Roda Malco cover.jpg

Roda Malco and her family celebrating Christmas in 2016.

(c/o Roda Malco)

Roda Malco

By Roda Malco, Teaching Operations Manager for the Institute of Reading Development; Roda and her family moved to the United States as refugees in 2000 and she became a U.S. citizen in 2008

I am an Assyrian Christian born in Iran.

Since the fall of the Assyrian Empire, my people have lived in various countries in the Middle East, being pushed from one country to the next as a result of persecution, both religious and ethnic. Assyrians do not have a land to call their own. My life began in Iran, but America is where it flourished. This is my story.

I was born in Tehran in 1986, well after a revolution that altered the course of life for millions of Iranians. I was born at a time when compulsory veil laws were accepted as the norm; and women not being able to attend sporting events or sitting in separate sections of a bus were no longer protested against. In spite of the discriminatory laws against minorities and women - most of which I was too young to question at the time - Iran was the only home I had ever known.

I grew up playing on the streets with my Muslim friends and sharing the excitement of Christmas trees and Santa Claus with them. My family was never physically threatened by the government, like other members of the minority are in Iran (despite the religious freedom clause in the constitution) but we experienced discrimination in countless ways.

Roda Malco and her parents in Tehran in 1986

My mom was arrested once for having her nails painted red during the month of the Holy Fast, and although the fast is not mandatory for non-Muslims, she and my aunt were detained and questioned for hours.

One of my parents' early dates involves a detainment as well. They were taken to a station and questioned separately about the status of their relationship -if you were not married or engaged, you had little business being alone with a person of the opposite gender. They had to prove they were engaged (they weren't) by calling a witness (my uncle) who, when questioned separately, told the officers that my mom was betrothed to my father and the nuptial was impending.

I was told I couldn't attend a summer camp designed for students in my district with the highest GPA, if I didn't comply with the daily prayers and wear the prayer veil at all times. My parents only decided to uproot their three children, ages 12, 7, and six months, because they believed in giving us an opportunity to do better than them.

And so they decided to leave Iran.

The ways to escape Iran were limited. Some people walked through treacherous terrains to get to a different country, usually the European part of Turkey or another country in Europe (Germany, Greece, or Austria). This is dangerous as you are working with handlers along the way who often steal valuables and abandon escapees. Others took refuge in Pakistan, a country poorer than Iran and in many ways more dangerous, and sought refugee status with the U.S.

These were both routes my parents considered but ultimately decided against for the safety of my sisters and me. With the help of the International Rescue Committee, we flew to Vienna and were able to apply for asylum and refugee status from the American consulate.

Roda Malco and her family in Austria in January 2000.

We spent nine long months in Austria: we were fingerprinted, interviewed thoroughly, and even underwent a physical exam to ensure our health. In May of 2000, we boarded a plane headed for San Francisco, CA, with many stops along the way.

When I started high school, a few months after arriving to the United States, I spoke very little English and had very few friends. Although 9/11, which happened soon after our arrival, shook us to our core and brought with it a sense of cautiousness and fear in face of discrimination, my family assimilated into the fabric of this American experiment, culminating in our taking the oath of citizenship shortly before the 2008 presidential election.

Though I hope that my U.S. citizenship protects me from the recent changes in our immigration policy, I have family in Iran and Austria who are impacted by this ban. My cousin is stranded in Austria, without any money, and will have to wait for at least four months before her immigration process is resumed.

As a result of an Iranian retaliation, my grandmother, also a U.S. citizen, cannot go to Iran to visit her brother, for what may be the last time.

In the faces of all detainees at airports this past weekend, I saw my family members. That could have been me 17 years ago. It could have been my grandmother 14 years ago when she returned to the States after visiting her brothers, nieces and nephews.

The ban may or may not impact me in an immediate way -- it remains to be seen -- but it makes me question whether I belong in a country I have called home for most of my life. Can I continue to feel free and brave in a land that discourages the bravery of those willing to leave behind their homelands in order to seek freedom?