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I’ve set my New Year’s resolution, and it’s a significant one. I plan to travel back to my homeland, Syria, a place I haven’t seen since I was forced to leave eight years ago. As a journalist who spent years reporting on the brutal cost of the Assad regime’s disregard for human life and dignity, returning to Syria was never an option as long as they held power.
However, in a surprising twist last weekend, it was Bashar al-Assad who scrambled to escape under the cloak of night, leaving the country’s fate—and that of its people, including those who fought to maintain his rule—in the hands of the advancing rebel forces. His defeat marks the end of one of history’s most oppressive dictatorships, vividly illustrated by haunting footage from prisons now under rebel control. For millions of exiled and displaced Syrians around the globe, this means the possibility of finally returning home.
The rebels’ 11-day offensive concluded over 50 years of Assad’s rule just as I embarked on a trip to Rome. There, I reconnected with a childhood friend of Syrian-Kurdish descent. Our time together wasn’t filled with admiring art or indulging in local cuisine; instead, we spent sleepless nights contacting family and friends and witnessing the mighty regime fall on live television.
Late into Saturday night, around 20 friends and relatives joined us on calls. We laughed, cried, and began making plans for joyful reunions in Aleppo and Damascus. My mother became emotional as she greeted friends on other screens—people she had watched grow up with me, now reunited after war scattered us across the globe. A Christian friend on one call asked to speak with an Alawite friend on another, both chuckling about how the Assad regime had fueled sectarian tensions for decades to maintain control.
The TV in front of us showcased split images: clips of detainees leaving the infamous Saydnaya prison on one side, and scenes of rebels broadcasting the regime’s downfall from the Syrian broadcast corporation on the other.
In early 2020, I reached France as an asylum seeker, three years after fleeing Syria. My journalistic work, including unapproved reporting for an international news agency, had placed me in severe danger of arrest and persecution. I’ve spent the past several years piecing my life back together, establishing a foundation far from home that offers a semblance of peace and relief.
For four years, I’ve tried to distance myself from past traumas, stepping back from social media, cutting off all news except that which directly impacts my loved ones and me, and letting go of any hope of returning to Syria. The work involving Syria in my life as a journalist came to a halt, and I gradually faded from family and friends’ lives, leading some to think I had forgotten my roots in pursuit of a comfortable European life.
The sorrow I refused to acknowledge, the yearning to look back that I suppressed, all seemed to dissolve until December 8, when my tears joined countless other refugees worldwide who had become lost souls. They were spending precious years struggling for legal recognition, battling racism and discrimination, and dreading the far-right’s threat. Internally displaced Syrians were returning home, and those still living under the regime were finally voicing their thoughts.
In Aleppo, where my family resides, they spoke of a slow death from which they were relatively lucky to have been spared bodily harm or displacement. Yet, the weight of carrying the Assad tyranny was crushing their hopes for a dignified existence.
Every Syrian I’ve spoken to recognizes the daunting challenges that lie ahead. Yet, there’s a collective agreement that only now, with Assad gone, can they truly aim to tackle these obstacles together and have their voices heard.
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