I was born in 1999 in a town called Ain Sifni. As Yazidis, my parents faced hardships navigating their life. Their potential was blocked by a country town in war. In many ways, war is akin to the survival of the strongest. Yazidis are a religious minority in Iraq, so my family was viewed as the weakest. Whatever little strength they mustered went toward fleeing the country.
I was 3 years old when my family and I moved to Norway. I have vague memories of the Kurdish mountainsides, our old concrete house in Ba’adra (a town in Northwest Iraq), and the voices of my relatives. These memories stick with me, as if from a long-forgotten dream. Growing up in Norway, I was given the headroom to dream of a society where I could be not only someone, but anyone I wanted—a dream that wouldn’t have been possible had I never left my hometown.
Years later, in the fateful autumn of 2014, the Islamic State (IS) besieged Sinjar and its neighboring villages. I was 15 years old. At home in Norway, the air felt heavy. My parents were frantically calling relatives, only to hear, “The number you have dialed is currently unavailable.” I watched the news with horror as hundreds of men and women were killed. Families were forced to flee the houses they’ve built from the ground. Thousands of women and young girls were taken from their homes. I felt a deep sense of powerlessness.
The sheer force of the events opened my eyes to the injustices of our world. I made a promise to myself that I would dedicate the next years to a better society, starting slowly but surely.
At school, I became the student body president and got elected to the youth council in the local town of Drammen. In 2015, I was chosen to represent Norway at the United Nations Youth Commission. I was also elected for the Young Ambassadors program in Norway, and later became its leader. During the next few years, I spoke against the injustices of my people to politicians, in the media, and in international conferences.
Looking back, I realize my civic engagement was born out of the promise of never again.
“The promise that never again should someone be discriminated for their religion.”
“The promise that never again should innocent people be killed or sold into slavery.”
“The promise that never again should young people feel powerless in their community.”