“Do not dare not to dare.”
― C.S. Lewis, The Horse and His Boy
Dear friends,
Just yesterday, the Taliban shut down all internet, including mobile service, in Afghanistan. This is just one more in a series of heartbreaks I’m watching my Afghan friends, neighbors, and employees at Refuge navigate. Friends and family that they talk to on a daily or weekly basis are suddenly inaccessible.
The shutdown is ostensibly “to prevent immoral activities” in a country where basic rights for women and girls have been rolled back into nonexistence.
Last night, I had a conversation with my dear Afghan friend and housemate who has been in the US for just two months. She volunteered at Refuge all last week as we prepared for our race, and then she ran in it on Saturday with another American friend. She said, “Even before the last Taliban takeover, we did not gather in groups larger than 20. If we did, we knew there was danger of violence against us. What I saw at the race—so many people gathering just for joy—was unthinkable at home.”
Our thorough preparation for the “what ifs” of our big gathering last Saturday including immigrants and refugees in a time when their freedom could be challenged on a whim is nothing compared to what my friend experienced every day. She said, “When we went anywhere in groups, 100% there would be an explosion or gunfire. And so, we didn’t go out.”
It took a lot of quiet energy for me to think about this reality, the one she fled. I have been free my entire life. Free to be with people. Free to walk the streets with or without my head covered. Free to hold hands with my husband, Free to speak and write as I wish. Free to believe. Free to choose. Free to drive. Free to work. Free to go to school. Free to ride a bike. Free to go to school or the library. Free to sit at a big table with a lot of people at a restaurant.
It is almost impossible to imagine living in a country where none of the freedoms I enjoy exist, at least not for women. Where I must stay inside my home, not because I want to, but because nowhere outside my home is safe.
One comment I sometimes hear when I mention having refugee friends is, “Why do they mooch off of our wealth?” or “Why didn’t they stay in their home country and fight?” or “Why can’t they go back home?”
Why questions are important, but these are the wrong ones to ask. The answer to them is tragic and real, and I sometimes wonder if the askers really want honest answers.
Why not rather ask…
Why am I free?
And my favorite: Why not share the freedom I have with those who have lost theirs through no fault of their own?”
Our Run for Courageous Welcome was, at its core, just that. Free people sharing freedom. A celebration of something we don’t even realize we have. Collective joy.
Thanks to you, we were able to give away over $8000 in registrations. That’s a lot of runners, walkers, strollers, and a lot of bubbles, colors, confetti, swag bags, and music. It may not seem all that courageous on the surface, but as a daring act of freedom in a world where freedom is in short supply, maybe it was!
Thank you for daring with us,
Kitti
