They fled after Kabul fell. Now, Afghans in the US worry about their future.
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Sarah Matusek Staff writer
| Indianapolis
Bahar Hoshmand is too young to recall the journey from Kabul to Indianapolis. Her family fled soon after the lengthy U.S. operation in Afghanistan collapsed, four years ago this month. As the Taliban retook control, her mother knew that people like them, who had supported the American military, would be targets under the new regime. And so they came here, where Bahar is making friends in kindergarten and loves the color pink.
But like many Afghan refugees, Bahar鈥檚 mother, Najia Sherzad Hoshmand, worries about family members still under Taliban rule. For more than a decade, she had a banking job that supported the U.S. military. She is now safe in the United States with lawful permanent residence and works as the director of refugee resettlement at the nonprofit Patchwork Indy.
She says back in Afghanistan, however, the Taliban has visited her family home. She has petitioned for her mother to join her here.
Why We Wrote This
Four years after the end of the war in Afghanistan, tens of thousands of Afghan allies have relocated to the U.S. As the Trump administration tightens immigration policies, some Afghans are increasingly worried about their status, and their chances of reuniting with family members still abroad.
Like other Afghans in the U.S., she is still hoping to reunite with family members. Yet many in her position worry the chances for that are increasingly slim. Even as advocates on both sides of the aisle continue to push the American government to help those Afghans who assisted the U.S. effort, the Trump administration鈥檚 shift in immigration priorities from humanitarian assistance to removal has ended, or dramatically narrowed, pathways into the U.S.
The administration, for instance, has suspended the U.S. Refugee Admissions Program. The government has also reduced relocation assistance for Afghans abroad. An Indiana military base that once housed the Hoshmand family 鈥� and some 7,600 other Afghans evacuated by the U.S. 鈥� may soon be used to detain immigrants.
鈥淭here鈥檚 a lot of uncertainty about what鈥檚 going to happen,鈥� says Bahar Jalali, assistant teaching professor of history at Loyola University Maryland with a focus on Afghanistan. 鈥淭hings are really, really dire for those family members left behind. 鈥� From the Taliban perspective, they鈥檙e guilty by association.鈥�
Fear for those left behind
In the summer of 2021, Samira burned the papers connecting her to the U.S. government in a pail of hot coals. With the Taliban poised to retake Afghanistan, she knew those documents tied to her work as an interpreter posed a risk.
(Like several of the people interviewed for this story, Samira asked The Monitor to use only her first name to protect relatives still in Afghanistan.)
Her family had been preparing for the takeover, digitizing documents and burning English books.
She recalls watching reporters on TV four years ago who were at a loss for words as they documented Kabul鈥檚 fall to the fundamentalist militants.
鈥淲e all started crying,鈥� says Samira, 鈥渂ecause we didn鈥檛 know what to do.鈥�
As a college student, Samira says she was drawn to work for the U.S. because she expected her employer to respect her ethnic identity as a Hazara, a group that has faced discrimination and attacks in Afghanistan. Now, she says former colleagues in Afghanistan have been imprisoned and tortured by the Taliban, targeted for their American affiliations.
After fleeing Afghanistan and waiting in Albania with her teenage sister for almost two years, Samira entered the U.S. in 2023 with a Special Immigrant Visa. Based in Boston, she now has a green card. Here, she is allowed to work and her sister can attend school.
Still, the sacrifice of her parents, who remain in Afghanistan, weighs on her. She鈥檚 been trying to bring them over through a family reunification petition.
鈥淚 kind of need to save them, and also give them their family back,鈥� she says.
Many advocates believe that the U.S. has both a moral and strategic obligation to facilitate these reunifications.
Even if an opportunity to come to the U.S. wasn鈥檛 an explicit part of government contracts with Afghans, there was an expectation that allies and their families would be protected, says Andrew Sullivan, an Afghanistan veteran and executive director of No One Left Behind, a nonprofit that helps relocate Afghan allies to the U.S.
鈥淚t was widely understood amongst the Afghans that took the personal risk, signed up to serve with Americans, signed up to go on patrols and face roadside bombs and snipers and firefights, and all the rest, that if they served faithfully for a year, that this Special Immigrant Visa program, which was in blackletter American law, would be there to assist them,鈥� he says. 鈥淎nd it was understood by U.S. troops.鈥�
He says the country hasn鈥檛 done enough to honor those promises, but doesn鈥檛 lay blame 鈥渁t the feet of any one administration,鈥� he says. Congressional inaction has also played a role.
Beyond the immediate safety of Afghan families, there鈥檚 also a concern tied to American national security long term, he says.
鈥淭he U.S. is going to go abroad again,鈥� he says. 鈥淚 worry that if we don鈥檛 do right by our Afghan allies, allies of our longest war 鈥� we will not have those local nationals that will serve with us, because they just won鈥檛 trust Americans anymore.鈥�
At first, support for refugees
After the fall of Kabul to the Taliban on Aug. 15, 2021, hasty evacuations, including on military aircraft, resulted in tens of thousands of Afghans arriving at U.S. bases. The last U.S. military flight left Afghanistan on Aug. 30, 2021.
At the time, most U.S. adults said they accepting Afghans as refugees if they worked with the U.S. or Afghan government during the war and passed security checks. Support from Democrats stood at 76%, followed closely by Republicans at 74%. Americans like Teresa Towriss were moved to help and serve as sponsors. In 2022, the retired business attorney learned how to support arriving Afghans through her church in Indianapolis.
At first, she drove people to dental appointments. Then, she helped three women get driver鈥檚 licenses 鈥� after accompanying the women on practice drives and pairing them with interpreters.
鈥淚 felt like I spent most of my career, honestly, helping wealthy people get wealthier,鈥� says Ms. Towriss. 鈥淚 hadn鈥檛 done much to contribute for the good of humanity.鈥�
Also in 2022, a federal inspector general under the Biden administration concerns with the screening of evacuees, including wrong or missing personal data.
The Department of Homeland Security 鈥渕ay have admitted or paroled individuals into the United States who pose a risk to national security and the safety of local communities,鈥� says the watchdog report.
President Donald Trump, who has expressed to bring over more Afghans who fled after the U.S. withdrawal, has echoed these security concerns.
鈥淲e know the good ones, and we know the ones that maybe aren鈥檛 so good,鈥� he said at a White House event last month.
Narrowing pathways
Afghans have entered and stayed in the U.S. through several ways over the past four years. Thousands applied for Temporary Protected Status, which the Trump administration moved to end for Afghanistan this spring.
Others came through the formal refugee admissions program run by the State Department. Unlike parolees or asylum-seekers, refugees are approved for protection in the U.S. before they arrive 鈥� though that process can take years. On his first day back in office, Mr. Trump suspended the refugee settlement program, a move now under litigation.
Lawmakers in the U.S. House of Representatives reintroduced the Afghan Adjustment Act on Aug. 5 to offer an alternate path to lawful permanent residence for Afghans still lacking that status in the U.S. Similar bills have failed over the past three years.
Separately, Afghans continue to enter the U.S. lawfully with what are called SIVs 鈥� Special Immigrant Visas. According to government numbers, around 78,000 Afghans have received these visas since September 2021. Those visas require confirmation of past work tied to the U.S. government, an interview, and other vetting. While Afghanistan is one of 12 countries whose citizens are restricted from entering the U.S. for what the administration says are security reasons, Afghan SIV holders are exempted. But advocates say the administration's pausing of aid that funded flights to the U.S. for those Afghans has made it hard for many to afford travel on their own.
Some private sector groups have tried to fill this gap. No One Left Behind reports buying 2,300 commercial flights for SIV holders since February, funded through private donations. Many of these families have been hiding out in Pakistan, whose government is Afghans. Others have been waiting on an American military base in Qatar for a chance to come to the U.S.
Still, the State Department says it continues processing applications for Afghan SIVs. As of March, the average processing time for those SIVs is over two years.
鈥淢any cases are pending action by the applicant, such as submission of required forms or other information,鈥� a State Department spokesperson says in an email.
Crucial to the relocation effort, say Mr. Sullivan and other advocates, has been a State Department office known by its acronym CARE: the Coordinator for Afghan Relocation Efforts. But the department has announced plans to shut down that program as part of its reorganization 鈥渇ocused on an America First foreign policy.鈥� CARE鈥檚 operations moved to another office as of this summer, according to the spokesperson.
Afghan advocates say immigration processes have been dogged with confusion and delays 鈥� not just around visa applications, but petitions for family reunification. There鈥檚 a lot of 鈥渇alse hope,鈥� says Anessa Novasio, senior staff attorney at CAIR Washington, a chapter of a Muslim civil liberties group.
Also in limbo are some Afghans who have already received green cards.
The Monitor interviewed three Afghan green-card holders who received Special Immigrant Visas years ago, then received letters from the State Department in February and March this year saying that their underlying approval is now withdrawn. The green-card holders say they know of many more Afghans in the U.S. who鈥檝e received this notice, which brings the future of their legal status into doubt.
The letters, reviewed by The Monitor, cite a lack of 鈥淨ualifying employment鈥� and 鈥渟ufficient documents.鈥� Neither the State Department nor U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services responded to related requests for clarification.
鈥淚t was really a confusing thing,鈥� says Mohammad, a civil engineer in California who鈥檚 one of the impacted green-card holders. Beyond appealing that notice, Mohammad says he also recently applied for asylum.
鈥淏ecause I鈥檓 afraid of losing my legal basis in the U.S.,鈥� he says.
鈥淚 want to show my loyalty鈥�
Despite uncertainty, Afghan families are putting down roots. Ms. Sherzad Hoshmand and her husband gave birth to their fourth child here and bought a home.
Within the broader Indianapolis community, some Afghan wives, often homemakers, never learned to read or write in their mother tongues. Through the Afghan American Community Center she founded, Ms. Sherzad Hoshmand has arranged free English classes for women held at a YMCA. She plans to start driver鈥檚 ed classes for the women this week.
鈥淪o they can become independent,鈥� she says on a recent afternoon in class.
Over a dozen women bend their heads over sheets of paper, pencils twitching in their grips. Someone鈥檚 young son bounds over to the snacks and cracks open a pistachio.
Student Fakhria Jamal, a refugee who says she waited months in Pakistan before arriving here, steps up to the whiteboard to practice. In blue marker, she writes with a steady hand: 鈥淚 go to school every day.鈥�
Across the room, another table of women reviews days of the week. Asked if they have family members who worked for the U.S. government, most raise their hands.
One woman opens her notebook to show off her English script. She鈥檚 written the phrase 鈥淭hank you鈥� dozens of times, filling a page.
The next page is rows of 鈥淵ou are welcome.鈥�
On the East Coast, an Afghan nicknamed Iqbal, who worked on an American military base in southern Afghanistan, became a U.S. citizen in June. His four children are Americans, too.
He had entered the U.S. on a Special Immigrant Visa in 2019. Since then, he says his cousin, who also worked with the Americans, survived a shooting to the head by the Taliban.
Iqbal hopes that as a citizen, he will be able to bring over his mom, who is still in Afghanistan. Currently an Uber driver, Iqbal also wants to work for the U.S. government again someday.
Grateful for the country鈥檚 support of him, he says, 鈥淚 want to show my loyalty.鈥�
