Refugee Reflections on Home, Heritage, & Gratitude
Each November, Thanksgiving is celebrated across the United States as a holiday of welcome, community, and gratitude. Yet beneath the familiar imagery lies a more complicated story: one in which both Indigenous peoples and internationally displaced communities have experienced erasure, loss, and the rewriting of their histories. For many refugees, Thanksgiving can be a time of reflection on not only what has been gained, but also on what had to be left behind.
For those who have lived through forced migration, gratitude is not shallow or naive. It exists alongside grief. It holds memory and mourning in the same breath as hope. The story is not linear - and it is, unfortunately, never as simple as “starting over.”
When asked what truth he wishes people understood about being uprooted, Noor Almusahwi, an Iraqi refugee and peace seeker, reflects on the moment everything changed:
“Nothing can prepare you for the moment of leaving home. Truthfully, you never learn how to leave your home or even think to anticipate that movement. It is impossible—you simply cannot… It is such an unpleasant part of life, one we wish we could forget. But as an adult, I believe it is absolutely imperative to remember that movement, to document it, and to archive it.”
Kateryna Bikir, a Ukrainian psychologist, educator, and coach, echoes that forced displacement is not an organized chapter break, it is rupture:
“With any migration or transition, it takes time to adjust and acculturate to a new country. Forced displacement usually comes with additional challenges and uncertainties. It is not something people had time to prepare and plan. Forcibly displaced people had to leave their life, families, friends, careers behind and rebuild themselves in a new place. Many people perceive refugees as ungrateful. I think [refugees] are in pain and don’t always have the resources to fulfill the expectations of others.”
The myth of Thanksgiving tells a story of welcome, but the lived experience of refugees in America often includes judgment, misunderstanding, and pressure to assimilate quickly while carrying invisible wounds. Many know what it feels like to be grateful for safety and opportunity while simultaneously grieving everything that made them who they were. This ability to hold a myriad of feelings is an integral part of the human experience - it is what makes us multidimensional, capable of critical thinking and expansive emotions.
And yet, within the realities of displacement, people find ways to stay rooted. A memory, a flavor, a prayer, a cultural value, a trinket passed down through generations. Traditions become bridges through space and time that allow the heart to travel home when the body cannot.
Noor finds home not only in taste and ritual, but in the values he brings with him everywhere he goes:
“I brought my family-and-community-oriented Arab values. I brought respect for elders first, and for the young even more. I brought the beautiful teachings of Islam and Middle Eastern culture. I brought my energy and care for all creatures on this earth. I brought long-lasting compassion and an enduring, burning desire for understanding and acceptance. I brought Iraqi kebabs—the best kebabs in the world (just my humble opinion).”
For some, the act of building a new home means shaping new customs around the old ones. Kateryna and her family have woven their Ukrainian heritage into their Thanksgiving celebrations:
“We started to celebrate Thanksgiving Day after we came to the U.S. We usually add some Ukrainian food, decorate the table with Ukrainian traditional tablecloth and other decorative pieces. We give thanks for everything that we have in our life and share our insights on experiences gained during the past year.”
Across cultures and continents, a shared truth emerges: gratitude is not the absence of pain, but rather, it is the choice to keep loving the world despite it. For displaced families, expressing gratitude is a testament to survival, adaptation, and care. It becomes a space to honor memory while welcoming possibility, to acknowledge every loss while still finding reasons to give thanks.
Perhaps this holiday can offer an invitation to all of us: to expand the table, to recognize the ongoing harms of displacement, and to practice gratitude not as a performance, but as a commitment to each other. Because when we listen deeply to the stories of those who have been uprooted, we learn that belonging is granted not only via borders or passports, but also through compassion, generosity, and dedication.
Let’s have this Thanksgiving be a reminder of our shared humanity, and a call to build a world where newcomers are truly welcomed and every person has a place to live, to speak, and to be seen. That is the responsibility we owe to ourselves, our communities, and to every displaced person who sought safety on this land.
