As an immigrant who arrived in the United States in April 2022, I came with dreams of a new beginning and a fresh start, filled with hope and anticipation. After the devastating fall of Afghanistan on August 15, 2021, I envisioned America as a land of opportunity where I could rebuild my life and secure a brighter future for my family. I imagined a place where my hard work would be rewarded, where stability and prosperity were within reach. I dreamt of finding a good job, a comfortable home, and a chance to finally experience the freedom and security that had been elusive in my homeland. The promise of America was a beacon of hope, a vision of success and happiness that seemed just within my grasp. But as I soon discovered, the reality of life in the United States was far from the ideal I had imagined, revealing a far harsher and more challenging landscape than I had ever anticipated.
The financial burden was immediate and overwhelming. Despite the promises of support, the assistance I received was severely limited. The maximum direct aid of $1,025 per person, known as “Welcome Money,” was only enough to cover rent and security deposits, with just $150 to $200 allocated for both adults. There was no further rental assistance, and sometimes, community partners like MCC might provide a month of Zakat for rent after a rigorous assessment—if you met their requirements.
Refugees who come to the United States legally are eligible for public benefits. For a family of four, this means $1,366 each month, with $650 to $750 allocated for food. However, after the second month, the case is discontinued, and food benefits increase to $920 if one adult secures a job making at least $2,000 per month. Once the income reaches $4,200, all benefits are abruptly cut off. In a housing market where two-bedroom apartments cost between $2,300 and $3,000—and often exceed $2,800 to $3,000 when including utilities, laundry, home insurance, electricity, garbage, sewer, and water—this support falls alarmingly short. With additional car expenses of $150 for insurance or financing, families are left with almost nothing to cover their daily living costs.
My journey began with a mechanical shop job, a field entirely unfamiliar to me. The work was incredibly challenging, as I had no prior experience in mechanics and had to learn on the job. I struggled with complex repairs and unfamiliar tools, which made every day a test of patience and skill. Despite the difficulties, I took on this job to support my family, navigating a steep learning curve while grappling with the physical demands of the role. But I took it on to support my family and manage our living expenses. In addition, I worked as a DoorDash delivery driver. For just $6 per delivery, I frequently traveled 6 to 10 miles to pick up food and another 15 miles to deliver it. This role demanded relentless precision and perseverance. Navigating to the correct apartment, carefully placing the food at the door, and taking a photo of the delivery were small yet significant challenges. Each task is added to the daily grind, making the work both physically and mentally exhausting.
After some time, I realized that the mechanical job was not for me and started looking for a better opportunity. Within my second month in the United States, I managed to secure a job with IRC as a caseworker assistant. At the same time, I activated my Amazon Flex account. On weekends and late into the day, I took packages without knowing where they would be delivered. My first package was valued at $75. As I began delivering, I encountered remote areas in Oakland, which presented their own set of challenges. I spent five hours driving avenue by avenue late into the night, almost until 11 PM, to complete the delivery. The biggest challenge was the intense drive to the Amazon hub; arriving late meant missing packages, and missing this window even once could lead to account deactivation. One day, I got stuck in traffic and missed opportunities, which led to my account being suspended after three occurrences, with no chance for reactivation.
After a year of holding my driving license, I finally managed to activate my Lyft account, bringing a glimmer of hope as I began driving for Lyft and Uber. However, the job proved to be a grueling challenge. For just $5 per ride, I had to drive 7 to 12 minutes to pick up a rider and then another 10 to 15 minutes to drop them off. The job was physically demanding and mentally exhausting, requiring long hours and constant vigilance. I had to navigate traffic, deal with unpredictable passenger behavior, and maintain a high level of customer service. Passengers would occasionally report issues such as being too talkative, too quiet, or even complaints about cleanliness or driving speed. Accumulating more than five such reports could lead to permanent deactivation of my account, adding to the pressure. An attempt to add a new car led to my account being deactivated due to an incomplete inspection form. Despite my best efforts to resolve the issue, the account remains inactive. The job required grueling 12-hour shifts over weekends, just to earn between $250 and $300, while the wear and tear on my vehicle rapidly diminished its value. The constant stress and the financial strain made it a relentless and challenging endeavor.
Although I am fortunate to have an education and the ability to navigate these challenges, many refugees who do not speak English face an even harsher reality. They are often trapped in cycles of anxiety and depression, overwhelmed by the uncertainty of their new lives.
Access to healthcare poses a significant challenge for refugees, as the system is often complex and difficult to navigate. Scheduling necessary appointments becomes nearly impossible due to this complexity. Activating MyChart accounts, which are crucial for managing health services, can be a lengthy and frustrating process. Without access to MyChart, refugees may spend hours on the phone just trying to secure an appointment. Even when they manage to get one, urgent care visits can involve waits of up to four hours, adding to their stress and frustration. This prolonged wait time exacerbates their suffering and compounds the overall difficulty of managing their health in an unfamiliar system. The combination of bureaucratic hurdles and long wait times contributes to a sense of helplessness and intensifies the challenges faced by those seeking care.
Education for children presents an additional layer of difficulty for refugee families. Parents must navigate school districts that are often stretched to their limits, with enrollment processes that can be lengthy and cumbersome. Securing spots in schools can be a drawn-out battle, especially in areas with high demand. For families with multiple children, the challenges multiply, requiring careful coordination and significant effort. Without reliable transportation, getting children to school regularly becomes a daunting task. The lack of a vehicle can mean long commutes or even missing school altogether, compounding the stress and uncertainty faced by these families. Ensuring that children receive an education while juggling other pressing concerns often feels like an insurmountable challenge, adding to the overall burden of resettlement.
Despite the overwhelming stress and constant challenges, I am resolute in my commitment to building a better future for my children. The difficulties of life here are so profound that I often find tears welling up in my eyes, and my heart feels weighed down with sadness. Yet, the reality of Afghanistan’s worsening situation makes it clear that returning is not an option. We face immense struggles, but there is no hope for improvement if we go back. Therefore, I am determined to accept and adapt to our new life, striving to turn every obstacle into an opportunity. This journey is painful, but it fuels my resolve to provide a brighter, more secure future for my family, despite the hardships that continue to test our resilience.