Swim lessons give ‘first step here in America’ for refugee women
Classes immerse immigrants from Iraq and Syria into building new life
Zainab Altameemi stood in the outdoor pool of the Trotter Family YMCA in west Houston on a recent Monday, donning a black burkini, a swimsuit that covers her hair and entire body.
Altameemi’s swim instructor, Kirby Frank, was trying to get her to float on her back. A skeptical, hesitant look appeared on her face.
The Iraqi refugee has been taking swimming lessons since January, along with half a dozen other refugee women. For many of them, coming from more conservative societies in Iraq and Syria, this is one of the first times they’ve had the opportunity to learn to swim. But the classes, organized by Interfaith Ministries of Greater Houston volunteer Chloe Krane, mean more than just learning to swim: They signify the women overcoming their fears and building a thriving, independent life in a new country.
“It’s the first step here in America,” said Sonobar Badeel, one of the students and a refugee from Iraq.
The salty, blue-green waters of the Mediterranean Sea lapped up onto the sandy shores in Alexandria, Egypt, getting dangerously close to Altameemi’s toes when she was vacationing
there a few years ago. She thought she would try to swim for the first time, peering out to see her husband fully immersed in the water — and in joy.
But her fear stopped her. Altameemi, 35, is from Baghdad, but moved to Egypt with her parents in 2001 for her father’s job. By the time her dad had finished his work stint four years later, Iraq was embroiled in the war with the United States and was no longer safe — so Altameemi stayed in Egypt, eventually getting married and having two children.
Life in Egypt wasn’t easy, and going back to Iraq wasn’t an option.
“In Egypt, the day-to-day life was hard,” she said in Arabic. “Schools were expensive, cost of living was expensive and work was hard to find.”
Houston, where Altameemi came with her family as refugees in 2016, is the polar opposite. Schools are better, the opportunities for her now-three children — ages 11, 7 and 18 months — abound and there is support.
“Here, you feel like you’re a person, you have a character, you can learn — even if you get older,” she said.
When Krane brought up her swimming lessons idea to the women in the empowerment group she heads, Altameemi thought, “No way.” But when she thought of the approaching summer season, and how much her kids enjoy swimming, she reconsidered.
Plus, she said, “It’s something just for me. I like to learn — I feel joy.”
The group of women desperately clung to the wall of the pool as they stood in the shallow end during their first class. Panicked, each woman tried to encourage another one to let go of the wall in between nervous laughs.
Eventually, Badeel was the first one to let go — and she said it felt like the greatest achievement.
“It was so hard the first day, but then it was just an incredible feeling,” she recalled, beaming.
Fear, and subsequently courage, are not unfamiliar to Badeel.
The 36-year-old is from the Iraqi village of Bashiqa, less than 20 miles northwest of Mosul. She and her family are Yazidis, the ethnoreligious minority that was persecuted by the Islamic State group.
“We didn’t plan to leave Iraq at all,” Badeel said. “We had a life there. My husband and I were teachers. We bought land and were planning to build a house.”
But then ISIS took over Mosul in 2014, and was on its way to Bashiqa’s large Yazidi population. Yazidis were being killed, the women raped and taken as sex slaves, the children sacrificed or trained to be child soldiers.
It was a nightmare. For two weeks, Badeel and her husband didn’t sleep, patrolling their home to protect their children. They fled to Kurdistan in 2014, and came to the U.S. two years later.
When she resettled in Houston in 2016, Badeel and her husband were depressed and hopeless.
But Badeel started to see it as a fresh start to build a safe, happy life for her family. And although she had fears, she was driven to overcome them.
There are other refugee women, Badeel said, who are too scared to even leave their homes — and they are shocked to see Badeel going out on her own.
When she’s in the water, the burdens are lifted off her shoulders and worries escape her mind.
“I don’t want my kids to be afraid of anything, whether it’s swimming or anything else,” Badeel said. “When kids see that we’re not afraid, they’re not even going to think of a reason to be scared.”
Badeel and Altameemi never thought to try to swim in Iraq.
“It’s not acceptable for women to go to the pool back in Iraq,” Badeel said. “Their place is in the house, whether or not they’re married.”
Going from a society where swimming is unacceptable for women, to one where it’s normal, highlighted for Badeel and Altameemi the opportunities they have in the U.S.
They know that they’ll be able to achieve so much more. Badeel, for instance, is studying to re-validate her certificate to teach elementary school. She has seven years of experience in Iraq.
Altameemi wants to master English for more independence. “I need it to go to the doctor, to buy groceries, anything,” she said.
After that, she wants to learn computer skills, such as how to use Excel.
It isn’t to say that there haven’t been, and won’t be, challenges in adjusting to a new country. Money can be tight, visas and citizenship issues are headache-inducing, and lack of community is isolating.
But, Zainab said, “when someone is determined, even if they’re scared, they can learn.”
Back at the pool, Zainab and the other women walked out of the shallow end and buckled flotation devices around their waists.
“Bismillah” — which means “in the name of God,” — Zainab said as she lowered herself into the deep end.