As I stepped out of the secured section of Dulles Airport to collect our luggage, I felt an overwhelming sense of exhaustion. The journey itself wasn’t particularly taxing, but managing two young children can be exhausting for any parent. My kids, eager to explore, darted towards a large family waiting by the exit. Suddenly, cheers erupted as a teenager rushed into their embrace, laughter and excitement filling the air—a familiar scene at any airport.
In that moment, I spotted a thin white plastic bag emblazoned with the letters IOM, held tightly by the young man behind us. It was a reminder of the International Organization for Migration, which assists refugees in resettling. That very bag once held my important documents during my own journey to the United States 30 years ago. As a hopeful 12-year-old, I yearned to carry it, and my parents reluctantly allowed me to do so, always watching closely to ensure I wouldn’t misplace it. It was my prized possession, the same type of bag my brother clutched when he finally reunited with our family after two long years apart.
The memories of my own journey remain vivid, even after all this time. I felt a connection with the joy of that family, but as a mother now, I also understood the tears of relief and happiness that flooded the young man’s mother as she embraced her son again.
Throughout my work with Oxfam, I have encountered many similar bags, each one a symbol of hope and the start of a new life. They remind me of the anxious excitement of those who hold them tightly, looking forward to the opportunities that await in their new homes. Yet, at that moment in Dulles, a wave of sadness washed over me. I couldn’t help but think about the current climate in my adopted country, where doors are beginning to close on refugees, making such joyful reunions increasingly rare.
Refugees, like the joyful family I witnessed, are among the world’s most vulnerable individuals—fleeing unimaginable violence and loss in search of safety. It’s disheartening to see policies that seem to contradict the very values America once stood for. The executive order from President Trump aims to limit refugee admissions, a stark contrast to the welcoming spirit that embraced me three decades ago.
For decades, the United States has been a sanctuary for refugees from all corners of the globe. I came from Communist Romania during the Cold War, and today, countless Syrians are seeking refuge after enduring horrific violence, often stuck in refugee camps for years. When they finally arrive in America, they work tirelessly to rebuild their lives and become integral parts of our society.
As legal battles over the administration’s executive order unfold, it is crucial that we raise our voices. In challenging times, we reveal our true character. The America I believe in would work to expand its efforts to support those in need, embracing compassion instead of fear, and living up to its ideals rather than succumbing to despair. The torch of the Statue of Liberty must continue to shine brightly, welcoming those desperately seeking a fresh start.
Though I might speculate about the young man’s origins, I choose not to make assumptions. He is on the path to becoming just as American as anyone else—just like I did.
In a world where many are searching for connection and understanding, it’s essential to remember the stories that bind us together. For further insights on home insemination, visit this resource. And for those considering starting a family, check out this comprehensive guide on at-home insemination kits, a useful tool in your journey. For more information on pregnancy and related topics, this link offers excellent resources.
In summary, the experiences of refugees and their journeys resonate deeply within us all, reminding us of our shared humanity. As we navigate these challenging times, it’s vital to advocate for compassion and understanding, ensuring that the doors of opportunity remain open for those in need.