My dad was six years old when he and my grandmother crossed the Atlantic, stuffed with hundreds of women and children into a crowded steerage hold. My grandfather had left Greece during the Balkan wars, immediately after marrying Grandma in 1913. After seven years, the little family were united and lived in South Dakota. Dad’s early years were tough – he was the favorite target for bullies since he didn’t speak English and dressed in “funny looking” clothes. Determined and hardworking, he overcame the challenges and eventually became a successful Superintendent of Schools. No one ever questioned if my sisters and I were American; we looked and dressed like the other kids. Sadly, it is very different for the American-born children of my dear extraordinary friend Gull Noori*. The family lives in constant fear that the kids will be scooped up by ICE and taken to a detention center. Today, they never leave home without copies of their passports in their school backpacks. Why? Gull was born in Afghanistan; her husband was born in India, and they are Muslim. Their daughter wears a scarf, and their sons have black hair, and their skin is a darker tone. Gull has already lost her family –and is determined not to lose her kids.
Gull was thirteen when the Taliban broke into the family compound in Kabul, Afghanistan, and murdered her parents and older siblings. Although severely injured herself, she and her four-year-old brother fled with neighbors to Pakistan. They became instant refugees (forced from their homeland without choice), registered with the UN.
Instant Refugee
It is incredibly difficult to be a refugee in a third world country- you don’t know the language, the culture is different, people resent you being there – it’s not safe. Girls are forbidden to go outside without an adult for fear of being raped or captured for sex trafficking. You breathe fear. You know you are not welcome. Gull and her brother lived with their former neighbors in an apartment for three years. One day, watching TV while ironing, she saw an announcement that refugees like she and her brother could enter the United States during the next twenty-four hours. Seventeen-year-old Gull furiously filed their paperwork. In a blink, they were on a plane flying to Washington DC, and Gull was 100% responsible for her seven-year-old brother; neither spoke English.
When you are a refugee, you do not get to choose where you live; the UN does. Gull heard the word Washington and assumed they would live in Washington DC. Surprise! The other Afghani refugees dispersed when the plane landed, and Gull and her brother were left standing alone, two frighted minors, no support, unable to understand or speak English, holding tickets to Washington state. Confused, overwhelmed, exhausted, unable to read the monitors.
Sesame Street to the rescue!
Farsi language reads right to left, and its alphabet symbols have no similarity to our letters. Luckily, Gull’s little brother had watched Sesame Street and recognized some numbers. Eventually, they found their connecting flight. At the end of their 30+ hour travel day, they were greeted by strangers selected by the Unaccompanied Refugee Minors program, who only spoke English. Their foster family did not know Gull and her brother’s beliefs, values, or the culture of their homeland. There was no common ground. Fear of losing their sense of self terrified Gull. She describes this period as the most difficult of her life.
Super-Charged by Determination
The foster family tried to be supportive, but neither group was “set up to win.” They ate different foods, had different religious practices, and spoke different languages. Gull was seventeen when she started high school, and her brother was a seven-year-old elementary school student and learned English quicker than her. Their foster mom started giving him parental advice contrary to Afghani family values and cultural norms. Gull felt lost and powerless. Her perception shifted when she realized her ability to be his “mother figure” was evaporating.
Determined not to lose connection with her little brother, Gull transitioned from a full-time high school student to a hybrid English Language Learner and community college student. By the time I met her, she was nineteen, had earned an Associate of Arts degree, and was earning a B.A. in Social Work with a minor in Urdu. Before long, she had a Master of Social Work and was fluent in five languages.
Moving out of foster care and living independently seemed the only way to re-ground her brother in their cultural heritage. But after Gull found a job and rented an apartment, she couldn’t qualify as a foster parent. She wasn’t twenty-one. Broken-hearted, she once again experienced a sense of loss and confusion. Soon, she was taking multiple buses between work and school, trying to stay connected to the only family she had left. Lonely and depressed, the physical distance between them made it impossible to protect and guide him.
One day, shivering in the rain and struggling to read the bus numbers, a woman approached Gull and asked, “Do you want to come under my umbrella?” Although Gull replied “no,” the woman informed her that she worked at Gull’s college and shared her contact information. This simple connection became a vital lifeline for Gull, providing access to college resources and linking her with a mentor, Marsha. With Marsha’s assistance over the next year and a half, Gull obtained her foster care license and legally became her brother’s foster mother. Now, she had to learn how to navigate the adult working world while raising a young child. She remained determined to be self-sufficient and not rely on government benefits to support her brother.
Gull feels a sense of accomplishment and pride when she thinks about the obstacles she and her brother overcame. Despite the chaos and confusion, she maintained a high GPA and received scholarships for three years to pay for her university expenses. She feels like the luckiest person in the world. She was slowly gaining independence and learning to adjust to life in the United States. Now fluent in five languages, she was positioned to help others avoid the confusion and stress she experienced.
Not Welcome Here
After twenty-five years of helping others, Gull still faces abuse and discrimination. Several months ago, a woman sitting near her on the bus fixated on Gull’s headscarf raised her voice and started shrieking, “You are destroying my life! My tax dollars are being wasted on you – my Section 8 benefits have been cut off, and my food stamps have disappeared because of you. Get out! Go back to your own country! You don’t belong here!”
After enduring ten minutes of the woman’s vile and spite, Gull responded loudly, “I’m an American citizen. I own my home and pay taxes. I’m a senior social worker, and for the past twenty-five years, I have been helping people like you qualify for food stamps and Section 8 entitlements. If you need help, call me.”
The bus driver stopped the bus, opened the door, and told the lady she had a choice – be quiet or get off. The passengers on the ‘stuffed to the brim’ bus clapped, the lady shut up, and the bus moved on.
I asked Gull, “What can we do to help refugees feel welcome?”
She smiled and replied, “Help them access culturally appropriate food and connect them with places of worship familiar and relevant to their practices. Praise them for their strengths, values, and resilience. Help them communicate effectively by providing interpreters whenever possible. Remember, navigating everything (housing, education, resources, job training, childcare, and access to medical care) is overwhelming.
Imagine arriving in America after experiencing incredible hardship (remember - forced migration is not migration by choice), thinking that you and your family can finally start rebuilding your life. Instead, you are adrift in a hostile political environment, living in fear of deportation and targeted violence. You still do not feel safe.
Please open your heart and welcome these people who are desperately seeking a safe place to live in peace!
*Gull Noori is a fictitious name. The Taliban is very active in America and remains a constant threat to Afghani refugees.