In 1975, when United States forces withdrew from Vietnam, many Vietnamese feared for their lives in our war-torn country. Thousands were airlifted out by the U.S. military, and waves of refugees soon followed. My mother was among those who fled.
Like many others, she left her home in the middle of the night, spent two weeks on a boat crossing to Indonesia, and then waited a year in a refugee camp before coming to the U.S. When she finally arrived in California in 1982, she spoke no English and had a three-month-old baby. But her courage built a new life in Southern California.
When American troops pulled out of Afghanistan in August 2021, I didn’t immediately think of my own family’s journey, but I did feel immense sadness. And I wanted to help. Resettlement agencies were quickly overwhelmed by the sudden influx of some 70,000 Afghan evacuees brought here by the American government. But the situation was so overwhelming. What could I really do?
Two months later, I found a solution: Viets for Afghans, a volunteer-driven coalition that helps Afghan refugees resettle in the U.S. The initiative started with a simple text chain among friends and, in just over a year, has helped nine Afghan families in need of housing, jobs, and medical care. Like me, most of the volunteers have some personal connection to the refugee experience. I quickly began to see the parallels between the families I was helping and my own. I also knew that with the right support, these newcomers could thrive, just as we have.
The need for civilian support is crucial, because formal resettlement agencies are at capacity. Resources are so limited that one social worker might be assigned 10 or 20 families. When I connected with Viets for Afghans, they assigned me to a sponsor circle, a small volunteer team tasked with helping a single family. In our case, this was a family whose father had worked for the American government. The parents were in their mid-twenties and the three children, aged 20 months, 3 and 5.
Our first task was raising funds. I sent a text message to my personal network of co-workers and lontime friends, sharing why this work was near and dear to my heart. As it turns out, people are happy to donate to a friend they can trust, often more so than to a random non-profit they have never worked with before. Within six hours, we’d raised $6,000 and utilized company matching benefits to double the sum.
Most of this money paid for several months of rent while the father looked for a job. The hunt for work was challenging. First, we had to get the parents’ work visas in order. Then we had to find an employer that would hire a newcomer without English fluency. All this reminded me of my family’s struggle. Early on, my mom’s limited English relegated her to low-wage jobs that often paid less than minimum wage. There was no one to help her navigate public transportation, so she relied on her bicycle for months, which further limited her job opportunities and access to other resources. Though I was fluent, I experienced barriers too. It was only after I started putting the Americanized name “Florence” on job applications that I started getting hired. Our family experienced outright racism but also a more subtle lack of empathy simply because we were different from our neighbors.
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Our sponsor circle wanted to show our Afghan family the compassion they might not receive elsewhere. Whatever we lacked for in experience, we made up for in genuine concern and determination. We taught the family how to take the local bus, pay their electricity bill, and make doctor’s appointments. Today, our Afghan father uses public transit to commute to his job at a local hotel. He is learning English and can now correspond with me via Whatsapp. He’s excited to learn and build a life here for his family. That’s typical for refugees who may arrive with few connections or possessions, but get on their feet quickly. According to research by the American Immigration Council, refugees have comparatively high rates of entrepreneurship, homeownership and, over time, a higher median household income.
The mother and father in the family we sponsored are about the same age that my mother was when she first arrived in the U.S. When I see the eldest daughter, I see myself. I’m committed to helping her father learn English, so she won’t forever be the family translator. She and her siblings have already seen and experienced too much pain. They deserve a real childhood. And they deserve a chance to grow to their full potential. I know they will, just as I know that one day, they’ll pay their success forward. They’d do it because of what they’ve achieved. Like me, they’ll do it because there’s nothing more gratifying or more American.
Florence O’Quinn is a member of Viets for Afghans, a first-generation American and the daughter of a Vietnamese refugee.