Marwa’s harrowing journey began as Taliban forces regained control of Afghanistan in August 2021.
Amidst this chaos, Marwa bravely took on her role at the Kabul airport to assist in the U.S. evacuation efforts, prioritizing her duties over her own family’s safety.
Following her supervisor’s instructions at the U.S. Embassy, she made the heartbreaking choice to leave her two older children behind, bringing only her breastfeeding infant son with her.
For four agonizing days, she fought to secure a safe passage for her daughter and son amidst surging crowds and the threats of gunfire, but they were denied entry at a military checkpoint.
When Marwa’s phone battery died, she was unable to reach her supervisor before evacuation, further complicating her desperate situation.
Now settled in California, Marwa has been navigating a labyrinth of federal immigration policies and barriers for nearly four years, striving for the reunion with her children, who eventually escaped to Pakistan.
In a devastating twist, earlier this year, just as her children were set to board a flight to Sacramento, a last-minute executive order from President Donald Trump canceled their Afghan family reunification flights.
“I’m exhausted. There were times I wanted to end it all, to give up entirely,” Marwa revealed.
She shared her feelings under a family nickname due to ongoing threats facing her family back in Afghanistan.
“That’s the horrible part, that you don’t have any other choice but to exist… my soul is dying. It’s only my body that sometimes is just pushing. And it’s just because of my kids.”
Marwa’s plight is not an isolated case; it reflects the devastating experiences of many Afghan evacuees grappling with the implications of shifting U.S. immigration policies.
California has attracted a significant number of Afghan refugees following the mass evacuations, with nearly 200,000 Afghans arriving in the U.S. under the Biden administration after the military withdrawal.
The state stands out for its substantial Afghan immigrant population, with more than 58,000 documented in recent census data.
Sacramento and Alameda counties harbor the highest concentrations of Afghan immigrants, followed by regions like Contra Costa, Los Angeles, and San Diego.
However, the recent ripple of policy changes from the Trump administration has severely impacted those still seeking safety in the U.S., effectively halting pathways for many Afghans wishing to reunite with loved ones or escape the Taliban’s retribution.
“Fear rules the day,” David Malikyar, a resettlement manager for the Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights, noted, emphasizing the disillusionment brewing among those who once believed in the American ideal.
The fragmented arriving conditions for many Afghans complicate their legal status; those who entered the U.S. during the chaotic evacuation were often granted temporary humanitarian parole while waiting for their asylum or visa applications to be processed.
Others sought refuge directly at the southern border following the transition to temporary protected status in 2022.
Those entering through established refugee programs or on special immigrant visas possess a more stable legal footing, yet many of these individuals still struggle to bring family members to safety.
Recent events raised alarm over aggressive deportation efforts, with incidents of detention reported as Afghan refugees navigate the complex U.S. immigration system.
Misinformation circulating through social media and the uncertainties surrounding work authorization have exacerbated the community’s stress and anxiety.
Advocates, including veterans who served alongside Afghan interpreters, are vocal in their plea for the U.S. government to honor its commitments to those who aided American efforts.
Nevertheless, the Trump administration’s executive orders have stalled refugee admissions and halted funding for essential resettlement services, further escalating the crisis.
In January, President Trump signed orders pausing all refugee admissions and cutting foreign aid that supports the resettlement agencies, making their future outreach operations untenable.
Even California’s efforts to mitigate these issues are hindered by budget constraints and the federal government’s withdrawal of support.
The California Department of Social Services operates a limited program to aid Afghan refugees, yet its capacity is dwindling due to the loss of federal funding.
Meanwhile, grassroots organizations like Opening Doors in Sacramento are working tirelessly to support Afghan immigrants—increasing the urgency of their advocacy as the American support system crumbles.
Yet, even with a commitment to helping other Afghan refugees, the nonprofit has been compelled to lay off staff due to funding pressures, further undermining their ability to assist those in dire need.
Marwa, who once worked with the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration, is all too aware of the risks posed to her family by Taliban forces.
She had feared for her life while following an order to evacuate, which ultimately resulted in her fleeing without her children.
In a futile effort to keep her family safe, she attempted to board a flight with her infant son but faced additional traumas when her child fell ill just prior to boarding; the situation spiraled into urgency and panic.
After working for hours at the airport managing evacuees, she was pushed onto a plane and separated from her remaining children—an action she would never forget.
Now, settled in Sacramento, her life is uprooted and fraught with uncertainty.
Despite being granted asylum, she cannot afford to be complacent, especially with her youngest son requiring medical care for a tumor.
The sense of insecurity permeates her everyday life, driven by the fact that she cannot return to Afghanistan.
Marwa’s identity as a collaborator with the United States puts her life at risk back home, and the emotional toll of separation from her children weighs heavily.
As she struggles with unstable communication and can’t always reach her children, the anguish of not knowing their well-being adds to her distress.
Watching her children grow from a distance and being unable to provide guidance during critical moments in their lives, such as her daughter’s first period, compounds her feelings of helplessness.
Through it all, Marwa clings to the hope of reuniting with her children, despite the formidable challenges posed by bureaucratic red tape.
“I’m coming from work, opening the apartment, holding my baby, and there is silence everywhere,” Marwa lamented, encapsulating the painful isolation and longing she endures.
As the Trump administration continues to traffic in policies that close the door on Afghan allies, the voices of families like Marwa’s cry out for recognition and a path forward.
The anguish and resilience of those caught up in this immigration crisis reflect a broader narrative of American failure to protect its own allies—one that resonates through communities across the nation.
image source from：calmatters
