I’ve mobilized Westchester’s Jewish community to help Afghan refugees. Yet, on 9/11, we reflect on the fact that our work is far from done.
I recently spent the day in downtown Manhattan with a newly arrived couple from Afghanistan. They had come to America on a Special Immigrant Visa (SIV), fleeing inevitable retribution by the Taliban. As we drove past the new Freedom Tower and the 9/11 memorial, “Abdul” remembered 9/11 as a dark day, one that changed everything.
That day changed my life, too, and the lives of all Americans. I will never forget being in NYC on that tragic day, the stench of death that lingered in the air as far as my Upper West Side apartment, the deep sadness felt every which way, and the fear imposed on my beautiful city after that — anthrax and bomb threats blocks from my office, increased security at concerts and public performances, extra security precautions taken at the airport and during Shabbat and High Holiday services. Tears shed over our loved ones swept through NYC for many days, months, and years.
And now, twenty years later, it is impossible to not relive that day all over again and pray for the thousands whose lives were cut far too short. As I drove through lower Manhattan with Abdul, who had asked me to take him to the site of the World Trade Center, I wondered how anyone could be afraid of him. He is such a kind and honest man. He told me about living in fear for his life back home because he had served the American military as an interpreter and how fortunate he now feels to be living in America. But he was not always sure how receptive Americans would be to his presence as a Muslim. Like Adbul, many other Muslims have grown up in the shadow of 9/11. As a result, many Americans are hostile toward them, sometimes comparing them to terrorists.
Like Adbul, many other Muslims have grown up in the shadow of 9/11. As a result, many Americans are hostile toward them, sometimes comparing them to terrorists.
I have taken it upon myself to fight against this bias and change the narrative, and today reflecting on history, a day that touched all of us so personally, I will work harder to protect the human rights and social justice for immigrants, both here and abroad. And I will never forget how it felt that tragic day, living in NYC, on 9/11/01 in the city I love so very much.
For the past five years, I have been working as a volunteer welcoming refugees to America, and I have been involved with the resettlement of two Afghan families. As a result of this work, I feel very fortunate to know Adbul and many Afghan families who have come to live in Westchester on SIVs. Modest and humble, the men work hard and are devoted to their family and faith. Many of the women put their supreme sewing and cooking skills to professional use. After a few months, the children speak English well and love to read and play soccer.
Throughout the pandemic, I worked with six of these women on a mask-making project, making them income earners for the first time in their lives. In Afghanistan, few women work outside the home, and those who do risk social stigma, harassment, and discrimination. The project was not only empowering, but I also had the opportunity to build beautiful friendships with these women and their families. They believe very much in preserving their Muslim identities by wearing a hijab and traditional Afghan dress. I learned about their husbands, who worked as dedicated interpreters for the American military, and how their service to America endangered their lives so much that they were forced to leave Afghanistan.
Because of these close relationships, I co-founded Westchester Jewish Coalition for Immigration out of a desire to help work on critical issues that surround immigration with the help and involvement of my local Jewish community. We use an ethics-based framework to channel obligation into action. Many outstanding Westchester nonprofits were already focused on resettlement, so my co-founder, Eric Levine, and I concentrated our efforts on advocacy to ensure that immigration issues remain front and center. Our goal is to improve immigrants’ lives locally and nationally.
All of us at WJCI have a refugee story and are steadfastly committed to this work. For example, executive committee member Alan Himmelstein is the son of an immigrant who escaped Germany on a Kindertransport. Another WJCI activist Jeff Swarz is the great-grandson and grandson of Polish and Russian immigrants who fled poverty, pogroms, hunger, and death. Because of our millennia-long history of exile, antisemitism, and persecution, we all feel that as Jews, we must not allow history to repeat itself.
WJCI provides Westchester’s fifty-two synagogues access to postcard writing workshops, online petitions, and educational sessions about immigration reform. In addition, our calls to help immigrants are amplified in rabbi’s sermons and the media. Much of our work also involves collaborating directly with local legislators.
So far, we have advocated for many issues such as the Presidential Determination, the separation of families at the border, and now we are standing up to protect immigrant families impacted by Hurricane Ida. We also decided long ago that we would fight for the rights of SIVs (Special Immigrant Visas) who had protected our allies and deserved a safe passage out of Afghanistan.
By Passover of this year, we wrote to the Administration requesting a commitment to admitting and protecting all SIVs who assisted U.S. troops in Afghanistan and evacuating all SIVs and their families. We teamed up with local and national organizations and combined our advocacy efforts with local legislators to request their assistance. In addition, we signed letters of endorsement fighting to save our allies.
We also stepped up our efforts to help local families evacuate their loved ones. For example, we dipped into our network when we learned that one of our local Afghan mothers, a green card holder, had returned to Afghanistan to visit her ailing mother as the Afghan government fell. A rabbi, two other Westchester-based grass-roots organizations, the office of a United States senator, a local Congressman, a former U.S. Secretary of State, and the American State Department joined up to help her escape. We will not stop until we get the people out that our families are so worried about.
With the encouragement of Rabbis who see helping Afghan refugees as a mitzvah, Westchester’s synagogues are stepping up. In addition, social action committees from individual temples are springing into action all over the county to serve the Afghan community. This is partly because refugees and immigrants carry more moral urgency among synagogue leadership than in the past. In addition, the social activism surrounding immigration issues prompts more and more Jewish community members to stand up and speak out for better treatment and policies that protect our local immigrant communities.
With the recent withdrawal of American troops in Afghanistan and the thousands of Afghan lives at risk, Westchester’s clergy are talking about those who have been left behind on the bimah during their high holiday sermons. They are making them a part of their community’s discourse, prompting people to act. As a result, the number of volunteers who want to get involved in resettlement has increased considerably compared to five years ago when these issues flared up.
Whereas the decision to resettle Syrian refugees at the height of that crisis was a political issue for Jewish communities, the crisis in Afghanistan is seen as more of a humanitarian issue. There is no argument that all people are deserving of equal dignity and fundamental human rights. Many more Jewish community members are involved in the resettlement of refugees than ever before and are personally invested in standing up to “let my people go.”
As Jews, we have empathy for strangers because we were once strangers ourselves. Our connection to the immigrants we not only know, like the Afghan couple I drove through NYC for the first time, and the refugees we were once ourselves, drives our advocacy.
When the towers fell on Sept. 11th, it was a day of immense trauma and reckoning for the United States. Yet, we will never forget that it’s legacy, and the consequences of the American withdrawal from Afghanistan, will also be measured in the Afghan lives we save. As more Afghan families resettle here, many under the auspices of HIAS and synagogues, the narrative continues to change.
I had a beautiful yet sad feeling as Abdul recounted stories of all the family and friends he had left behind. As he stared up at the Freedom Tower from the car window, he said, “All I want is peace for everyone in the world.”
I know that the WJCI and I are not giving up hope.
