I volunteered to help refugees. I understand my mom better because of it. | Opinion
My mom fled the Vietnam War. The fact that I was given the opportunity to help families resettle in the U.S., just as someone had helped my mom, is so American.
I had a list of interview questions in hand and Afghan women sitting around me, listening intently. All of them were wearing hijabs, and their ages varied. The room was loud from the other groups doing mock job interviews.
One woman leaned in, asking question after question. Seeking clarity. Driven to improve. So much was at stake for her, and the hope and anxiety in her eyes touched my heart. She had been in America for two weeks, and this practice job interview could mean the difference between employment and unemployment, between finding safety in a new country or continuing to live in a place of fear and uncertainty.
The mock interview was my first assignment while volunteering this summer for the Ethiopian Community Development Council (ECDC) in Arlington, Virginia. The organization was founded four decades ago to support Ethiopian immigrants around Washington, DC, and now it focuses on refugees from Afghanistan and Ukraine.
In the months leading up to this internship, I watched documentaries, listened to podcasts, did a school project, and read articles regarding the refugee crisis and the history of Afghanistan. Once I arrived, however, it became clear that this experience wasn’t about research or history.
It was about shared humanity.
Helping refugees is about more than providing shelter
Days later, the women had a fashion show to showcase the sewing skills they've been learning as part of job training. I watched the kids so the moms could just enjoy themselves, and as I played with dolls, took photos, chased children around and kept them company, I was struck by how these kids were just like kids everywhere. While the adults were figuring out their families' housing and finances, and getting acclimated to a new culture, the children were making friends, having fun, and feeling safe enough to imagine and to play.
One of my favorite things about ECDC is that the resettlement agency not only helps refugees in their need for security, it also helps build joy and emotional connection. Each of these is as important as the other. The job training and help with housing provide security, but it is the laughter of the children that gives the families a true sense of home and community.
Something Bob Elston, a staff member at ECDC, said stuck with me: “Helping individual families ‒ seeing their progress ‒ is the reason we come to work. Their success becomes our shared success.”
This idea lingered with me, but I truly felt it a week into my internship when I saw the same woman from the mock interviews at a different event. She walked up to me, thanked me for helping her and hugged me. I could feel her gratitude through the hug, and in that moment, I thought I might cry.
I'm the daughter of a refugee from the Vietnam War
I felt connected to her future by connecting to my own past because I am the daughter of a refugee. My mom fled the Vietnam War and made a new life for herself in America, starting from ground zero.
Honestly, I saw my mom in the faces of all the women I spoke with at ECDC, each one trying to create a new life in a new place after fleeing a place of chaos. The fact that I was given the opportunity to help families resettle in America, just as someone had helped my mom, was such a beautiful example of compassion coming full circle.
At one point during my internship, I laughed to myself because I, the daughter of a Vietnamese refugee, was having lunch with a Sudanese family while working for the Ethiopian Community Development Council, which helps Afghan refugees. It was funny and poignant, but what I remember the most about that moment was that I couldn’t stop thinking about how American it was.
It’s commonplace to point out that America is a melting pot; I’m talking about more than that. I’m talking about the American character, that foundational impulse that shows itself in the desire to help, to see beyond surfaces and to offer a hand to those who stand at the threshold.
I’ve always known the truth of that impulse because of my mom’s story, but after my time with the refugee resettlement agency, I know beyond certainty that by extending a hand, we increase our own hope.
Madeleine Nguyen Kayne is a rising high school senior at Crossroads School for Arts and Sciences in Santa Monica, California. She serves as an editor for Crossfire, competes on the tennis varsity team, and is the founder and president of her school's Red Cross chapter.