There's a narrative we can't escape: Those poor Syrian families over there. We watch the news coverage and feel sad--for a moment. Then we go back to our everyday lives. That moment of sadness has passed. But that sympathy is only on a macro-scale; we don't take each individual life seriously. After all, they're in the Middle East. We feel bad that people are dying, but we don't consider their lives equivalent to our own. It's not intentional, but it's so easy to look away.
We can't bring them here. Their way of life isn't like ours. They might be terrorists.
Few who say things like this have ever met a refugee. We wanted to tell a surprising story of human dignity in the present--one that could be about your family--rather than one of past horror and pitiable circumstances. It's true that the Obidat family saw family members killed, suffered displacement multiple times and continues to deal with the emotional and financial stress of a cancer diagnosis in the family. But since finally reaching Chicago in 2015, Mohammad, Asmaa, Retaj and Akram have made a new life for themselves and have found joy and stability again. Through this film, we hope to bridge the gap people see between themselves and refugees, both near and distant.
As student filmmakers, we brought unbridled enthusiasm but limited experience to this project. Colleen was largely self-taught and had shot two short documentaries on her own while studying in Morocco and Tunisia. Alex was (and still is) an overcommitted, dogged and talented journalism student. The Obidat family are the warmest, kindest, most resilient people we know. We met them when Colleen volunteered with their upstairs neighbors, also Syrian refugees, teaching them English through the Syrian Community Network. The Obidats were gracious enough to welcome us into their lives, invite us to family barbecues and, eventually, let us tell their story. Although their histories vary dramatically from our own, there is little that separates us.
Still, we cannot forget the loneliness and isolation that comes with being a refugee. The Obidats grapple daily with the fear that they may not make ends meet. They are so deserving of comfort and peace of mind. But they don't wait for it to be bestowed upon them. Instead, they create it.
We hope this film inspires Americans to welcome refugees--and not just the ones with cute, photogenic kids--into their communities, on the basis that every human has a right to seek and find safety. This family is flourishing in part because their community has pitched in to provide resources and relationships that pick up where meager resettlement provisions end. Fundraising, donations, sponsorship of dance and music classes, passing job opportunities through word-of-mouth and volunteers for language instruction have provided stepping stones to full independence.
Though they could have folded, bent and broken under the circumstances of their life, the Obidats embraced every opportunity and pushed forward. Their new life in Chicago expands before them, as they jettison fear and doubt and reach for the future.
Justice and peace aren't zero-sum games. A collective insistence that we care for the most vulnerable in our world (who are by no means the weakest) can only enrich all.
— Colleen Cassingham and Alex Lederman