A market seller in Riyad Market, Djibouti City, Djibouti, August 2019.
Habiba, Community Navigator at Minnesota Council of Churches.
“My family and I were forced to flee our home in Angola due to the war when I was just two years old. We bounced around a lot of African refugee camps for eight years before getting the opportunity to resettle to America.I remember in a Zambian refugee camp we barely had enough to eat, living in mud huts that would wash away during rainstorms. We lived there for one year before traveling by foot to South Africa, hitching rides from strangers. After the South Africa xenophobia attacks in 2008, my family lost everything we had and placed in another camp. Fearing for our lives, we applied for resettlement with the UN and after five years, got approved to resettle in the US.My father was a single parent raising six kids on his own during this entire period, struggling to make ends meet and keeping his family safe. He’s the reason I am who I am today.
Living in America is a dream come true for me, but it hasn’t been easy. Being the land of opportunities, freedom and individual rights,we were able to rebuild our lives in the US from nothing.I wasn’t able to finish my education in Africa, so when I was pregnant I went back to school to become a midwife while my husband worked night shifts to support our family. Today, I get to live through my passion of helping others in my community working at Minnesota Council of Churches as a Community Navigator.
I want Americans to understand that being a refugee is not an option. A refugee is a person fleeing danger, violence or prosecution seeking a better life. While starting fresh in a new country isn’t easy, I celebrate my struggles –they have made me the person I am today.”
Fidel, Author and Poet.
“If anyone asks me who I am, I say I’m a Congolese-American. Today, I’m proud to say I’m an American citizen. I was forced to leave the Democratic Republic of Congo on my own in 1999 when I was about 13 years old. The rebels invaded my home city during the Second Congo War while I was at school and we were all immediately forced to run away and not return. I was with four other friends, crossing through several countries and ended up settling in a Zimbabwe refugee camp. When I arrived in Zimbabwe I lied about my age –saying I was 16 -so I would be put in a refugee camp with people who spoke my language rather than being adopted by a Zimbabwean family.
I was in and out of Zimbabwe for over seven years, traveling through Botswana, South Africa and Zambia for refuge. I found my way back to Zimbabwe but the government arrested me and wanted imprisoned or deported.The UN came to my defense, resettling me to the US after the government gave them an ultimatum of 48 hours.
My expectations and spirits were so high that things would be different for me in the US. But once I arrived, reality hit me hard that America is just like anywhere else in the world. A place where you must deal with hate, hardship and struggle. The first two years in the US were actually the hardest of my life. I was resettled to Boise, Idaho and dealt with a lot of discrimination –it was very traumatic. I didn’t know how to deal with it and had a nervous breakdown, ending up in a mental facility for one week. It took about one year of intensive counseling and a strong support system I thankfully found for me to finally find my way. Coming to the states was such a learning experience for me. All of these moments taught me that people are people no matter where you are –you must deal with the good and bad. I had no clue the hate and stereotypes I’d have to fight against here.
But that dark moment actually transformed me into the person I have become today –a writer and social justice activist. Writing became the outlet for me to express my problems and share my thoughts with others. It helped me to speak out against discrimination and injustices that so many people face on a daily basis.
To me, America means freedom. I can speak my mind without fear, stand up for myself, work andprovide for my family –I didn’t have those opportunities as a refugee in Africa. It took me five yearsafter my arrival to gain my US citizenship and I feel so embolden that I understand the US governmentsystem from the process. While we are seeing a rise with hate and discrimination in our society today,I’m not scared. The foundation and core of this country’s constitution allows us to stand up for andspeak out on our rights, which is what gives me hope for our future.”
A fruit market worker at Riyad Market in Djibouti City, Djibouti, August 2019.
A drag queen marches in Washington, D.C.'s Capitol Pride Parade, June 2019.
A meat market seller washes and closes up her stand for the day at Riyad Market in Djibouti City, Djibouti, August 2019.
Freeha, a mother and Syrian refugee living in Jordan.
“One of my sons and his family went through the US refugee resettlement process and was deemed eligible to be resettled into the US. He, his wife, 10 year old son and seven year old daughter went through the entire vetting process, which took up to four years of background checks, interviews and physical health examinations. They finally got approval to resettle to the US in the beginning of 2016.But when President Trump took office, he stopped them from being able to be resettled because of the Muslim Ban. The hardest part is that he can’t even apply to go somewhere else because his resettlement status says it’s still pending with the US. My son is now 37 years old and has been stuck in Jordan for four years now with no opportunities for him and his young family.Right now my family is scattered all over the world. My two other children went to France as refugees two years ago. I’ve been trying ever since to apply and be reunited with them again. But I continue to get denied.
“My family left Syria because of the escalating conflict. Fighting became more intense around our home in 2012, so I brought my adult kids and their families to Jordan in the hopes of safety. As soon as we arrived in Jordan, The United Nations gave each family 120JD to cover daily expenses and 75JD for heating kits –the standard amount for Syrian refugees. This is the only support we’ve received over the past seven years. There are more resources out there for support, however it’s very limited and becomes an unfair, competitive process to who gets the support and who doesn’t.
It’s very difficult to find and obtain work permits in Amman as a Syrian refugee and we must pay all of our expenses including rent, utilities, and food. On top of all these expenses, I also have medications I need to buy monthly. The UN does provides us with a food card for food assistance –15JD per person per month per household for food –but it still isn’t enough to feed a family. They don’t even let Syrians drive cars in Jordan. I was lucky to meet other Syrian women who were sewing as a means of income, so I started sewing with them. When that work stopped for me, I got connected to Jasmine Initiative, where I now do sewing and specialize in crochet products to sell for income.”
What does the word refugee mean to you? To Vietnamese refugee Don Nguyen, the word "refugee" means struggle, life, perseverance, love, human, self.
Here, he stands with his son in front of the Library of Congress on World Refugee Day in 2019.
Born into a larger Catholic family in the coastal town of Nha Trang, Vietnam, Don's father worked for the American Consulate. In April of 1975, his family was forced to evacuate their home due to the North Vietnamese Communist force advancing towards central Vietnam during the Vietnam War.
After living in three refugee camps, his family resettled in Madrid, Iowa.
Their new life there felt exciting, new, and different but also full of difficult challenges, facing language barriers, discrimination, and systemic racism.
Don attended Madrid High School and was the first non-white student to graduate in its hundred year history, advancing on to graduate with a Bachelor's degree from Iowa State University, later obtaining his JD in California.
Today, Don has been practicing law for over 20 years as an attorney in criminal defense, working with disadvantaged, marginalized immigrant communities.
Maydelli migrated to the US from Mexico over 30 years ago as a young child. Her parents made the difficult decision to leave their home in search of better opportunities for Maydelli's future.
The DREAM Act has allowed Maydelli to obtain a Bachelor's degree and pursue her dreams in becoming an entrepreneur that gives back to her community.
"As a Dreamer, it's been difficult to navigate the challenges and uncertainties of our country's political climate. To me, America represents the land of the free where everyone has an opportunity to thrive. Our country was created by hard working immigrants seeking equality."
Here, Maydelli stands in front of the White House in Lafayette Square on World Refugee Day in 2019. The Trump Administration aims to rescind the DACA program, which has protected over 700,000 Dreamers from deportation.
Claudia, Poet.
“For people who see migrants and refugees as a danger, I ask that they reevaluate the source of where their fear came from. Fear as an emotion is normal but I challenge people to analyze the way they respond to fears. Feeling threatened about a group of people is a behavior we learn; it’s passed on from misrepresentations seen in the media and misconceptions inherited from family or friends. I immigrated to the US at a really young age from El Salvadorand currently have Temporary Protected Status (TPS). Just being a woman would be enough to get me killed there. I have tremendous gratitude for the U.S. -a place that I lived my childhood and now adulthood life. Growing up in Virginia,this country represents nearly everything to me: family, friends, loved ones, my past, and my future.I don’t have any illusions about a perfect nation, but I have invested my heart and energy in contributing to the U.S.’s future. I’m an educator and poet, and I believe that to shape a nation’s future, its people must have training in love, literature, and politics.I call myself a “word warrior” because I’ve chosen language as a way to resist oppression and over the years, I’ve seen words move people to take action. Poetry is my response to social injustice.
Right now, the Presidential candidates need to be talking about the root causes of migration and get serious about immigration reform. The lives of immigrants are not a game. I feel like politics are interfering with my community’s sense of physical safety, and at times, policy is placing my community in actual danger. But at the same time, I take comfort in the power of community. On hard days, I take a look at immigration advocates, many of them immigrants themselves, and feel powerful and hopeful for our future."
Writer Abdi Iftin defines the word "refugee" as hope, resilience and persistence.
"Who else would walk hundreds of miles, or risk crossing borders with small children to find a safe home?," he says.
Author of the award winning book, "Call me American," Abdi fleed from his home in Somalia alone due to the incessant violence and Islamic extremism taking hold during the Somali Civil War in 2011.
Smuggling himself into Kenya, Abdi became a refugee, hiding silently in apartments from Kenyan police raids for five years. In 2014, Abdi came to the US through the annual Green Card lottery program.
Today, Abdi is a proud and legal resident of Maine, attending the University of Maine while working on a film and advocating for the rights of refugees everywhere.
Here, Abdi stands in front of the US Capitol on World Refugee Day in 2019.
