Fences. Barbed wire. Plexiglass riot shields. Refugee camps. Unanswered questions. Terror. Roiling seas in flimsy boats. Waiting. Fear. Walking. Huddled in wet, cold fields with no shelter and no certainty about what tomorrow brings. This and so much more is the experience of refugees fleeing the violence and civil war of Syria in Europe.
And now there is a new misery: Investigators into the Paris attacks found a Syrian passport near the bodies of dead bombers and assert that one was a Syrian who entered Greece as a refugee. This piece of information means that all those seeking refuge are now suspect and subject to fear, hatred and another layer of vulnerability. There is already so much misery, and now this. The terrible actions of a few punishing all. The horrific violence that slayed cafe-goers, partiers and fans of rock music is the same violence that these countless men, women and children are fleeing.
Can they still have hope? Can they still find a destination, a future free of violence and political turmoil? Can they keep going? Winter is coming, fast and bitter.
I have watched this crisis ebb and flow across my daily newspaper, mostly just shaking my head and feeling disconnected and helpless. Like many others, the picture of tiny Aylan Kurdi, his lifeless form washed up on a Greek island, affected me deeply. The three-year-old Syrian boy — who along with his mother, father and siblings — fled the militias and fighting in their hometown of Kobane only to drown as rough seas overtook the crowded boat. Only the father survived. I opened the newspaper to that now unforgettable picture and burst into tears. It is a funny expression that is often incorrect — burst into tears. But that is what happened. An outburst of sorrow, anguish and even responsibility. What have I done for these refugees? What have I done to help Aylan’s family? Nothing.
We talked all through breakfast — my husband, our eight-year-old daughter Rosena and three-year-old son Seaus, who wears Velcro shoes, little red shirts and blue pants. He is fatter and taller than little Aylan, and loves playing on the beach at the edge of waters, like the Aegean Sea, that took that little boy’s life. We talked with our kids about the war in Syria, which has created more than 4 million refugees. We talked about how our country has accepted fewer than 1,500 so far (.04 percent of those who have fled their homes) and said that it would allow another 70,000 over the next year (if they could pass through the world’s most rigorous vetting process). We saw that they were still listening, still feeling, and so we pointed out that the United States has provided nearly $8 billion in military aid to Syria since 2011.
“We have space for a family,” Rosena said, her eyes taking in our large dining room and mentally rearranging the rooms upstairs. “They could have my room and I can be in Seamus’s top bunk.” This is how they want to be sleeping anyway, even though neither would sleep well if we greenlighted this plan. I was bowled over by her generosity. It cut through all the fear, scapegoating, othering, racism, politics, bureaucratic inertia and red tape that defines Washington and other world powers.
Rosena is not alone. In fact, the mayors of an impressive number of cities have made a similar call to President Barack Obama. Last month, mayors from around the country sent a letter to the White House that read, in part: We “urge you to increase still further the number of Syrian refugees the United States will accept for resettlement. The surge of humanity fleeing war and famine is the largest refugee crisis since World War II. The United States is in a position to lead a global narrative of inclusion and support. Our cities have been transformed by the skills and the spirit of those who come to us from around the world. The drive and enterprise of immigrants and refugees have helped build our economies, enliven our arts and culture, and enrich our neighborhoods.”
The letter is signed by the mayors of major metropolises like Chicago, Los Angeles, New York, Boston and my very own hometown of Baltimore, as well as smaller cities like Allentown, Pennsylvania and Central Falls, Rhode Island. It is worth reading in full and working with your own mayor and city council to get more cities to add their names to the list. It made me cry so hard because the letter represents some of the best of our country.