Remaining Hopeful in a Broken World

My time as a Haas Center Cardinal Quarter Summer Fellow was a catalyst for one of the most transformative experiences I had during my time at Stanford. During the summer of 2023, I interned with Asyl in der Kirche Berlin-Brandenburg, which is an organization that offers protection and support to asylum seekers in Germany.

German churches have an agreement with the state that allows them to offer asylum to refugees who are at risk of deportation. My host organization offers refugees consultations with a lawyer. It also pairs eligible refugees with church parishes who can offer them protection and support them as they start their asylum application process in Germany.

One of my most memorable experiences began on a sunny Tuesday afternoon in the middle of Berlin’s Kreuzberg neighborhood. I had just sat down in the church courtyard at a table with four Syrian men to enjoy a waffle dusted with powdered sugar and a cup of strong black tea. I was there for a weekly community event called Familiengarten (which translates to “family garden”) which took place every Tuesday.

The Familiengarten brought together an unusual combination of people: grandma climate activists; newly-arrived refugees from Syria, Yemen, and Ukraine; refugees who had lived in Germany for several years; and neighbors from Kreuzberg who came to share some coffee and cake. I did not have any languages in common with the group at my table, but language barriers did not stop us from communicating. They quickly taught me how to introduce myself in Arabic and we began a conversation.

A moment later, one of my colleagues pulled me aside and asked if I would be willing to accompany one of the community members to her appointment at the Bundesamt für Migration und Flüchtlinge (BAMF)—the federal office for migrants and refugees—since she was feeling very anxious and needed some support. Eager to help, I quickly agreed to accompany her. I wrote down the address and we decided to meet fifteen minutes before her 8:30 am appointment that Friday.

I had no idea what awaited me at the office but I soon learned that the appointment was an interview that would determine whether the community member I was accompanying would receive asylum in Germany. What I had anticipated would be a short meeting ended up lasting the entire day.

We waited in a room full of weary people, some of whom slept while others stared at the floor or the clock, waiting for their name to be called. My new friend offered me some cherries that she had brought as a snack and began to tell me about her journey from Syria to Germany, via Turkey and Bulgaria.

She shared harrowing details of torture and imprisonment, showing me photos of a woman she had met along the way who had given birth to her baby in a forest. She told me about her experience hiding inside of a couch in a truck to reach her destination. Her journey had lasted eight years, from the moment she fled violence under the Assad regime to her appointment that day in Berlin.

Eventually, a stern but friendly woman called us into her office and began the interview with an interpreter by her side. She asked for a detailed account of my companion’s reasons for fleeing Syria and the route she took to arrive in Germany. Meticulously recording every detail on her computer, she fashioned a report to present at a later meeting that would determine her future. The interview lasted well into the afternoon without breaking for lunch.  

I had read about migration stories like hers and had even studied them in a Stanford class, but this personal encounter shook me in a way I had never before experienced. Seeing torture scars on another person's body with my own eyes and personally hearing about the physically and psychologically violent treatment that she and so many others had endured weighed heavily on me.

There were times this summer when I lost hope in the world and no longer saw the goodness of humanity, but with every heartbreaking encounter I had, I also encountered loving people and witnessed acts of kindness, bravery, and generosity that restored my hope. This summer introduced me to the injustices of this world on a more personal level but also taught me not to let go of my idealistic outlook, for only as long as we can envision a better world will we be able to achieve the changes we desire.

In December, I received an exciting WhatsApp message from the friend I had accompanied in Berlin. She shared that she had received her German documents and had signed a contract for a full time job! I beamed with joy at the sight of her message. Unfortunately, not everyone’s migration story ends with a passport and a job. Achieving future justice within the immigration system will demand continuous activism, solidarity, and a universal understanding of shared humanity. We must continue that work.