A Refugee's story

The story of a Jewish refugee from the USSR

Miles away, people wonder whether you are a risk, a burden, or a valuable citizen. They wonder if you are helpful or worth it. The people on the other side of the world don’t see you. They don’t see how much you have done to get this far. They don’t see your parents standing in line for hours, stomping their feet in the cold. They don’t see your mom practicing her English, hoping and praying she has learned enough to save you. They don’t know how your dad was mocked and ridiculed because of his people. They don’t know how he struggled to find work because he looked Jewish. Because his name was Jewish. They don’t see how you were forced to leave your home, because you were no longer accepted there. They don’t see you picking up the rocks angry men threw in your store window. Crying, and wondering why. Why does who your ancestors were, determine who you are allowed to become?

     Your parents had to wait, and they did. For two years, they waited while they were processed. Trying to earn enough for freedom. They don’t see your family, and friends trying to spend as much time with you as they could before you disappeared into a strange new country.

     Those people didn’t know what that morning at the airport was like. Standing in line and clutching your heavy backpack, scarf pulled tight over your neck. You were probably a burden to the flight attendants. Just another family huddled under blankets in the spring snow at the tarmac in the refueling station in Ireland. You think about the room in America, when you finally arrived. You think about the refugee cards you filled out, cards you have to this day, and you wonder what would have happened if you turned back? Where would you have gone? You were people without a home. You had sold everything to pay the fines. You certainly didn’t have enough money left for tickets back to a nation that would never accept you. The people from your new home don’t see that you are just ordinary people, just like them, who have lost everything. You have left your lives behind to start over, hoping you will have a better future. You went to make a future where your kids could go to school. Where you could have a job. Where you could walk down the street without being ridiculed. Where you could have a life of liberty and security. Because people on the other side of the world don’t see that hope is all you have.