When I was just 17 years old, I had to leave everything I knew — my family, my friends, my home.
I grew up in North Kurdistan, where my people live under Turkish occupation. As a result, my identity and political beliefs were dangerous. I became a target of the Turkish government for standing up for my people, and for our rights. Speaking out meant facing threats, violence, and even imprisonment. I was constantly worried about whether I’d be targeted by the government next. I didn’t want to live in fear anymore. So, with nothing but a bag of clothes and a heart full of hope, I left my home to seek safety and stability.
I came to the United States alone, without family or anyone to turn to. I was a teenager trying to figure out how to survive in a place that felt like it might swallow me whole. But what scared me the most wasn’t being alone—it was the uncertainty. It was not knowing how I would make it, not knowing if I could stay safe, not knowing if I would have a future. In the American immigration system, I am called an “unaccompanied minor.”
I didn’t have the luxury of having someone to guide me through the immigration process. The immigration legal system felt like an impenetrable wall. I didn’t know where to go, who to trust, or how to even begin. The loneliness was overwhelming. There were nights when I wondered if I had made a mistake, if I was too far from home, too far from safety.
But then, something shifted inside me. I realized that if no one was going to help me, I had to help myself. I decided I would fight—not just for me, but for every lonely, scared, and lost immigrant who felt the way I did. I decided that when I grew up, I would become an immigration lawyer. I wanted to be the person I couldn’t find when I needed help, who would stand beside those who had no one else, and help them find hope when they couldn’t see it.
Today, at 19 years old, I am still a high school student. I am doing everything I can to maintain my grades and prepare for the future. Every day, I work a little harder, because I know that my dream is bigger than just me. It’s about the people I will one day help—the ones who come to this country seeking safety and a better life, just like I did. I want to be the lawyer who holds their hand through the tough times, who helps them navigate the system when it feels impossible, who listens to their stories and fights for them with everything I have.
My journey hasn’t been easy, but it’s made me stronger. It made me believe that no matter where you come from or what you’ve been through, you deserve a chance to live a life of dignity and freedom.
Recently, I was introduced to an organization called the New York Immigration Coalition. They are currently fighting for two bills to pass in the state legislature –the Access to Representation Act and the BUILD Act. I traveled from my home to Albany with them to fight for these bills, meeting with Assembly Members and Senators and telling my story at a rally in the State Capitol.
These pieces of legislation are what people like me in New York desperately need, which is guaranteed legal counsel in immigration court. For two years, I couldn’t find a lawyer who could take on my asylum case. I am grateful to the community who helped me find a great lawyer, but I should not have been navigating this system alone for so long. This legislation would have created a much easier pathway to find legal support, and would create the proper infrastructure for immigration legal services in New York to provide the help that others like me need to navigate a complicated immigration legal system.
Every morning, as the school day begins, I stand with my classmates to pledge allegiance to a country that promises “liberty and justice for all.” These words are a call to action, a reminder of the ideals this nation strives to uphold.
I hold onto the belief that liberty and justice are not just ideals but rights I will claim here in America. One day, I will stand alongside others who have walked a similar path, guiding them toward the safety and hope that I am still fighting to secure for myself.
