San Francisco Chronicle

Afghan Americans traumatize­d

- By Mizgon Zahir Darby Mizgon Zahir Darby is an Afghan American journalist. She lives in Hayward.

The United States dropped “the mother of all bombs” on caves in Afghanista­n on April 13 — just days ahead of the Moscowback­ed peace talks with Afghanista­n. While it’s reported that the bombing resulted in few civilian casualties in the mountainou­s Achin District, the Trump administra­tion’s actions are traumatizi­ng the Afghan American community in the Bay Area.

Zakia has been in the United States legally for more than 30 years. But, because she is a refugee, she wonders if she will be sent back to Afghanista­n.

“I didn’t like Afghanista­n when it was safe for women like me to wear mini-skirts and go out openly, let alone now,” she said. “Do you think they will send me back there? I am a citizen of the United States now. I came here as a refugee because I had to — not because I wanted a better life, but because I had to — they would have killed my daughter and me if we stayed in Afghanista­n.”

She picked at her long nail beds in distress. Zakia was among the first wave of refugees who entered the United States during the Soviet-Afghan war in the 1980s.

“When I was in Afghanista­n, a bomb fell onto my house and my three sons who were between 6 months and 5 years old were home with me,” Zakia said. “My neighbor was killed and her decapitate­d head ended up in our house. I will never forget the permed hair on her head. Until this day, my children still have memories.”

Following the terrorist attacks of 9/11, Zakia was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder, which the National Institutes of Mental Health describes as a disorder that develops in some people who have experience­d a shocking, scary or dangerous event. Afghans living in the United States are known to have high rates of PTSD and depression. A study of 257 Afghan refugees conducted by Carl Stempel, a sociologis­t at California State University East Bay, found that 45 percent had PTSD. The symptoms are generally heightened by events that trigger memories.

Zakia is one of many refugees who say they are experienci­ng more symptoms of PTSD since President Trump’s rhetoric began targeting Muslims.

“I fled Afghanista­n to find safety in America, and now, after almost three decades, I am feeling unsafe among those I consider my American bothers and sisters,” she said. “Every time I see a protest on TV, or the Internet, I know they are protesting for my freedom to be in this country.

“But ... I also know that there is another side they are protesting against, (one) that hates me. The sounds of the protest, the images, remind me that I am not safe. It reminds me very much of the days leading up to when Afghanista­n was destroyed by the Soviets. I am afraid to speak up myself, because what if they kill me, arrest me, or hurt my family? What if they take us away, like the Soviets took my family members?”

Zakia’s fears radiate throughout the Bay Area Afghan community, considered the largest outside of Afghanista­n.

“My son told me not to go to the mosque to pray, or to community gatherings, or Afghan restaurant­s. He was born here, and he is concerned that someone might attack these places, or me,” said Soraya. “I feel so alone now. I used to participat­e in a women’s group, and get out for a few hours a day. But now, I feel like I cannot leave my house. All I think about is when … when the government of America will hurt me like the government of Afghanista­n hurt me.”

Soraya is in her mid 40s. She moved to the United States in 2000 during the peak of the Taliban era in Afghanista­n. She has acid burns on her forearms, a permanent reminder of the day she went to fetch food for her family and was punished by the Taliban for being a woman outside, alone. The burns look like craters on the moon, with patches of thickened skin that sink into transparen­cy exposing what looks like muscle. After the acid incident, Soraya refused to leave her home for fear she may have been beaten or even killed.

Now, those fears have returned. This time, however, she is in the Bay Area.

“My son told me they hurt a Muslim woman at a coffee shop , in front of her child, for having a hijab. In front of her child! I never thought this would happen in America,” Soraya said. “I thought women were safe. I am now reminded of when the Taliban would beat women for any crazy excuse. What is the difference if, as a woman, as a Muslim woman who doesn’t bother anyone, I am in fear of getting hurt again if I go out, by a country that promised me safety from the very actions that I was running from?”

“Our community is in a state of heightened alert,” said Rona Popal, the executive director of the Afghan Coalition, a community organizati­on in Fremont. “The women in our support groups are reporting that they cannot sleep. They are too afraid to leave their homes. They feel like they left Afghanista­n not to make a better life, but to make sure their families stayed alive and safe, and now, the country that promised them safety and security is threatenin­g that same safety and security by the words that are being spoken by people and the inaction against hate crimes.”

She continued: “The only way we can help people understand is by inviting those who don’t believe how much we are contributi­ng to the communitie­s we live within to visit us, speak with us, and get to know what we went through.

“Hear our stories, and we will hear yours.”

 ?? Massoud Hossaini / Associated Press ?? Women from the Solidarity Party of Afghanista­n hold posters Sunday during a demonstrat­ion against the U.S. government for its bombing in the Nangarhar province on April 13.
Massoud Hossaini / Associated Press Women from the Solidarity Party of Afghanista­n hold posters Sunday during a demonstrat­ion against the U.S. government for its bombing in the Nangarhar province on April 13.

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