Afghan evacuees who feared for their lives after the Taliban takeover of Kabul in 2021 now fear for their lives here in America as federal agents round up suspected undocumented immigrants.
Bibi Bahrami, founder of Afghan Women's and Kids’ Education and Necessities (AWAKEN), understands their anxiety.
At age 19, Bahrami came to the city of Muncie as an evacuee, experiencing starting anew in a foreign country. Through AWAKEN, Bahrami has worked to provide educational, physical and emotional support to Afghans both in the city and country she loves and back in Afghanistan.
But after years of working to protect the Afghan community, she now faces another obstacle: the fear and uncertainty that have come with immigration practices under the Trump administration as Temporary Protected Status (TPS) ends. She said she no longer watches the news “just to be hurting more and crying about it.”
Bahrami said people have played games with the lives of the Afghans, but today she continues to work toward a better future for the Afghan community.
“May God help us and guide us to do better,” she said.
The fall of Kabul and entering the United States
On Aug. 15, 2021, the Taliban—an extremist political and religious Islamist group—reached the gates of Afghanistan’s capital city of Kabul.
They had been out of power for 20 years, "following the U.S.-led invasion that toppled the original regime in 2001," the Council on Foreign Relations summarizes. "By August 2021, the Taliban had swept back into power. Their swift offensive came as the United States withdrew its remaining troops from Afghanistan as outlined in a 2020 peace agreement with the group."
As the Taliban entered the capitol city, tens of thousands of people within the city gates were attempting to flee.
Many went to Hamid Karzai International Airport but needed approval from the U.S. State Department to exit the country. American citizens, those who helped with the war effort and Special Immigrant Visa applicants were among those approved. These individuals were lined up and loaded onto U.S. Air Force planes—sometimes over 400 individuals on planes meant for just 134, seated in rows on the floor with seatbelts stretched across their laps.
Afghan evacuees now living in Central Indiana remember spending days sleeping on the airport floor with their families before being loaded onto planes and taken to a new country. The United States government evacuated tens of thousands of citizens. Over 7,000 temporarily stayed at Camp Atterbury—a military base in Edinburgh now preparing to make the switch from a refuge for Afghan immigrants to a holding center for ICE detainees.
Today, across the country, thousands of Afghans live a life much different than what they faced in Afghanistan, where safety was a privilege.
“I was scared going on the road because you never knew when a bomb blast or a suicide attack was going to happen. So that was my concern every day. But when the Taliban came, that became worse,” Abdul (a pseudonym to protect his identity) said. He’s an Afghan evacuee who lives with his wife and three children in Indiana.
Following the Taliban takeover, he lost his job, and his days consisted of staying home, wondering how he would make a living and support his family. He was also scared for his father’s life—his dad had worked for the U.S. military, a relation that could be deadly. Those who had worked for or had relations with the U.S. government faced the possibility of being kidnapped, tortured and murdered.
“First they killed, then they asked what’s happening,” Bilal (a pseudonym to protect his identity) said about the Taliban. Bilal is another evacuee living in Indiana, and he worked as a driver for the U.S. military in Afghanistan.
One night at around 11 p.m., the Taliban attacked his home. His family escaped and told the police, but there was little the authorities could do other than advise them to hide. They did, for six months. He came to the U.S. with his wife, son and daughter.
But for some, the hardship did not end upon entering the United States.
Abdul’s wife was pregnant when they arrived. As her due date crept closer, they dealt with poor access to nutritious food and sometimes toilets, moving from camp to camp across the country. Bilal remembers wearing the same clothes for weeks.
At Camp Atterbury, Bahrami said conditions were difficult. They lived in dorm-style barracks, and although they had access to food and clothes, the hardship of leaving husbands, wives, children and friends behind and the lasting effects of traumatic experiences worsened the conditions.
“People didn’t know what to do,” Bahrami said. “Some wanted to go back to Afghanistan.”
Others wanted to start working as soon as possible so that they could provide financial support for their loved ones back home.
Abdul chose to sign a paper for independent departure from the evacuee camps—meaning the government was not responsible for their housing or ability to find work. Abdul said it was not a good decision, but at the moment, all he wanted was to escape the camps. He and his family’s situation worsened while they tried to survive in California without any governmental support before coming to Indiana.
Meanwhile, Bahrami, knowing the difficult conditions for Afghan evacuees, created the temporary Muncie Afghan Refugee Resettlement Committee (MARRC) through AWAKEN to help Afghans find a permanent home in Indiana.
“I had no life that one whole year,” she said as she worked to help her “new neighbors.”
Today, Abdul works over 14 hours a day, but he said every hour is worth it because he has a stable home and job. His wife can visit the grocery store, drive and work. They both miss the families they still have in Afghanistan but love being in America.
“I’m not scared of anything happening, like somebody is going to shoot me on the street, or a bomb blast. … I have peace of mind in the community, in my home,” Abdul said.
One of the most important privileges that comes with living in the United States is the ability for his daughter to receive equal access to education and the same opportunities as his sons, Abdul said.
Bilal is proud to say he has never gotten a speeding ticket during his three years living in America. His days consist of taking his son and daughter to school, then spending nine to 10 hours working at Toyota.
Muncie now supports a community of Afghan evacuees—many of whom are thriving.
“The history of this country was built by immigrants. … It has continued to be a big part of our country’s success with immigrants. I can personally see right here in our Muncie small community how many businesses are grateful to have these immigrants,” Bahrami said.
But despite the very American lives they live, a lot of evacuees are not U.S. citizens. Koubra Bandawal, president and founder of Indiana Refugee Resource Connection, an organization that provides long-term support for evacuees, said the majority of her clients are nowhere close to receiving citizenship. In fact, after nine years of living in the country, one client just recently received status as a U.S. citizen.
The legal side of being an evacuee
There are numerous ways that someone can enter the United States legally while not being a U.S. citizen. However, the wave of Afghan evacuees that entered following the fall of Kabul was a unique situation because they were paroled into the country.
Parole means the government can decide on an individual basis who can enter based on urgent humanitarian reasons or public benefit. Once the purpose of the parole has been served, the person typically returns to the area from which they were paroled, and in order to return to the United States, they will have to go through the traditional admission process.
This practice usually only involves one person, not the thousands who entered the United States after the Taliban takeover. Many (but not all) of these individuals were paroled. Chase Davis, director of Immigration Legal Services with Catholic Charities Indianapolis, said in this way, the situation for this group of Afghan evacuees is unique.
“The urgent and chaotic environment of the evacuation persisted into the legal environment surrounding the cases after arrival in the U.S.,” Davis said. Things were done quickly with little organization because there was little time. Once people came into the country, it was difficult to determine what to do next.
After entering the United States, Afghan evacuees could apply for asylum, protection for someone whose safety is seriously at risk in their home country, or for a Special Immigrant Visa (SIV), a program specifically made by Congress a few years ago that allowed Afghan and Iraqi citizens who assisted the U.S. military to immigrate into the country and become permanent residents.
Temporary Protected Status (TPS) was a benefit that Afghan evacuees could (and many did) apply for. TPS can be granted by the secretary of homeland security when conditions in an evacuee/immigrant’s country prevent them from returning safely. This can be granted to people who are already in the country—such as the 2021 Afghan evacuees.
“There were procedures in place to apply for Special Immigrant Visas or to be admitted with refugee status prior to entering the country, but during the evacuation effort, there was no time or logistical capacity to allow for such processing,” Davis said.
This group of Afghan evacuees came in with a parole lasting one to two years, meaning they would have temporary status in the country for that time period, Davis said. There were no promises of green cards or citizenship; rather, they would be responsible for finding their own pathways to continue living legally in the country and obtaining a permanent status.
That being said, the United States government did allow for many Afghans to be re-paroled. This means that when their parole ended in 2023, many were re-paroled and given another two years, extending to 2025. However, there is no other round of re-parole for those Afghans.
Some Afghans may have been flown from Afghanistan to countries like Mexico or Nicaragua, from which they entered the U.S. illegally across the southern border, Davis said. In this situation, these individuals got there through their own private means without government assistance.
In those instances, those Afghans may have to appear in immigration court.
Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) changes
A major change to immigration practices is the Trump administration using existing laws in “inappropriate ways” to “crack down” on immigration within the country, said Chris Daley, who served as executive director of the American Civil Liberties Union of Indiana for two years, leaving that post this past September.
For example, it’s not traditional practice to arrest immigrants in certain locations such as schools, houses of worship or courthouses unless they pose a threat to those around them, Daley said. Today, the Trump Administration is allowing Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) deportation officers to make arrests in schools, medical institutions, churches and courthouses.
Deportation officers have also detained immigrants when they attend their regularly scheduled immigration appointments or check-ins. Daley said the fear of being arrested has prevented people from attending these appointments.
“Just people who are going through the process, living their lives, trying to be good participants in the process—that was used as a way to detain them,” he said.
International students have had their statuses revoked. The U.S. government is now requiring some student visa applicants to have their social media checked for “hostilities” against the U.S. and its government. Detainees have found themselves confined in local jails or deported from the United States entirely to countries other than their own.
Daley said the immigrants who seem to be most targeted and at risk of being detained include immigrants who have participated in political activity against the government or who have written or said things criticizing the administration. But Daley said ICE has also gone after ordinary, law-abiding “soccer moms” and “dads who have two jobs.”
He says race plays a role as well.
“There’s no doubt in anyone's mind that folks of color, Black and brown immigrants in particular, are most at risk,” Daley said.
These include immigrants from Central and South America, Africa, and the Middle East—including countries like Afghanistan.
What does this mean for Afghan evacuees?
For Afghans who have not received another type of status, their parole is now expiring—including those who make their home in Muncie.
“Those Afghans who have not applied for or obtained a permanent status, and are now without parole or TPS, risk being placed in Immigration Court proceedings where they could eventually be ordered removed from the country,” Davis said.
The Trump administration revoked TPS for the Afghans who have come into the U.S. If an evacuee’s TPS has expired, they could also be at risk of being deported. In April, Newsweek reported that the Trump administration was calling for Afghan evacuees to “self-deport” as TPS was terminated.
Thus far, Bahrami says none of her clients in Muncie have been detained or deported. For those who are at risk of this, Davis said, “typically someone would be given an opportunity to appear in immigration court and argue their case, but this is an area where seeking out legal advice specific to an individual’s situation is paramount.”
The result could be the decision of a removal or change of status depending on the situation.
There were no confirmed deportations of 2021's Afghan evacuees that the TheStatehouseFile.com could find, but Bandawal said she knows some who were detained because they did not follow through on gaining the proper documentation status after moving to other states.
Davis said there may be that “small and unfortunate group of people” over the years who have “slipped through the cracks” and did not obtain legal status—those who don’t know their parole or TPS has expired or those who failed to follow through on their documentation. It’s these people who may be vulnerable to deportation.
ICE did not respond to TheStatehouseFile.com’s request for comment.
How have people slipped through the cracks?
The suddenness and size of this mass migration into the United States meant that the information and legal access that Afghans were given varied on an individual scale, Davis said. Some were given good, accurate advice in a language they were able to understand, “others may have been counseled by non-lawyers or under-resourced attorneys who were simply doing the best they could. In the worst case, they could have received advice from someone eager to make a quick buck amidst the chaos.”
Even if what they signed was for the best possible outcome, not understanding their status could affect their awareness of the next steps they need to take. There was and still is a significant language barrier, Bandawal said, as well as a lack of formal education and cultural awareness when it comes to this group of Afghans.
She said most of Indiana Refugee Resource Connection’s clients do not speak English or have the time or luxury to learn it or the legal processes while they work two or three jobs.
For female Afghan evacuees, the education gap is even worse, Bahrami said. The likelihood that they can read or write or have a formal education is even less than their male counterparts.
“It’d be like if somebody was explaining something to you and I that just we never have heard of or could have ever possibly imagined before somebody was telling it to us,” Davis said about explaining immigration law to this group of Afghans. Many of them do not even understand the concept of having an attorney. This is a barrier now and was years ago when they first arrived in the country.
Immigration law is difficult enough for a U.S.-born and educated citizen to understand. Additionally, each case is a little different and no one pathway to citizenship applies to everyone, Davis said. It can be hard for an Afghan to understand why their situation is different from their neighbors’ who arrived in the country the same way. This combined with limited or no understanding of the English language has created further challenges for Afghans and those trying to help them.
This has left nonprofits like Catholic Charities Indianapolis or Exodus Refugee Immigration to provide legal assistance for the many Afghans who need guidance on how to ensure legal status but can't afford an attorney. There have been too many evacuees for these legal services alone to support, Davis said. Those who do not have the resources they need to gain permanent status could be at risk today.
AP News reported back in January on the Trump administration’s suspension of the U.S. Refugee Admissions Program. Afghan evacuees living in Pakistan who had plans to immigrate to the United States were no longer able to.
Bandawal said she is concerned that Afghans who are detained and do not have their paperwork will face difficulty in asking for an interpreter or for a phone call home to get their paperwork.
Fear and anxiety take a toll
Stories about kidnappings off the street by ICE have popped up across social media platforms like TikTok.
“It’s hard to match a short video clip with meaningful context,” Davis said. “I don't blame anybody for being afraid when things are scary. But there is, like, ... a constant battle against misinformation ...
“There's a lot of fear mongering going on, and that's terrible, and it's sad and unfortunate.”
He said that although the outcome could be removal, you would first have to appear in immigration court and, in typical cases, would not be instantly deported. But regardless of the likelihood of an Afghan evacuee being deported, the fear and anxiety alone have taken a toll on the Afghan community, Bahrami said.
“These families are working hard,” she said. “They've been here for four years, they work three jobs and they are excited, … and now they’re scared. … The fear has been rough on them.”
She said that these are people who grew up only knowing war and how to shoot a gun, people who have watched their family members die and who came to the United States hoping for a better life and the opportunity to educate their children. Bahrami said that they are excited for these opportunities. Now, however, they face depression, anxiety and fear on top of the trauma they still carry from home.
“We chose this country by choice, and I was proud of it, to be a citizen and my country being respected. The way I see the disrespect now, it hurts me personally. And I'm sure it hurts other citizens of this beautiful country,” she said.
Abdul has told his wife not to open the door for anyone and to immediately call him if the police ever come to their home. Every time he sees a police car, he says he becomes alert, fearing it could be ICE deportation officers.
“If ICE is going to get me, they don’t care about my family. They don’t care if I have a wife or kids over here,” he said.
Already, he said, he has thought about making arrangements for what to do in the event of deportation, such as finding someone to sell his car or house so that his family will have money.
Bandawal said her clients have stopped socializing and having large gatherings to avoid attention and are extra cautious when driving so that they don’t get pulled over.
The fear of going back to Afghanistan
Bilal said if you ask his 9-year-old daughter about going back to Afghanistan, she responds that she would rather be killed here in America.
“She knows if I go to Afghanistan, my life is gone. Nothing. Finished. Because no school, no doctors, no food, no work, no job, nothing,” Bilal said.
The things Bilal’s daughter sees on social media concerning ICE urge her to ask him questions about what is happening—questions he often cannot answer.
“It’s like someone broke your heart,” he said. “You know, sometimes I’m so mad for her because she wants to go to school, she wants to make a future.”
For Abdul, he said his life would be in danger and possibly targeted by the Taliban due to his relationship with the United States. He could be put in a detention center. The stable job he has and the education available for his daughter would no longer exist.
He said his wife loves being in the United States 100 times more than himself because of the rights she has. He said he joked with her about what she would do if he got deported—would she join him in Afghanistan? Her response was a flat no, she would find a way to get him back but she would never go back to Afghanistan.
Bahrami said the Afghan women she knows, including herself, are incredibly happy to be in America. They have tea together, meet in the park and talk together. Some of them, like Abdul’s wife, are working and sending money back to their families in Afghanistan.
She said girls in that country are not allowed to go to school past the sixth grade and only a few are able to work under certain conditions.
Women in Afghanistan cannot travel or use public transportation without the accompaniment of a male. Their ability to work is heavily restricted as is what they can wear.
“This will be like a torture for them and, in my opinion, will be tough,” Bahrami said.
What can be done?
“If ICE comes knocking at your door, you are under no obligation to talk to them or cooperate with them. There are circumstances when law enforcement is permitted to enter dwellings and/or arrest people, but there is never an obligation for you to allow them inside. You don’t have to talk to anyone,” Davis said. It is illegal for them to enter your house without a warrant.
“I encourage everyone, be it affected individuals or their allies in the community, to seek out individual and thorough legal advice. There is much nuance in immigration law and procedure, and no two cases are the same. There are a lot of talented professionals in our local community who have worked and will continue to work to provide legal services to this community. Seek them out.
"We’re living through difficult and unprecedented times, but we’re doing it together," he continued. "Despite the seemingly chaotic atmosphere, there is a legal system at its core, and there are people who are skilled at working within it. You’re not alone.”
When out in public, Bandawal advises her clients to keep their paperwork with them at all times.
“If you are in public, on the street, or operating a vehicle and get pulled over, you have fewer protections than in your home and may have a legal obligation to identify yourself. Your right to remain silent is always there, but if you’re stopped for an alleged infraction or violation, you risk running afoul of Indiana law that creates a Class C misdemeanor criminal charge for failing to identify,” Davis said. “If you have questions or concerns about how this may apply to you, you should seek out legal advice.”
It’s important to note that even if you are not a United States citizen, you still have First Amendment rights.
For those who are not immigrants and are not at risk of being detained or deported by ICE, Daley said it’s important to make your voice heard if you disagree with what's happening—attending safe protests, reaching out to lawmakers, writing letters to the administration, supporting and acting on your right to vote by preparing for the midterm elections, or volunteering with voting organizations.
And he had a message for Indiana's Afghan evacuees.
“I speak for a lot of Hoosiers when I say I’m sorry that you and your family are having to live in fear right now. That there are millions of Hoosiers who support you and appreciate the contributions that you make to our economic and community wellbeing every day that you’re here. And that we are going to continue to work to make sure that we’re able to protect you and your families until we’re able to reverse course on federal policy in this country,” he said.
Bahrami said she sees the depression all this is causing in the Afghan community in Muncie. She tells them to stay busy—it helped distract her when she first arrived in the country. But even for her, the situation is tough. She goes to sleep hoping and praying for a better tomorrow, but sometimes that can be difficult. Many evacuees feel the same.
“Sometimes I cannot sleep thinking about this," Abdul said. "What if I’m not going to become a citizen here? What if I get deported? ... It’s like putting me in some sort of depression… What if I’m not able to get a green card?
"This has put me in a bad position.”