How refugees and immigrants can lead political change | Maytham Alshadood | TEDxMileHigh

When Iraqi immigrant and combat veteran Maytham Alshadood arrived in Denver, Colorado, his top priority was to get a college degree. But state law made that nearly impossible. In this inspiring talk, Maytham explains what happens when refugees and immigrants advocate for themselves.

This talk was given at a TEDx event using the TED conference format but independently organized by a local community. Learn more at https://www.ted.com/tedx

So, I grew up in Baghdad, Iraq.

I was a child during the First Gulf War

and a teenager in 2003,
when the US troops first rolled in.

I started veterinary school in Mosul,

but sectarian violence would get so bad

that I had to put my degree on hold
and move back home.

In the meantime,

my childhood friend and I got jobs
installing wired internet connections,

and most of our clients
were US contractors.

I'd always been a great English student
ever since I was little,

so when my friend asked,

"Do you want to be a combat interpreter
for the US military?"

I said, "Heck, yes!"

I was thrilled to be part of a solution,

to serve both countries

by rebuilding the new Iraqi government

and creating a better life
for my own people.

(Applause)

But I had no idea that this decision
would forever change my life.

Now, when I say
I was a combat interpreter,

you might guess I was
kind of like a human Google Translate

between the Americans and the Iraqis.

And that's what I thought too
before I was on the job.

Soon, I would learn
that combat interpreters,

they were way more than just translators.

To be a good interpreter,

you needed to be fluent
in every tiny cultural nuance,

every unique dialect
with its idioms, slang, and intonation.

For example,

in my native dialect to ask,
"How are you?"

you would say, "What color are you?"

which sounds kind of racist, right?

(Laughter)

Well, if you only knew
modern, standard Arabic

and not the native dialects in Iraq,

you might be offended.

But if you knew that particular
cultural nuance,

you would know that the other person
was actually being respectful

and just wanted to say hi.

(Laughter)

Combat interpreters were cultural
and generational liaisons,

advisers, and intelligence
network operators.

We were the link between the US troops
and the local populations.

And that link, that thread of trust
is as thin as a strand of hair.

Having an interpreter as your ally
means having hundreds,

if not thousands of others
as your allies too.

Problem is that terrorists realized
that in order to succeed,

they needed to break that link.

Combat interpreters
became a target overnight.

They put tens of thousands of dollars
in bounties over every interpreter's head.

Entire platoons would go unharmed,
except for the interpreter.

An IED explosion
would be timed just right,

or they'd be killed
by a single sniper bullet.

And if they couldn't find you,

they'd come after your family
till they got to you.

So I realized that it
didn't matter what happened.

Whichever way the war ended,
I'd be a target for the rest of my life.

The longer I stayed,

the more likely I was to get blown up,
shot down, or even kidnapped.

Eventually,

they'd hunt me down and kill me.

So I applied to the Special
Immigrant Visa program

for US-affiliated personnel.

It was a grueling 14-step process.

I had to be cleared
by the entire chain of command.

I was asked to get letters
of recommendation

from the lieutenants that I worked with
and the generals that I'd only heard of.

I had to prove
that my life was in jeopardy

because of my service
to the United States military.

They also asked me to supply
a whole range of documents

that I didn't even know existed.

And then, I waited.

I'd wake up in the middle of the night,
frantically refreshing my email,

hoping that I'd been accepted.

When your life is on the line,

a single month can feel
like an entire year.

All the while, things
just got worse and worse.

I remember watching a taxi
leave one of our checkpoints

with three of our guys inside.

They were headed home
to see their families.

Minutes later, they were shot at
by the insurgents,

and it was our duty
to recover their bodies.

When I got there,
one was already dead,

another taking his last breath,

and the third ended up
with crippling injuries.

That was by far the worst part of my job:

recovering the bodies of the men
and women that I served with.

But finally, after two years of waiting,

I got an email from the US Embassy
saying, "Congratulations. You got it!"

(Applause)

I kept opening my passport
over and over again

just to look at my visa.

I couldn't believe it.

It felt like I just got a ticket
to the rest of my life.

Possibly a one-way ticket, but who cares?

I'd be safe again, and my life
would be back on track soon.

So I packed a single carry-on bag,

which was all that we
were allowed to take with us,

said goodbye to my parents and siblings,

and four flights later,

I landed in Denver.

(Laughter)

(Applause)

Now that I'm in the US,

my top priority would be
to finish my education,

to finally get my college degree.

But when I went to sign up for classes,

I learned that none of my credits
from Iraq were accepted here,

even though I'd had them all
translated and certified

by the Ministry
of Higher Education in Iraq.

And what's more,

I was told that I was
an out-of-state student,

(Laughter)

which did not make any sense to me.

(Laughter)

I don't have another state to go to.

I just got here.

(Laughter)

I don't have the money
to pay out-of-state tuition,

nor could I afford so much debt.

So yet again, my education
was put on hold.

I was pissed!

(Laughter)

I'm not the first refugee
or immigrant to arrive to Colorado.

Surely, others had run into
this law before me.

Why had no one fixed it?

Well, getting a law changed
requires a strong voice

and a working knowledge
of our political system.

And if you are a refugee,

almost by definition,
you have been oppressed,

usually by the same government
that was supposed to represent you.

When I was a kid,

I remember there was
an Iraqi presidential referendum.

The ballot read, "Do you approve
of President Saddam Hussein

as the president of the Republic?

Yes or no?"

There were no other
options there, just Saddam.

(Laughter)

When my older brothers
went to cast their ballots,

an official from Saddam's ruling party
stood over the ballot box

and demanded to see their ballots.

If he saw how they really voted,

my entire family would have
been marked for retaliation.

And they used the scare tactic

at every single polling center
across the country.

In the end,

99.47% of eligible voters turned out,

and somehow,

99.99% of these voters
approved of Saddam's presidency.

(Laughter)

At least they saved us the headache
of the whole Electoral College thing.

(Laughter)

(Applause)

But all kidding aside,

that's what political
oppression looks like.

And it isn't just Iraq.

This happens around the world today

in countries like Syria,
North Korea, and Myanmar.

In these regimes,

the people are expected
to work for the politicians.

And then, we come to places
like the United States,

where politicians
are expected to work for us.

(Laughter)

It's really hard to reconcile
these two contrasting political realities.

As immigrants and refugees,

we have to overcome every single instinct
that tells us to shut up and stay down.

But when we don't speak up,
others control the narrative.

Have you ever noticed how most people
talking about refugees and immigrants

on TV, in the news, at the Capitol,
and even on the TED stage

are not refugees or immigrants?

(Audience) Yeah!

(Applause)

So rarely do we speak for ourselves,

and then, we're portrayed
by the entire political spectrum

as helpless people in need of a handout
and nothing to offer,

which is largely untrue.

In a democracy,

if you do not advocate for yourself,
you'll just get pushed aside.

And that's what's happening
to refugees and immigrants right now.

So, for two years, I waited
to qualify for in-state tuition.

I worked security at the Denver Zoo,

walking around at night,
checking the animal areas,

listening to TEDTalks
on my phone to pass the time.

(Laughter)

(Applause)

Finally, I got into community college

and then university.

Eight years after I arrived to the US,

I got my bachelor's degree.

(Cheers) (Applause)

And now, I work full-time
as an organ transplant nurse.

(Cheers) (Applause)

But eight years though -
so much time wasted.

How frustrating.

How demoralizing.

I stopped complaining about everything
I was dissatisfied with

and decided to do something
about it instead.

Plus, I didn't want
future refugees or immigrants -

future generations
of immigrants or refugees,

to blame me

for not addressing these issues
before they got here.

Right?

I knew that real, sustainable,
and enduring change

happens at the policy level.

The obvious place for me to start
was the tuition problem.

Maybe I can help change the law

to grant immediate in-state tuition
to refugees and immigrants,

people that served and sacrificed,

people that have
a lot to offer to our nation.

Not a handout, mind you,

not free tuition.

We still pay just like everyone else
but at an in-state rate instead.

For a while,

people were looking at me
like I was crazy,

trying to get a law changed.

But I found two allies,

and we started requesting meetings
with elected officials.

Eventually, a state senator
from Boulder agreed to help,

and he applied for an exception

in order to introduce our bill
in the 2018 regular legislative session.

Yes. Progress!

I was really, really excited for that.

There was one problem, though.

That bill, Senate Bill 18-87,
or SB 87 for short,

was introduced in the Republican-held
Colorado State Senate,

at a time when anti-refugee and
anti-immigrant rhetoric was at its worst.

It was immediately assigned
to the State Affairs Committee,

aka the "kill" committee.

(Laughter)

Yup.

Where good bills go to die.

(Laughter)

Opponents and proponents alike
told us that our bill was going nowhere.

And I really started to doubt
whether this was possible.

But we would not let up.

We gathered every refugee,
immigrant, veteran,

and US-affiliated Afghan and Iraqi
with a story to tell,

and put them in front
of that committee to testify.

US military veterans testified

about how combat interpreters were often
the difference between life and death,

how entire families
served alongside our troops,

despite being targeted one by one.

One US veteran said that after he returned
home from Afghanistan,

he felt completely lost till he reunited
with the local refugee community.

Very few lawmakers can challenge
the truth of a combat veteran,

and in our case, no one did.

When it was my turn to testify,

I told them that I am not here

to take the American dream
away from my fellow Americans.

I am proof that we can be part
of that same dream.

(Applause)

To be honest with you,

it felt like we were building
the plane as we flew it.

(Laughter)

This was my first go
with American politics after all.

But by telling our own stories,

we got through that "kill" committee
and the entire Colorado State Senate

with a unanimous vote.

(Cheers) (Applause)

That same bill that was considered
too far left to get anywhere

was signed into law this past April.

And today,

every refugee and immigrant
that settles in Colorado

is eligible for in-state tuition
as soon as they hit the ground.

(Cheers) (Applause)

This is our roadmap now.

We're organizing refugees and immigrants
to advocate for themselves,

vote, change laws,

make a better life
for themselves and others.

The numbers are not on our side, though.

There are very few of us.

But we can make up for that

by being engaged at every level
and every step of the political process.

This isn't just about refugees
and immigrants, though.

It's about all of us.

It's easy to say that the game is rigged
and the system is lopsided.

And you know what?

I would have to agree.

The system is not perfect.
It's far from it.

But disengagement and apathy
are not going to fix anything.

And let's not forget
that this is not about how it has been.

This is about how it will be.

And if we are dissatisfied with
the actions of those that came before us,

then let's reset and do better
for the ones that come after us.

Thank you.

(Cheers) (Applause)