Jordan has long been a magnet for refugees fleeing wars in the surrounding region, hosting millions of Palestinians, Syrians, Iraqis, Yemenis, Sudanese, and Somalis. Many see Jordan as a way station to permanent resettlement in Canada, the United States, or Europe, where the economic opportunities are better. But the bureaucracy of resettlement can stretch on for years, and by the early twenty-tens Jordan had one of the largest per-capita refugee populations on earth. (A tiny fraction of refugees worldwide are ever permanently resettled.) It began to implement policies to curb the influx. Unbeknownst to Hiba, the government had asked U.N.H.C.R. to suspend registering asylum seekers who arrived in Jordan after January 23, 2019. She and her family arrived on January 24th of that year, meaning that they had no viable path to resettlement through the agency. Within months, their visas lapsed. Since then, they have been living without legal status, financial aid, or health insurance.
Ibrahim’s injuries prevent him from working, so Hiba supports the household, often picking up private cleaning jobs from Facebook ads. A recent gig turned out to be a setup; when she arrived to clean the home, two men were waiting for her, and tried to grope and rape her—a common experience for refugee women, according to humanitarian agencies. There’s little incentive to report such incidents, as Jordanian authorities regularly round up and deport people who work without permits.
Black refugees in Jordan have described widespread racially motivated attacks and discrimination. This is true for adults and children alike. Amar, who is nine years old, has been hit and bullied at school; once, a classmate strangled him. Recently, Hiba told me, he was walking to the neighborhood pharmacy when he was attacked and robbed by a group of locals. He screamed and broke free, but Hiba said that, afterward, he started wetting the bed at night and praying that he would die. “Why did God create me Black?” he would ask her. “Is this punishment?”
“I told him to love yourself the way you are,” Hiba said. “I told him that God created us different, that the color Black is very distinguished—it’s very unique and very beautiful.” She went on, “I do my best to maintain his hope.”
In June, 2023, the family received a lifeline. A Sudanese acquaintance in Jordan informed them about an organization that helps refugees resettle in the United States. It was called the International Refugee Assistance Project. Hiba completed IRAP’s online form, and about eight months later, after several interviews, IRAP selected the family’s case for review and referral into the U.S. Refugee Admissions Program. According to lawyers, the family was “at imminent risk of deportation and refoulement to Sudan,” where, Hiba said, they fear “violations or even death” on account of their ethnicity. By then, Sudan had plunged into a civil war between the Sudanese Armed Forces and the Rapid Support Forces, which have both been accused of war crimes against non-Arab communities. (Under President Joe Biden, the U.S. State Department said that the R.S.F. and its allies committed genocide.)
In December, 2024, the International Organization for Migration, a U.N. agency that works with the State Department to process refugee-resettlement cases, called the family for an interview. The vetting process to become a refugee in the U.S. is among the most robust and painstaking immigration procedures in the world. The interview, which covered their family history, claim for refugee status, and biographical information, was meant to be followed by another with U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services, as well as various medical and security screenings and a final orientation about U.S. culture. “I recall being ecstatic that this was going to happen, that I could build a better life,” Hiba said. “We were moving at a very expedited pace.”
Hiba began to sell their belongings. The twins daydreamed about eating Kentucky Fried Chicken and painting their new bedrooms pink and blue. Amar hoped to enter the medical profession. He already liked to produce “medicines,” made with toothpaste and other household items, and read about Thomas Edison and Nikola Tesla. Hiba imagined seeing snow for the first time and living in a cold state, such as Ohio. She wanted to study journalism or become an artist-architect, like Zaha Hadid. She bought a celebratory dress, with gold-flowered embroidery, for the plane ride. She hung it in her wardrobe as a good omen.
