our stories

© Kevin Langson “While it’s hard to stay in place, change is even harder,” Remar states matter-of-factly when asked about his journey to the U.S. It’s a relatable sentiment; and while the global number of refugees and other immigrants is staggering, it represents a small percentage of people who are still internally displaced or confronting persecution. Leaving and starting over in a new country are their own tumultuous events. For Remar, a young gay man from Jamaica, life had been trying for some time; yet he knew the lay of the (homophobic) land. “I had mastered the art of being invisible because that’s what you need to survive. In Jamaica, what we see is sexuality: are you gay or straight?

My name is Zhanna. I’m from the Volyn region of Ukraine.  I came to the United States under the Uniting for Ukraine program and I have been living in Hartford, Connecticut for a year. Even though I’m far from home, I like my life here. On Facebook, I came across Svetlana, IRIS’ Ukrainian Program Outreach Specialist. She helped me move and settle into an apartment, complete paperwork, and search for a job. It’s hard to be new in this country, especially when you don’t know the language. Fortunately, I found sympathetic people at IRIS. I’m creative and I’ve always liked doing something with my hands. This is how the idea of making Ukrainian dolls, called Motankas, was born.  Ukrainian towels

© Rachel Peet For 18-year-old Reem, a recent high school graduate, the daily ritual of pinning up her hijab, clasping her Iraq-shaped necklace, and draping her black and white keffiyeh over her shoulders has brought her closer to a sense of freedom than ever before. Having been a refugee from Iraq and Syria, Reem understands that freedom can feel very distant for the “caged birds” in our migrant community. Her familiarity with the apprehensive voices experienced by many refugees and people of color has inspired her to study Human Rights at the University of Connecticut this fall. Reem’s journey of advocating for human rights began with her connection to IRIS. She was only four years old when she, her younger

© Rachel Peet As a first generation Haitian American, Imani Jean-Gilles embodies advocacy, decolonization, and an appreciation for the diverse journeys of IRIS clients. She joined IRIS in 2021 as Manager of Youth Services & Education Advocacy, and eventually, IRIS’ Education Program Coordinator. She’s managed various education programs for immigrant youth, including in-school tutoring and the Summer Learning Program, one of IRIS’ largest programs that averages over 100 students per day. While she represents Ayiti (Haiti) with pride for her ancestors, not just during this Haitian Heritage Month, she also encourages the expression of many other long repressed voices from our global community, particularly those who have been forced to flee their homelands. “Not only the people of Ayiti (Haiti)

© Nusaibah Shatta | May 23, 2024 My name is Nusaibah, and today I stand before you not just as a Sudanese mother, but as a woman whose heart is heavy with the burden of our nation’s trials and tribulations. When I was asked to participate in this event, I didn’t fully grasp its significance. But at the mere mention of Sudanese women’s resilience, something stirred within me—a flame of hope amidst the darkness. As Sudanese women, we are nurtured with an indomitable spirit, instilled with pride for our heritage, and inspired by the legacy of our ancestors—the mighty “Kandakas” who ruled with strength and grace. Their resilience echoes through the ages, reminding us that in the face of adversity,

© Rachel Peet When the Second Congo War broke out in the late 1990’s, Anthony was forced to flee his home city of Bukavu. After more than three years of running from the Congo, through Zambia to the camps of Malawi and Mozambique, Anthony settled in South Africa, but felt a sadness, thinking his parents had passed away in the war. “Trying to survive life was much better, having my own apartment and living a normal life. To be honest though, there was still great emptiness in not knowing where my family was,” Anthony said. A miracle arose in a single picture that a Congolese friend carried with him. As Anthony glanced over his friend’s shoulder, he recognized a familiar

From completing medical school in 2020 to arriving in the United States in 2022, it has been a challenging journey for Dr. Shafiullah Faizee and his wife, Dr. Parwana Faizee, both professional physicians in their home country of Afghanistan. “It is not a good feeling to have to start over after becoming highly educated and beginning a medical career in your home country. It is just awful. However, the situation in Afghanistan was becoming so uncertain that we were concerned about our lives and the safety and future of our young children,” Shafiullah says. While in Afghanistan, Shafiullah and Parwana served war-torn communities in Afghanistan, especially in the rural regions of the country where medical care was very much needed.

© Rachel Peet   “When I was in 9th grade, there was a bomb attack in front of my school. I remember at that time, I so badly wanted to help the victims. The bomb was inside a car, and there was a woman inside that car, who couldn’t be saved. I wish I had the capability or experience to help her.” Since the days of bomb attacks near her school in Afghanistan, Aqsa* has harbored a deep-seated desire to support others, especially those in medical distress, a passion that has endured throughout her journey from being an IRIS client to her current role as a Data Reporting Specialist and soon-to-be nurse Aqsa arrived in the U.S. from Afghanistan in

By John Curtis On an evening in mid-October, Chris George was addressing about 35 students at the Yale School of Public Health. His talk, part of a seminar series at the school, melded his life story—years spent in the Middle East and in the United States with American Friends Service Committee, Save the Children, Human Rights Watch, and other NGOS—with his 18-year tenure as director of Integrated Refugee and Immigrant Services in New Haven. He drew the students into his presentation with role-playing, handing out scripts and asking them to portray a Syrian refugee family, State Department officials, FBI agents, and landlords. And he discussed his own visits to refugee camps in Afghanistan, Gaza, Lebanon, Pakistan, Turkey, and the West

It is my honor to stand before you today at an event that holds a special place in my heart. IRIS’s Run for Refugees and All Immigrants has become a cherished tradition for my family since we arrived in the United States in 2016. For my family, this event goes beyond the miles we cover, it symbolizes new beginnings, resilience, and the unity that emerges from the diverse communities that gather here on this day.  Every year, my family takes more time on this day to reflect on our own journey. Similar to every story, our journey was also unique, started in Syria and found home again in CT.  In May 2023, I had to deeply reflect on that journey

© Rachel Peet   Dainez’s arrival to the U.S. harmoniously coincided with Independence Day in 2021, to mark her liberation from a traumatic and abusive relationship in the Dominican Republic. Since then, Dainez has become an empowering voice for all those around her at IRIS. She was “running, literally running” from her youngest child’s abusive father and fled to the States with her three children, in hopes of simply being heard and to survive. As she settled into the foreign, fast-paced lifestyle of the Northeast, Dainez was referred to IRIS’ Services for Undocumented Neighbors (SUN) program. She was prepared for a long wait after submitting her application to the SUN program, yet, she received a response in just a few

How one family built a life in AmericaBy John Curtis | November 29, 2023 Mashair remembers the day she arrived in the United States. It was March 9th, 2018, and it was the first time she’d seen snow. “I love the snow,” she says. “Sometimes I play in the snow with my kids outside.” Mashair, her husband, Abu, and their four children reached his brother’s home in West Haven after a 20-hour journey from Khartoum, Sudan, that included a long layover in Istanbul. Along with dreams of a better life, Mashair carried with her the worries of all immigrants. “I have no language, I have no job, and I have a big family. What am I supposed to do?” Five

By Azhar Ahmed | June 16, 2023 Since the civil war started this April in Sudan, people are dying, losing their families. They don’t have enough water, food, and electricity. People are sick and injured, and they don’t have medical care. There is no security.  When my five-year-old son Kutti saw the war on the news, he said, “Is this our Sudan?” I had to tell him yes. And he started crying. We didn’t realize he would understand what was happening.  Now we don’t use the TV for news anymore.  We went to Sudan last summer. My husband Fouad and I got to see our moms and siblings for the first time since we had to leave. Our kids, Kutti