What we do in this stage of history will greatly influence how our culture will survive. For a people who have existed between the Tigris and Euphrates since before it was called Mesopotamia, that is saying a lot. Chaldeans have experienced ethnic and religious persecution that has displaced us from our homeland, as documented by Minority Rights Group International. Many experts.

There are certain moments that capture the attention of the whole world. Moments where you’re able to later say, “I will never forget where I was when this happened.” I will never forget where I was when two planes crashed into the World Trade Center on 9/11. I was in Mrs. Ogurek’s 8th grade history class at St. Regis. After hearing the announcement of the first plane hitting the North Tower, our teacher rolled out a TV and the class watched live as the second plane hit the South Tower. It’s a memory that I will never forget. Moments like these define decades and move generations.

Throughout history, people have traveled from country to country fearful of change, knowing that some changes could threaten their identity. Thousands of Iraqis chose to live in Western countries since the beginning of the 19th century. The causes of immigration are many, people migrate for economic, political, social and cultural reasons or are forced to migrate under unimaginable circumstances.

As U.S.-Iran tensions flare, Iraq is caught in the middle between the rock and the hard place. Iraq knows it’s turning into a battlefield for the U.S. and Iran, but its hands are tied. 

One of the biggest cornerstones in a Chaldean’s life is their wedding day. From picking the hall to picking flowers, decorations, and the evening’s entertainment, Chaldean weddings have become legendary to the point of grandly being portrayed on an episode of ‘Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.’

The recent Iraqi protests have sparked a question that has plagued the Chaldean, Assyrian, and Syriac communities for the past five years: should the Christian indigenous people of Iraq remain in their native homeland, or is it time for exodus? The last five years have been nothing short of ruinous for the exiled Christian, Yazidi, and other indigenous people of Iraq. These communities have suffered devastation, sickness, poverty, and desolation as a result of the Islamic State’s conquest of the villages across the country in June of 2014.

I remember reading a meme a few years ago that said something like: “when someone makes you mad, just delete them off your Facebook page. That’ll really show ‘em what’s up!” Little did the creator of that meme know just how impactful that statement would be!

Vape, JUUL, e-cigarettes, whatever we want to call them, have been the latest and greatest craze in smoking. Vapor products, aka Tobacco Harm Reduction (“THR”) products, were originally marketed as a ‘safer alternative’ by providing a less harmful product.

Growing up as a person of color in the United States, I regularly struggled to find people in positions of leadership I could identify with. Where were the people that looked like me? The people that knew what my community needed?

Positions of American leadership were not for us, I thought. They were not created for us to hold or to be represented by. The system was not designed with us in mind.

President Trump recently proposed an immigration bill that would increase the number of highly skilled individuals (good idea) but limit the number of family and refugee immigrants (bad idea).

Decisions in government are not always about nice programs. Sometimes, it’s about life and death. The other night in my DC office, I stood in front of framed photos of young men and women from Nebraska who died in Iraq. Some of their families I know. Some I have never met. We have given so much, lost so much in Iraq, it’s hard to understand why further engagement is necessary.

Whenever you see Iraq on­line or on TV, you are shown image after image of war and destruction. That is not what I saw when I was there on a two-week mission trip with The Sh­lama Foundation.

I saw everlasting lush green fields, towering mountains that supplied fresh spring water and herds of woolly sheep grazing along the roadsides. I saw a great emphasis on higher education, and I saw that religious freedom exists. I felt the roots of my heritage, and I experienced unmatched hospitality, more than anywhere I’ve ever traveled.

This is a trip unlike any I have previously experienced, and a sad summary of my two weeks in Northern Iraq. It is the story of a catastrophe that has fractured the Christian community and their ancestral land since the invasion of Iraq 16 years ago. This led to the rise of ISIS, devastation and the global refugee crisis.

As a first generation American, the fight to achieve the American Dream is a constant one. My parents came to this country not long after they married in 1992. Es­caping persecution and looking for an opportunity to be more, they have been here for more than 20 years. They never achieved the Ameri­can Dream, though. My mother has worked harder than anyone I know, only to fall short of her own American Dream. In­stead, she worked tirelessly to make the American Dream attainable to me and my siblings.

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” Philippians 4:13

I always had this vision growing up that I wanted to one day share my life with someone and have a family of my own. Little did I know how that vision would become shat­tered. I walked down the aisle young, not knowing much about what the future would hold as I prepared for what life would be like once I said “I do.” I believed I was marrying my best friend at the time.

Back in 1991, after the first Gulf War ended with a cease-fire and Saddam Hussein started his campaign against the Kurds in the north, numerous Chaldeans who lived in, or adjacent to, the Kurdish areas left, running on foot north towards Turkey.