The Atlanta Kurds: Unity in Diversity
ATLANTA, United States - When he arrived in Jonesboro in the US state of Georgia at age 12, Zheer Alan did not know any English. He went from being a straight-A student in his hometown of Sulaimani to the bottom of the class. Though it was also initially hard for him to make friends, he learned that there could be common ground through other activities, such as sports.
Now a pharmacist, Dr. Alan recalls: “I was a goalie during recess, just like back home, and I realized there was (some) sense of continuity and sameness, and began to normalize my role here.”
Since Alan has spent the majority of his life outside of his place of birth, there is a constant push-and-pull of cultures and identities. Yet, he is confident he balances both simultaneously. “I do belong in both worlds; I am able to remain Kurdish but American as well,” he affirms.
Like many young people, he began to “dig into Kurdish identity” in college, along with his older brother and his younger cousin. As a result, the trio initiated the fledgling Kurdish community on the campus of Georgia State University (GSU). One of the main reasons for founding the organization was that, before this, area Kurds had celebrated events and holidays only among themselves. The Kurdish Youth Club (KYC) changed this dynamic.
Almost immediately even other young Kurds, otherwise unaffiliated with GSU, helped form the KYC. It was a true grassroots endeavor: They kicked off with the first community-wide Newroz, celebrated on the GSU campus in 2003, which hosted 400 people! This successful event paved the way for increased participation and awareness of the KYC, which became part and parcel of the Kurdish community and eventually transformed into the current Kurdish Cultural Center (KCC).
For Dr. Alan, his main focus for the community is advocating for higher education. “Not only would this create a better life for that individual but it would help create a better person, and this would lead to a better society and environment,” he explains.
Somewhat controversially, he believes that a way to build up the Atlanta community is to foster more of a relationship between the KCC and the Kurdistan Regional Government (KRG) representatives in Washington, though the bylaws of the KCC stipulate that it is a non-political and non-religious organization, while still remaining inclusive of all Kurds, regardless of political and religious beliefs.
“The strength of this community rests in the fact that we have never been exclusive, and (are) also open to non-Kurds. There is no membership required, and we all work together to maintain and provide for the community,” he explains.
‘Winning’ the Green Card Lottery'
Current acting president of the KCC, Baran Ahmed, feels a strong kinship with all Kurds, perhaps because it was only in the US that he was fully able to learn about his history and culture.
He relates: “I have no real formal education; my family was poor and assimilated and I went to work before joining the Turkish army. I came to the US in 1990 after ‘winning’ the Green Card lottery... (and my family) moved in 1994. There was no community to speak of then. But in 1996 many Iraqi Kurds were resettled here and I sought them out and it was only then that myself and a few others started putting our heads together to form a stronger community.”
As Mr. Ahmed elucidates, the overarching goal behind the KCC is to simply unite area Kurds, regardless of any political or religious differences.
Ahmed concedes that the KCC tends to attract more Sorani-speaking Kurds from Iraqi Kurdistan than others. But he explains: “Our main objective among the communities’ members is to support education for the many children that make up the community here through scholarships, and finding and using other resources to help them.”
One of the ways Mr. Ahmed is able to strengthen the community is by welcoming new families, like that of Sharif Enc.
Remembering Roboski
Sharif Mehmet Enc was living in Chattanooga, in the state of Tennessee, but moved to Atlanta last year. When asked why he chose Atlanta over Nashville, he replies: “Though I was two hours from the largest Kurdish community in the US there are no Kurds from North (Turkish) Kurdistan, and I knew this was going to be a more inclusive and welcoming environment and community.”
Mr. Enc’s village has received a tremendous amount of international attention. Hailing from the village of Roboski (Uludere), he is extremely familiar with the infamous incident known as the “Uludere massacre,” in which 34 civilians suspected of being militants of the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) were killed by Turkish airstrikes in December 2011.
Speaking about the incident, the 39-year-old father explains through an interpreter: “Civilians were smuggling because they were trying to make ends meet for themselves and their families.” He adds: “The PKK never used this area and the Turkish government and military was aware of this.
“I myself crossed this same path hundreds of times without incident, and sometimes all we had to do was pay off soldiers minding the borders. This killing was intentional; they knew these people were not PKK, and one of my cousins died in this massacre.”
‘We All Have a Voice’
Like in all communities, many Kurds remember the struggles from back home and are determined to make a difference in their new environment. One of the young leaders of the KCC is Kocher Arslan, from Tetwan, North Kurdistan.
Kocher sits on the board of the KCC and previously taught Kurmanji classes as well. He is studying full-time to be an industrial engineer at one of the most prestigious universities in the country. When he first came to the US in 2006, he was encouraged by a friend to come to Atlanta and help strengthen the fledgling Kurdish community. For Arslan, being active in Kurdish activities was normal, since his family was involved in Kurdish issues.
Arslan attended university in Ankara, and in 2004 participated in a campaign to petition the government to grant Kurds the right to speak in their mother tongue freely. As a result, some students were summarily expelled and he himself was investigated by the university.
Being actively involved in the KYC from early on, he and others began talking about the need for an actual center which would help educate the community in a multitude of ways.
Arslan reminisces: “In 2009 we only had around seven people involved. Now we know the community at least consists of around 200 to 250 families, and though not all regularly participate, they know they are all welcome.”
For him, Atlanta is even better than other cities where there are more Kurds, outshining even Nashville. “Atlanta is one of the strongest Kurdish communities despite its small size. We are more unified. We have an inclusive center, whereas others are based around political leanings and/or religion.” In a message particularly geared towards Kurds back home Arslan expresses the following message:
“Our Board of Directors was specifically set up so that we have at least one Kurd representing each part of Kurdistan, so that we all have a voice and are able to influence the community. We are a non-profit community center and cannot let people impose their views, whether political or religious, and are solely funded through our members and donations and no one gets paid for their work. We welcome you all to join us and participate in making our community stronger,” he says, urging Kurds to visit their website, KCCGA.org.
Speaking Out as a Kurd
Unlike Mr. Arslan, Deniz Gumustekin was raised in Malatya, Turkey, and spent her undergraduate and graduate years in the American South. At the University of South Carolina, Deniz, a political science student, had many Turkish friends, as there was no Kurdish community to speak of. However, even after spending years sharing similar experiences, these people are no longer friendly toward her since she moved to Atlanta, became more active in the Kurdish community and began posting perceived pro-Kurdish sentiments over social media. Her former friends began insulting her and calling her a supporter of terrorism.
“Once you speak out as a Kurd you are then labeled.” According to her, only a few Turks are open-minded and because of that there needs to be a change regarding education in Turkey. Because of her past relations with Turks, even in America, she is very cautious about becoming more involved with their organizations and events.
She explains bitterly: “I was getting hurt because of who I am and for my beliefs... why is my family still not comfortable in the country where they were born and why did some classmates not talk to me simply because I am a Kurd?”
Deniz supports the Kurdish community of Atlanta wholeheartedly: “It is great. I have been able to network with likeminded, young Kurds from all over the country because of the connections I have made among the Kurdish community here in Atlanta.” Finding a strong community has made her feel more confident as a Kurd and now she feels more connected to Kurdistan and its peoples.
Looking for a Dentist, Finding a Kurd
When Guler Erol was five years old, her family decided to move from Mus to Istanbul. No one in her family except her father spoke Turkish, and the transition proved extremely difficult. For Guler, her identity may be simplified thusly: “I am Kurd and I do want a free land for my people and will help with that process.”
For her, the way to give back to her community is through psychology, an important subject since Ms. Erol confirms that many Kurdish people of all ages need psychological help, given their difficult experiences. When she is finished with her studies in the States she wants to return to Kurdistan and help communities through psychological assistance.
The Syrian Connection
Perhaps the smallest percentage of those that make up the Kurdish community in Atlanta are those from Syria. Bekas came to the US in 2005, but it was only by accident that he learned of the Kurdish community.
“I was simply looking for a dentist and just for the fun of it I searched for a 'Kurdish speaking' dentist near Atlanta, not really thinking I would find one, but I did,” recalls Bekas, who did not want his full name revealed out of safety concerns for his family back in Syria. “I called his office immediately, and left a message. Thirty minutes later he called me back and we were both so excited to talk to each other!”
Bekas was encouraged to visit Café Istanbul, a local restaurant chain owned by a Kurdish man who hires many Kurds.
This is how Bekas summarizes his personal feelings: “I do not feel Syrian and am not involved in the Syrian community, though I care about Syrian Kurds. I want my children to learn Kurdish and to learn about our culture and history and for them to be well-respected in their community.”
Aleppo-born Dr. Heval Kelli came to the US from Germany as an eleventh grader. He was born in Syria at a time when being a Kurd often led to discrimination, not to mention that it was illegal to hold a Kurdish name. Kelli related how his father paid someone off to have him officially named Heval.
He attended Morehouse Medical school, which is predominately an African-American institution, and relates that he loved the experience. It was a “good environment as it put me out of my element and comfort zone. The community was tremendously supportive of me and the university gave me an opportunity to follow my dream as a doctor.”
A genuine “rags to riches story,” Kelli relates that he first worked at a restaurant across the street from Emory Medical Center, where he now works. He is active in bringing to the KCC what he calls the “Healthy Kurds Initiative,” which would promote awareness to the community regarding healthier diets and providing guidelines and suggestions about staying active and healthy in general.
He also works with a KCC-led program called “Sterk” (star), a mentorship program for Kurdish high school students, and has hosted a seminar where he invited parents and students in order to help prepare them for college. It is the KCC's plan to help provide funds and resources for every Kurdish child to go to college. Dr. Kelli notices particular attention is being paid to higher education.
A Chance Meeting
Though not Syrian, Meriwan Abdullah will always remember how one relationship he made there followed him all the way to the United States.
Abdullah came to the US in 2000, after living and working in Syria for one year. He brought an important piece of paper with a phone number scribbled on it. A man he befriended there gave him his number and told him to look him up in the States if and when he ever got there. This man, Mahdi Jabari, had lived in the US in the 1970s and had gone back-and-forth to Kurdistan. Abdullah met him by chance in Syria.
When Abdullah arrived in the US, he gave the number to one of the Mennonite Christian women who greeted and helped take care of his needs for the first few months. She called the number written on the paper and excitedly exclaimed that it was a local Atlanta number! Abdullah was happy and shocked to find that his friend from Syria only lived 30 minutes away. The two reunited shortly thereafter.
Not long afterward, Abdullah became one of the first to work with the US military, which was training in mock “Iraqi” and “Afghan” villages in Louisiana. Mr. Abdullah recalls that time fondly.
“We were treated very respectfully. But when my father became ill I resigned because I had to visit and take care of him and was only able to do that thanks to the financial assistance of the Kurdish community in Atlanta.”
For Mr. Abdullah, Atlanta is home. “I am comfortable and settled here. I have a good job, a wife, and a supportive community. I am living in Kurdistan from my memory -- my life is here now.”
His biggest contention with the situation in Iraqi Kurdistan is that – in his opinion -- the KRG is not focusing its newfound wealth and power correctly.
They “need to focus more education-related resources,” he says. “It is one thing to build modern universities and schools. But education outside of buildings should be a main focus as well. We need to understand what 'progress' is. If it means tearing down things that are 'old' and building new buildings for its own sake, we should consider those implications.”
Perhaps most unique, Mr. Abdullah asserts that the community in Atlanta is not in fact united: Community members often recreate the differences which existed back home, bringing them here. He also emphasizes that Kurds should look toward the future and need to learn from their mistakes and should seek to share their experiences with others in different communities. For Abdullah, it is a terrible mistake to remain in the past:
“Our children have none of those memories that the older generation does. I was a Peshmarga, not for any party but for Kurdistan. I started creating a piece of art representing Kurdistan. I have not finished it yet, because it will take a lifetime to complete. I don’t know if I will ever finish it.”
The Model for Other Kurds
Compared to larger communities in the United States, Atlanta may not have the numbers, nor even similar available resources. The community makes up for this in many other ways, however. The fact that they consciously chose to have Kurds represented from all parts of Kurdistan on their board, promote a strong and active role for women and youth and guarantee the center remains non-partisan and religiously pluralistic, gives the community strength that does not exist elsewhere.