Author’s Note: In my final act as summer intern for Refugee Projects, I had the pleasure of interviewing Zahra Bahremandi, a Refugee Projects Board Consultant. I would like to specially thank Zahra for her candor, and above all, for her trust and friendship.
Zahra has lived in the United States for three years now, but is originally from Afghanistan, where she worked as a university instructor in Kabul. Her life in Afghanistan was active, and she taught up to thirteen hours a day, six days per week. She looks back on it as being periodically overwhelming, but she recalls that her desire to expand her own knowledge, and that of her students, was her motivation to continue. “Life was not easy as a single woman in the traditional society of Afghanistan,” Zahra said. To stay afloat, she relied on her social circle. By keeping in touch with her friends, she was able to call upon her network for help when she needed it. Therapy, she noted, was not an option.
In mid-August 2021, the US withdrew their troops from Afghanistan. Within days, the Taliban overran Kabul, completing their hostile takeover of Afghanistan. Rapidly, the Taliban began imposing their draconian restrictions on human rights, especially those of women and ethnic minorities. For a single woman like Zahra, what was once a “not easy” life, was now a life constantly under threat, and immersed in total economic and cultural collapse. According to Amnesty International, Afghanistan had one of the highest rates of internally displaced people in the world after the fall of Kabul, and millions of Afghan people fearing persecution fled the country, mainly to Pakistan and Iran. Hundreds of thousands of those who fled were deported back to Afghanistan. Because of the limited pathways to resettlement in the US, coming to the US was out of the question for most of the displaced people. Getting out of Afghanistan at the time was near impossible for anybody, and a single woman traveling alone attempting to even reach the airport meant passing through multiple life-threatening Taliban checkpoints. She spent three days waiting to get into the airport, facing more threats to her life each day. With the help of Dina Haynes, founder of Refugee Projects, and her team, Zahra was able to make her way through the masses of panicked people at the Kabul airport, and fly to Qatar, then Germany, and finally into the US. Zahra reflects, “The journey took just two weeks, but had serious effects on my mental health up until the present day.” Each day of Zahra’s evacuation required her to continue pushing forward through bureaucratic barriers and daily motions without her support system, all while pushing through intense feelings of hopelessness and anxiety.
It has been exactly three years since the Taliban took control of Zahra’s home. She now resides in the US, works a new job, and has a new social circle. But it isn’t all easy. “Still there are moments,” she says, “that I feel like I cannot fully understand others, or they are unable to understand me.” Soon after Zahra arrived in the US, she had a breakthrough. “I realized after a while that I cannot help myself single handed and to resolve my trauma, I need professional help.” So, Zahra took advantage of therapy, a resource that had never been readily available to her in Afghanistan. But, like so many of us, finding the right therapist for her took much trial and error (Author’s Note: Here is a helpful article on finding the right therapist for you). She said of her first therapist, “it felt like not helping at all. The cultural differences were not easy to explain to my therapist and she didn’t seem to have experience working a lot with immigrants from different cultural backgrounds…. I wish there were more immigrant specialist therapists in the country.” Zahra saw two more therapists before she found someone who suited her needs. Once she began receiving professional help, she found more strategies for regulating her emotions. “Whenever I feel under pressure or overwhelmed, I start an activity like walking or dancing. I am trying to focus on limiting the times I am letting myself be drowned by thoughts,” she said. She also found relief in establishing a regular sleep schedule and establishing regular connections with others. Her goals look different now than they did in Afghanistan. She dreams of returning to school, finding a better job, and making more friends. But, “after three years of living here,” she says, “I no longer feel like an alien.”
Zahra’s evacuation and relocation process was relatively short, lasting only weeks. For others, the process can take years. For many, it will never even begin. No matter the duration of the process, no matter if it is considered a “successful” relocation like Zahra’s was, the process is traumatic. Refugee law in itself requires proof of persecution. By legal logic, to be a refugee is to be traumatized.
But what stories like Zahra’s demonstrate is that to be a refugee is also to be brave. To persevere. To heal.
I leave my audience with Zahra’s message to other refugees working through trauma: “You are not alone. There are a lot of people in this country who are fighting in this battle silently. Go out, be active, talk about your experience in any language you feel like. Seek professional help and make sure you are finding the right one. Make new friends and keep in touch with the old ones. Take care of yourself, hug yourself and be proud.”
Isabella Lecona is a rising senior at Smith College studying psychology and public policy, with an overall focus in human rights.
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