We are from the rubble of buildings we call home, from the fires that consumed our land and from the hatred that tears us apart.

We are from the tunes of Sahar Taha, from the heart wrenching Iraqi serial dramas, and from the witty remarks of comedians which used to entertain and unite all of Iraq.

We are from the missing limbs of our fathers and brothers, from the screams of our mothers and neighbors, and from the funerals of our people, too many to count.

We are from the fear of being bombed, from fires that tore down our land, and from the gunshots that filled our ears.

We are from the desperation that filled us, causing us to flee our home land, from the lost family members we tried to retrieve before leaving, and from bidding our goodbyes to a land we may not see again.

We are from the scary journey to America, from the racial slurs that assailed us, and from the life filled with happiness that awaits us.

We are from the relieve that filled us when we saw the Statue of Liberty, from the discrimination that attacked us we thought we left, and from people with a roof over our head, yet we still cannot call home.


If even in America, we are being discriminated, judged, watched, then where else are we supposed to go where we can be accepted and loved?