Conclusions
One of the students that studied with me in Europe was a refugee herself. Her family came from Bosnia–a region scourged by war in the 1990s where more than 200,000 people were killed and around two million were displaced. The Muslim community, in specific, were targeted in an ethnic-cleansing campaign. It was the worst genocide on European soil since the Holocaust. Her grandfather was thrown into a concentration camp and her uncle killed by a bomb. Living in a warzone, hearing the sound of snipers more times than they could count, my student’s mother fled her country with her two children, not knowing what the fate of the people she left behind would be. She was forced to rely on a smuggler to get them to Switzerland, where they were provided food and temporary housing, but not allowed to work. There, my student waited seven years until her family was granted permanent residency in the U.S. to start a new life.
Today, my student’s family is able to study, travel, work, and live without the fear of being persecuted for our identity or evicted from their home. They are able to live a safe life, full of promise and opportunity. My student has graduated from university and is now working at an organization that serves refugees. She is trying to make a difference in the world by helping other vulnerable populations.
My student and her family are good people. And so are the 79 million others that are deserving of our compassion and humanity now. They are not terrorists, hardened criminals, gang members, or very bad people. This is not an invasion, nor something to meet with military force. These are people like you or I, but they desperate to escape from war, violence, and destitution. We can help these people. We can do the right thing.