I was recently in talks with an Afghan television network about being the host of an entertainment
show in Afghanistan, a music based show.
Something like Australian Idol but the Afghan version.
I know, I know, the idea of a music based show in somewhere like Afghanistan is a little
bit ironic, isn’t it?
But these shows are a form of escapism just like they are for us.
It was still a very exciting development.
After all I’ve been building my career as a radio announcer and this could’ve been
the exciting next step.
Most parents would be proud, wouldn’t they?
But when I told my parents about it they were literally horrified.
I remember calling my mom and saying, “Mom, this is exciting, new opportunity.”
And her response was, “Have you lost your mind?”
Why do you think they felt that way?
Because Afghanistan is one of the most dangerous places in the world at the moment.
And anyone who has a high profile, especially in media, could potentially be a target.
Especially being a female and the host of an entertainment show.
And in the past people have had threats made against them.
So my parents were absolutely horrified, because it’s daring and dangerous.
But being daring and dangerous is in my blood.
My parents were boundary pushers.
And I’ve learned living on the edge from them.
26 years ago my family first migrated to this beautiful country as Afghan refugees.
My father an architect, my mother a midwife, both made the brave decision to escape the
country that was invaded by Russia at the time.
They paid a smuggler, with 3 children on horseback in the middle of the night and they escaped
the country.
Very little food and water.
Along the journey they couldn’t sleep because they had the threats of predatory animals.
My father’s and mother’s toenails fell off because of how much they had to walk.
And it was conscription at the time, so if you got caught it meant death on the spot.
My sister who was 6 months old was put on a horse but they had to carry her.
And we all know how heavy a baby can get carrying through a shopping center.
You just want to put the baby down.
Imagine if you couldn’t put the baby down because your life depended on it.
It was the most difficult decision of their life.
They finally made it across to Pakistan.
Along the journey there was hovering helicopters, bombs, and rockets, and my brother and my
sister were both asking the universal question, “Are we there yet?” which I’m sure they
appreciated.
Settling in Pakistan initially proved difficult as well.
I was later born in a refugee camp in Pakistan.
Eventually things started brightening up.
My father started working as an architect again.
My mother as a midwife.
But my father recognized that it was only through education that came opportunity.
So off they went again.
My father made many important contacts in Pakistan, and one who would potentially change
the course of our lives forever.
He helped us migrate to Australia.
We first arrived in what is now known as Villawood Detention Center, 26 years ago.
It wasn’t a detention center at the time but the place where migrants and refuges were
housed while they were on the state of transition.
So incredibly grateful for all the opportunities this country has provided.
But it’s scary to think that had my parents not escaped, and had Australia not accepted
us to migrate here, where would we be now?
The realities are that I’d be living the life of [Fariah 00:04:48].
Fariah is my first cousin.
She lives a little north of Kabul.
She’s in her 20s.
Has hopes and dreams to work, fall in love, have a career, get married, and take control
of her own life just like any other woman.
But the realities of her fate are that she may not ever have that.
Fariha always wanted to be a doctor.
But she was only allowed to go to school until she was 10 years old.
Fariah wakes up on a thin mattress on the floor.
She shares her room with 4 other people.
I wake up on my cotton bed sheets with my electric blankets.
Fariah’s task every day is to dress and feed her 8 siblings.
I wake up wondering what flavor protein smoothie will I have today, blueberry or strawberry?
Fariah can’t leave the house.
I get into my little hatchback, drive myself to work, and rely on the songs on the radio
to get my mind off the traffic.
Fariah prepares the same fire for the same breakfast of bread and tea every day.
I wake up wondering what heels I’m going to wear today.
Wedges?
Will I wear flats?
The furthest Fariah can go on her own is to the edge of her front garden.
With a swipe of a credit card and my passport in hand I could be on the other side of the
world tomorrow.
Fariah still wants to go to school but she may never.
That’s the realities of her fate.
And the stark reality is that could’ve been mine had Australia not allowed us to migrate
here.
So incredibly grateful for all the opportunities that this country has provided.
When I hear people saying, “Send them back.
You are not welcome here,” I feel like they are talking to me and my family.
What are some of the words you use when you talk about refuges?
What are some of the words that you hear?
Do you say refugee?
Do you say asylum seeker?
Illegal?
Unauthorized?
Desperate?
Hopeful?
Dangerous?
Do you see a boat full of hope or a boat full of threats?
I want you to take a look around you.
How many people here unknown to you could be refuges or the children of refugees?
What is some of the words you would use to describe them?
So my family are refuges.
What words would you use to describe my family?
Here’s some of the words I would use.
Hard workers, sacrificed for their children, hopeful, explorers, visionaries, devoted parents,
architect, midwife, journalist, student, manager, but most of all loving.
26 years later my father’s still a practicing architect.
My mother a retired midwife and 3 siblings who work hard in respectable fields and are
an asset to society today.
But that’s only because my parents pushed their family to boundaries and made sacrifices,
and that’s the only reason I’m standing before you today.
I hope that in 25 or 26 year’s time the children of today’s asylum seekers or refugees
have the same opportunities that I do.
It might be tempting for us to say no, but when we’re saying no, what do we say no
to?
In Australia we are boundary less.
We create our own destiny and our own opportunities.
Asylum seekers have all the qualities we want in an Australian.
Someone with resilience, someone who’s a boundary pusher, and someone who is willing
to do everything for the sacrifice and for the sake of their children and their families.
Isn’t that what every parent wants for their children?
It is said that luck is when preparation meets the moment of opportunity.
Australia is the lucky country.
How generous are willing to be with all this opportunity?
And it hasn’t come with preparation from past leaders and governments, but we have
taken all the contributions and have benefited from multiculturalism today.
Australia is my home.
I was invented here.
This country has provided me with so many opportunities.
And because of relatively free democratic society I’ve only had the same hurdles as
any other young woman of my age would face.
But I have choices and I have options.
Many refugees and asylum seekers like Fariah are thirsty to learn, to achieve, and to dream.
But they may never have that opportunity.
Maybe at this point in time I won’t be hosting an Afghan TV show in Afghanistan.
For now I’ll continue contributing to this society by working in media and hopefully
being a positive example to other refugee women and children, and showing them that
in this country anything is possible.
For now, I’ll hopefully be a model to everybody else who has stereotypes, unconscious stereotypes
about refugees and asylum seekers.
Many refugees have dreams, and I have a dream.
I dream of the day that we can change conversation about asylum seekers
and refugees.
I’m starting that dream by having this conversation with you today.
Hopefully, you’ll realize that even the person sitting next to you or your mother
or your sister or your friend is just like any other asylum seeker who wants to make
a contribution to this society.
I hope you’ll share my story and help change conversation.
I am very, very, very lucky.
I know what I’m going to do with my luck.
What are you going to do with yours?
Thank you.