As we stepped out of the secure area at Dulles Airport, I felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me. It wasn’t the journey itself that drained me, but the challenge of traveling with two little ones. My children, eager to explore, dashed toward a large family gathered just outside the exit. Their joyous reunion was palpable as a teenager ran into their arms, greeted by cheers and laughter — a scene familiar in airports worldwide.
Then my gaze landed on it: THE BAG. The young man behind us tightly gripped a thin white plastic bag emblazoned with the letters IOM, struggling to balance amid the joyous chaos of hugs and excitement. The IOM, or International Organization for Migration, provides essential support to refugees, including the crucial paperwork carried in these bags — visas, passports, and other important documents for their journey to a new life in the United States.
I recognized that bag all too well. Thirty years ago, as a 12-year-old refugee, I begged my parents to let me hold it during our trek to America. They reluctantly allowed me to, always keeping a watchful eye to ensure I didn’t misplace it. That bag was my lifeline, the same one my brother clutched when he finally reunited with us after two long years apart.
The memories of that journey remain vivid, even after all this time. I could feel the joy radiating from the teenager’s family, and as a mother, I understood the bittersweet tears that accompanied their happiness. Those tears spoke of relief and love — a longing fulfilled after a painful separation.
Throughout my work with Oxfam, I have encountered many such bags, each one evoking my own memories of nervous anticipation and hope. For those holding them, these bags symbolize the promise of a fresh start in a new country. Yet, as I stood there at Dulles that night, sadness overshadowed my nostalgia. I felt a knot in my throat as I thought about how the doors to refuge are increasingly closing in my adopted homeland, making reunions like that one harder to come by.
Refugees are some of the most vulnerable people in the world — seeking safety from unimaginable violence and loss. But instead of upholding the values that once defined this nation, recent policies threaten to shut out those in desperate need. This isn’t the America that welcomed me three decades ago; it’s a stark contrast to our nation’s history of providing sanctuary to those fleeing persecution.
The United States has a long tradition of welcoming refugees from various corners of the globe. I came from Communist Romania during the Cold War, while today, many Syrians seek refuge after suffering through years of violence and uncertainty. Regardless of where they originate, refugees strive to rebuild their lives here, contributing richly to our society.
As the legal battles over current policies unfold, it’s crucial that we raise our voices in support of those seeking safety. In challenging times, we must show our true character. The America I believe in would seek to expand its embrace rather than shrink it; it would choose compassion over fear. We cannot allow the light of the Statue of Liberty to dim, as it has for so long illuminated the path for those seeking a new beginning.
While I may have my assumptions about the young man’s background, I choose to keep those thoughts to myself. He, like many others, is on his way to becoming just as American as the rest of us. For more insights into the journey of parenthood and the various paths available today, check out this home insemination kit article. Additionally, if you’re curious about fertility health, fertility tests for men are essential. For more information on pregnancy and home insemination, the CDC offers excellent resources.
In summary, the story reflects a heartfelt connection to the experience of refugees and the bittersweet emotion that comes with reunions. It highlights the need for compassion and understanding in a world where many are seeking safety and a fresh start.