Unsettled - Anne and Peter’s story

Photo courtesy of freepik.com

This is a story that was shared with us at Refugee Story Project and they asked for it to be shared anonymously. For the safety and privacy of our courageous friends, we have changed the names of the husband to Peter and his wife who wrote the story for us to Anne. Thank you both for helping us raise awareness through your story! Thank you for helping give a voice to what is happening currently, and for showing us how to hold onto love and hope even in hard times.

Anne and Peter’s story written by Anne:

Born in a town nestled in a stretch of the Zagros Mountain Range in Western Iran, my husband, Peter, tells me of the days leading up to his birth. The sound of air raids blasted so loudly through the town that it nearly sent his mother into premature labor, her unborn son somersaulting in her womb.

Peter was born in 1986 in the middle of the Iran-Iraq War. The tumult in which he came into the world would set the stage for the unrest that would follow him well into his adult years. After the unexpected passing of his father less than four years after Peter's birth, his mother eventually moved her sons to the capital city of Tehran for better opportunities.

There, Peter grew up, attending a private English school in addition to his high school classes. When he was not studying, he focused on training in Full Contact Karate, earning his black belt at 18. After graduation, he got his bachelor's degree in English Literature at a local university and began working as an English teacher.

After seeing Jesus in a dream, Peter converted to Christianity. Because Christianity is illegal and a punishable offense in Iran, he had to practice his faith covertly, attending underground churches and hosting secret prayer services in his home.

When word got out that his pastor had been arrested and imprisoned, Peter made plans to flee Iran. There was damning evidence proving his connection to the pastor, which put Peter and his family in danger. So in 2013, he boarded a plane to Turkey, where he became a refugee.

Photo courtesy of freepik.com

A year later, I boarded a plane from the United States to Turkey, where I planned to spend a few years teaching. I had a background in education and thought it would be fun to use overseas. Through mutual friends (and his mother's encouragement), I met Peter, and we began dating. In 2016, we became engaged.

Peter had been given the United States as his resettlement country and completed the numerous required security interviews, background checks, and biometrics. We were confident The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) would likely allow him to resettle in the U.S. that following year. We were excited to begin planning our wedding in my home country among my family and friends and assumed he would receive plane tickets out of Turkey soon.

But then there was an administration change, and a new president was elected—one who touted staunch anti-immigration beliefs and was not afraid to put them into action. In early 2017, a series of controversial executive orders banned seven countries from entering the U.S., Iran included. Our dreams of a wedding in my home country came to a screeching halt.

So we got married in Turkey, home to neither of us. Family and friends flew in across oceans to celebrate. We pivoted our dreams for the time being while still hoping things would continue to move forward. But the ban was set, and our hands were tied. There was nothing we could do but wait—for three years.

One day in early 2020, in the second trimester of my pregnancy, Peter received word that the UNHCR had officially withdrawn his refugee resettlement case. We would come to find out that the withdrawal was because he was married to me, a U.S. citizen, giving him another path to the U.S.

The news was devastating. It felt like my home country had betrayed us. We had waited for three years with no movement in my husband's immigration case, trusting it would eventually move forward, only to discover that this avenue was no longer an option. And so, taking the advice of immigration officials, we scrambled together the endless documents, evidence, and money needed to file for a U.S. spousal visa.

Throughout this time, Peter was still considered a refugee in Turkey. Having refugee status meant he did not have legal work permission and no legitimate way to earn money to support our growing family. In addition to his refugee status, he was also of a minority religion. Both identities made him an easy target for discrimination.

We gave birth to our daughter in the summer of 2020 in Turkey, well into the first wave of the COVID-19 pandemic. Unlike our wedding, my family could not be there for the birth. Uncertainty abounded not only in our own lives but across the globe.

By the time fall came around that year, amidst lockdowns, ever-changing pandemic protocols, and rising COVID case reports, Peter attended his security interview at the U.S. embassy in Ankara, the capital city. The officer listened to his story but, in the end, deemed Peter ineligible for a visa under a section in the Immigration and Nationality Act—terrorism.

In Iran, all men ages 18 and above must join the military. Service is mandatory, and the government decides which branch conscripts serve. Soldiers have no choice in the matter.

After graduating from university, Peter began his military service. His education earned him a higher rank with less demanding tasks. He spent his time landscaping, cleaning, and making tea for his commanders. During his service, Peter never participated in handling firearms, never experienced combat, nor was privy to classified information.

In 2019, the branch Peter served nearly a decade before was put on a terrorism list by the sitting U.S. president. Any man who had served under that specific branch, regardless of having no choice or how long ago they served, was and is deemed ineligible from entering the U.S.

Words cannot describe how it feels to have your husband be branded a terrorist after watching him jump through every hoop required, knowing he did everything he was supposed to do. Words cannot describe how it feels to see your husband, a kind and loving partner, a gracious and involved father, a faithful and humble follower of Jesus, forced to carry the word 'terrorist' over his head.

At this time, there is no waiver for visa reconsideration. Peter and hundreds of men like him are still barred from entering the U.S. through no fault of their own. Many are indefinitely separated from wives and children.

My family is still waiting to build our lives together outside of Turkey in a place that offers safety, stability, and refuge. And while we have bumped up against barrier after barrier, we continue to trust the pieces will come together eventually, and doors will open.