Obstacles of exile for Afghans in the United States

Photo: Julien Forest Le Devoir Aerial view of the Fremont girl, in the San Francisco Bay

Sarah Boumedda and Julien Forest in Sacramento and Bay Point

Published at 12:00 am

• United States

On August 30, 2021, the last American troops left Afghanistan, two weeks after the fall of Kabul to the Taliban. Since then, thousands of Afghans have sought refuge in the United States every year, where they hope to find a better life. Three years later, how is their reception in Uncle Sam's country?

“It's getting better. It's getting better, but not enough,” says an Afghan doctor who is now a U.S. citizen and has been working to help his colleagues integrate since arriving in California in 2014. Dr. Salim (not his real name) wishes to speak on condition of anonymity for fear of reprisals against his family, who are still in Afghanistan.

“There's a lot, a lot more that can be done.”

This doctor by training, whom we meet in a café in Sacramento, juggles his medical studies, two jobs and three volunteer initiatives in public health and immigration assistance. All his energy is mobilized by and for his community, in particular those arriving in the country since the return of the Taliban to power.

Because the situation of Afghan refugees in California is particular. The poverty rate within this immigrant population is 31%, compared to 14% for the rest of the state's population, according to a report commissioned by Afghan Care, an association working to facilitate the reception of refugees. It is also higher than the average within other immigrant communities in California. The report points out, among other things, the language barrier as the main obstacle to accessing employment.

Community support also plays a role in welcoming people, says Dr. Salim. When he arrived, the father decried the lack of local initiatives from the long-established Afghans in California. “Resources were very limited. I thought, I don’t want to see the next generation [of refugees] 20 years from now thinking that those who came 20 years ago didn’t do anything.” »

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Dreams in suspense

The ups and downs of Dr. Salim’s life and his migration story are closely linked to the history of Afghanistan. The 1973 coup d’état took place two years after he was born. His childhood was marked by the Soviet invasion. “I never knew a normal life,” he sighs.

His dream of practicing medicine was put to the test. The Soviet-Afghan War (1979-1989) forced him into exile in Pakistan for a time before returning home. He then took on a series of odd jobs: handyman for a subcontractor of Doctors Without Borders, then radio operator for the same NGO.

In 1995, when the Taliban came to power, he put everything aside to finally realize his dream: to study at the Faculty of Medicine in Kabul, while working nights for the International Red Cross. “It was a difficult choice, between helping my family or medicine,” he says with a small smile. His hopes, however, took over. “It had been my dream since high school.”

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But after a few years, the American invasion turned his daily life upside down. To support his young family, he gave up medicine and got a job in American diplomacy in Afghanistan.

His proximity to the American authorities and his high social status after he left his post at the embassy in 2007 to launch himself into private investment caused him a multitude of threats from the Taliban. After having to change his children's school for the umpteenth time, fearing for their safety, he applied for a Special Immigrant Visa in 2012.

Dr. Salim, his wife, and children managed to leave Afghanistan for the United States two years later. His parents still remain there. “It’s not an easy decision,” he says of his exile, his eyes stern. “Especially when you have dreams, […] love for your country.” »

However, given the decades of chaos that Afghanistan has faced, its story is unfortunately not unique.

Multiple realities

“The first waves of immigration following the Soviet invasion in the 1980s brought more educated people, middle-class families, to the United States,” explains Farid Younos, a retired professor at California State University, East Bay. Le Devoir meets him at his home in the suburbs of San Francisco.

Photo: Julien Forest Le Devoir Farid Younos is a retired professor at California State University, East Bay.

After this first wave, of which he was a part, a second followed when the Taliban first took Kabul. “These two waves were very different. [The second] was mainly made up of women fleeing the Taliban,” he says. Afghans from various social classes who opposed the Islamist regime also took the road to exile.

But the American invasion stands out in the history of Afghan immigration to the United States. Between 2010 and 2022, this segment of the population quadrupled, going from 54,000 to nearly 200,000, according to official figures. “Since 2021, 80,000 Afghans have arrived here,” says Dr. Younos. “They have settled in Virginia, and here in northern California, mainly in Sacramento.”

In his eyes, these new arrivals come with a cultural baggage and values ​​specific to their life in Afghanistan, which is not always easy to reconcile with their new life. “From an assimilation point of view [to American culture], there are a lot of problems. Some don’t speak [English], others have difficulty adapting to their new culture, to the new laws,” observes the former professor.

Being a role model

These challenges motivated Dr. Salim to get involved in initiatives that aim to facilitate the integration of these newcomers. He is now working to target the “systemic barriers” that prevent people with foreign medical degrees from working in the United States.

“In Sacramento, we have over a hundred people who are licensed as doctors in Afghanistan who cannot practice,” he says. “I am interested in what is being done elsewhere in the world so that we can then recommend programs to implement.”

Shortly after arriving in 2017, he also launched an Anglicization program in his adopted city. “Afghan women don’t drive, so they can’t get to school,” he says. So he began teaching them English on a voluntary basis two days a week. “I showed them how to make an appointment, contact their children’s school, or even fill out forms.”

For him, giving back to his community is a given, having experienced exile himself. “This country did me a favor by accepting me as a resident, now it’s my turn to give back. I want to be a role model for my children and my community.” »

This report was financed with the support of the Transat International Journalism Fund-Le Devoir.