what it’s like to be without a home.  We then see him begrudgingly starting to help her despite himself, and no one around him recognizes the compassionate thing he’s doing.  Instead they turn on him, pushing him and the dog away with equal force.  No two ways about it – deciding to help the dog wreaks major havoc on Adan’s life.  And ultimately, we see him reaching out with more than just his actions.  He reaches out with his heart as well, which starts to make even the uncertainty of their situation feel a little bit okay.