On August 30, 2021, the last American troops left Afghanistan, two weeks after the fall of Kabul to the Taliban. Since then, thousands of Afghans have sought refuge in the United States every year, where they hope to find a better life. Three years later, how is their reception in Uncle Sam’s country?
“It’s getting better. It’s getting better, but not enough,” an Afghan doctor, now a U.S. citizen, told us, who has been working to facilitate the integration of his colleagues since arriving in California in 2014. Dr.r Salim (fictitious name) wishes to speak on condition of anonymity, for fear of reprisals against his family, still in Afghanistan.
“We can do much, much more.”
This trained physician, whom we meet in a café in Sacramento, juggles his medical studies, two jobs and three volunteer initiatives in public health and immigration assistance. All his energy is mobilized by and for his community, especially those arriving in the country since the return of the Taliban to power.
Because the situation of Afghan refugees in California is unique. The poverty rate among this immigrant population is 31%, compared to 14% for the rest of the state’s population, according to a report commissioned by Afghan Care, an association working to facilitate the reception of refugees. It is also higher than the average among other immigrant communities in California. The report points out, among other things, the language barrier as the main obstacle to accessing employment.
According to the Dr Salim, community support also plays a role in this welcome. When he arrived, the father denounced the lack of local initiatives on the part of the long-established Afghans of California. “The resources were very limited. I said to myself, I don’t want to see the next generation [de réfugiés] to say to ourselves, in 20 years, that those who arrived 20 years ago did nothing.”
Dreams on hold
The ups and downs of D’s lifer Salim and his migration story are intimately linked to the history of Afghanistan. The 1973 coup took place two years after he was born. His childhood was marked by the Soviet invasion. “I never knew a normal life,” he sighs.
His dream of practicing medicine was put to the test. The Soviet-Afghan War (1979-1989) forced him into exile in Pakistan for a while before returning home. He then took on a series of odd jobs: handyman for a subcontractor of Doctors Without Borders, then radio operator for the same NGO.
In 1995, when the Taliban came to power, he put everything aside to finally realize his dream: to study at the Faculty of Medicine in Kabul, while working nights for the International Red Cross. “It was a difficult choice, between helping my family or medicine,” he says with a small smile. But his hopes took over. “It was my dream since high school.”
But after a few years, the American invasion turns his daily life upside down. To support his young family, he gives up medicine and gets a job in American diplomacy in Afghanistan.
His closeness to American authorities and his high social status after he left his post at the embassy in 2007 to pursue private investment led to a multitude of threats from the Taliban. After having to change his children’s schools for the umpteenth time, fearing for their safety, he applied for a Special Immigrant Visa in 2012.
The Dr Salim, his wife and children managed to leave Afghanistan for the United States two years later. His parents still live there. “It’s not an easy decision,” he says of his exile, his eyes stern. “Especially when you have dreams, […] love for his country.”
Yet, given the decades of chaos Afghanistan has faced, its story is unfortunately not unique.
Multiple realities
“The first waves of immigration following the Soviet invasion in the 1980s brought more educated people, middle-class families, to the United States,” says Farid Younos, a retired professor at California State University, East Bay. The Duty meets him at his home in the suburbs of San Francisco.
After this first wave, of which he was a part, a second followed during the first capture of Kabul by the Taliban. “These two waves were very different. [La seconde] “It was mainly women fleeing the Taliban,” he said. Afghans from various social classes who opposed the Islamist regime also took the road to exile.
But the American invasion stands out in the history of Afghan immigration to the United States. Between 2010 and 2022, this segment of the population quadrupled, going, according to official figures, from 54,000 to nearly 200,000. “Since 2021, 80,000 Afghans have arrived here,” says Dr.r Younos. They settled in Virginia, and here in northern California, mainly in Sacramento.”
In his eyes, these new arrivals come with a cultural baggage and values specific to their life in Afghanistan, which is not always easy to reconcile with their new life. “From an assimilation point of view [à la culture américaine]there are many problems. Some do not speak [anglais]others have difficulty adapting to their new culture, to new laws,” observes the former professor.
Being a role model
These difficulties motivated the Dr Salim to get involved in initiatives that aim to facilitate the integration of these newcomers. He is now working to target the “systemic barriers” that prevent people with foreign medical degrees from working in the United States.
“In Sacramento, we have over a hundred people who are recognized as doctors in Afghanistan who can’t practice,” he laments. “I’m interested in what’s being done elsewhere in the world so that we can then recommend programs to implement.”
Shortly after arriving in 2017, he also launched an Anglicization program in his adopted city. “Afghan women don’t drive, so they can’t get to school,” he says. So he began teaching them English on a volunteer basis two days a week. “I showed them how to make an appointment, contact their children’s school, or even fill out forms.”
For him, giving back to his community is a no-brainer, having experienced exile himself. “This country did me a favor by accepting me as a resident, now it’s my turn to give back. I want to be a role model for my children and my community.”
This report was financed with the support of the Transat International Journalism Fund-The Duty.