— Pema Chodron from When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times

Today marks the ninth anniversary of the Syrian revolution — the nonviolent uprising by ordinary citizens who took to the streets of their towns and cities calling for freedom, dignity, and the end of fear and oppression. The brave origin of the revolution is often forgotten in the brutal violence and mass displacement that followed, and which still continues today.

The practice of reflecting on March 15 — on what has happened to our country (and ourselves) — has become a ritual. Each year’s reflection varies in tones of anger and sadness as well as in hope and despair. As I write this year, in the midst of the global COVID-19 pandemic, I’ve been contemplating the concept of resilience and where it comes from.

Syrian filmmaker and revolutionary, Waad al-Kateab, recently attended the Oscars as a nominee for her masterpiece documentary on Aleppo, For Sama. Her stunning dress was embroidered with the Arabic line: “We dared to dream and we will never regret demanding dignity.”

Omar Alshogre, a courageous Syrian refugee who had been detained as a teenager and tortured by the Assad regime for years, has been delivering his account to international courts and governments across the world to demand accountability for the thousands of imprisoned Syrians.

Waad, Omar, and so many other heroic Syrians represent the voices of those who rose up chanting on March 15, 2011 for freedom from Assad’s tyranny. They represent the hundreds of thousands of people who lost their lives in this war, the tens of thousands who disappeared, and the millions of refugees and displaced. They represent all of us.

We didn’t know this nine years ago, but in the act of confronting annihilation and despair over and over, Syrians have emerged resilient. And perhaps, in the act of hoping for a better future over and over again, we remain vulnerable. This is the essence of being human.

I see this firsthand in the inspiring young Syrians at our Karam Houses in Turkey. These teenagers defy the expectations and limitations of the word “refugee.” Instead, they’re determined to reach their full potential as people who have so much to offer the world in their brilliance and ingenuity.

Over the next weeks, many of us will be focused on the COVID-19 pandemic. You will do all you can to help yourselves and your loved ones. However, please also reach out to the most vulnerable in your communities: the elderly, the refugees, and the marginalized. Be a part of building communal resilience. And don’t forget about Syrians just because our stories are no longer in the newspapers.

Battling a virus is very similar to fighting against a dictator. We have survived unimaginable loss while still striving to build a future in the midst of uncertainty. Over the past nine years, Syrians have taught me that vulnerable people don’t become resilient alone. We become resilient together.

In solidarity,

Lina

P.S. And we still want freedom. و لسى بدنا حرية