The Beginning

June 10, 2009

The day I officially became a “displaced person,” a “new arrival,” a “resettled refugee.” The labels vary, but they all mean the same thing—someone who had no choice but to flee home in search of safety.

I was 13 years old, stepping onto an airplane for the first time, landing on a new continent filled with both excitement and fear. Fear of not fitting in, of struggling to make friends, of never feeling at home again. Fear of losing my identity.

But over time, I learned that home is what we create—it’s the people, places, and moments that make us feel safe and seen.

In high school, I felt lost, unsure of what career path to take or what I was truly passionate about. It was like searching for a treasure I wasn’t even sure existed. But one thing I knew for certain—I loved helping others. That realization came during my time as a volunteer teacher’s assistant for an ESL class, helping newly arrived refugee students. Every morning, I looked forward to that class—not just because I was assisting them, but because I was learning from them. Their resilience, humor, and aspirations, despite everything they had endured, deeply inspired me.

When I started college, I still wasn’t sure what path to take. My dad asked me, “What do you love doing the most?”
Without hesitation, I said, “Helping others.”

“Who do you love helping?” he asked.

I thought back to the refugee students, how much joy and fulfillment it brought me to support them. That’s when I knew—this was my calling.

During my second year of college, I volunteered with the International Rescue Committee as an Employment Assistant, and from that moment on, I was certain. Regardless of the setting—whether in healthcare, schools, community centers, or resettlement agencies—my purpose was clear. The refugee community, especially women and girls, was who I wanted to serve.

This blog is more than just a personal space—it’s a platform to amplify refugee voices, to shed light on their journeys, struggles, and resilience. It was born during one of the most challenging times for me as a resettlement worker and for refugees worldwide. As policies shift and uncertainty grows, storytelling and creativity remain a refuge.

I hope this space becomes one of healing, expression, and connection. If you’ve ever felt displaced—physically, emotionally, or spiritually—know that you are not alone. Join me in reclaiming our stories, our voices, and our sense of home.