Bahader Hotak grew up in Kabul, the capital of Afghanistan. He lived in a safe neighborhood, where the local kids would gather around and play soccer and cricket together. He came from a military family, and in 2021 was an instructor at the city’s police academy.
“From 2001 till 2021, Afghan people experienced freedom, education, peace,” says Hotak. “Although we had wars, ... the central cities were good and very peaceful and secure.”
Then on August 15, 2021, after the United States withdrew troops from Afghanistan, the Taliban invaded Kabul and took over the government and the country. Then-president Ashraf Ghani fled. Civilians panicked and rushed to the airport — trying to leave the country out of fear of the incoming oppressive regime.
“The airport was surrounded by concrete walls and there were gates secured by U.S. troops,” says Hotak. “Those gates were your entry to heaven from hell…thanks God at the last attempt we were able to get in.”
It took Hotak and his brothers four tries to gain entry into Kabul’s airport. When they finally got in, they left the same day. They would end up in Qatar, and later in Germany while they waited for permanent relocation as official refugees.
Last month, the Trump administration suspended federal funding for resettling refugees. Local organizations, including those that support people like Hotak and his brothers, were sent scrambling to figure out how to continue supporting newly resettled refugees.
"It's not right"
“The last family to arrive was a single mom with her two children,” says Andrea Vodicka, community engagement and grants manager at Hanan Refugees Relief Group in Milwaukee. “She arrived on January 20th. … We can’t just stop helping her. It's not right."
Vodicka says Hanan also helps with green card applications, but has been overloaded recently with requests over fear and confusion about what these executive orders mean for local immigrant populations.
Refugee status is designated for a person who fled their country from war, persecution or fear of losing their lives, to a secondary country where they safely apply for refugee status. Then, they’re placed in a third country.
For 27-year-old Bahader Hotak and his brother, 24-year-old Qadir Shah, that meant ending up in Newark, New Jersey, before eventually moving to Milwaukee to reunite with their older brother, Raza.
“When we moved from New Jersey to Milwaukee, we would be like ‘we moved from the city to the village,'” says Bahader Hotak. “I don’t know if I still believe that or not but I think not.”
“[In] Newark…we lived very close to downtown,” says younger brother Qadir Shah. “It was like an American dream, tall buildings, basically, you get to see all those different sports cars going by.”
When the brothers arrived in Milwaukee, they were greeted by Sheila Badwan, executive director of Hanan. Hanan, like other refugee resettlement organizations, has a public and private relationship with a national resettlement agency and the federal government, with all individuals being vetted by the UNHCR (United Nations High Commission for Refugees).
Andrea Vodicka says that the average amount of time a refugee spends being vetted is around five years. They’re the most thoroughly vetted immigrants that enter the U.S., she says.
In the Milwaukee area, there are three major refugee resettlement agencies: Hanan Refugees Relief Group, Lutheran Social Services and the International Institute of Wisconsin (IIW).
“I felt like I was mute and deaf”
Once a refugee is relocated, the agencies step in and provide basic services so the individual can successfully transition and start a new life in an entirely new world. Agencies usually work with clients for 90 days, although refugees have protected status for five years with supplemental services provided.
Before agencies take in cases, like the Hotaks, they review each person's history, including where they’re coming from, languages spoken, and medical needs. Once a case is accepted, agencies help with things like finding housing, paying for three months worth of rent and utility bills, language learning classes, cultural orientation classes like understanding U.S. laws, digital literacy, navigating the U.S. healthcare system and enrolling in schools.
“Without the agency I don’t know how we would’ve survived....I felt like I was mute and deaf,” says Bahader Hotak. “The English language that I learned is because of one of the volunteers of Hanan. We received this help and we have to pay it back one way or the other. And I imagine this is the kind of feeling all [refugees] must have.”
The federal refugee resettlement work stoppage order and the freezing of funds means resettlement agencies are not able to provide these services as they normally do.
“I’ve spent a lot of time emailing our alderpeople, the governor, county executives offices, state senators,” Vodicka says about fighting back against the executive order. “While the government can make the decisions that they make, the community can make their own decisions and they don’t have to be the same. I don’t think people realize the impact these [cuts will] have."
