°®Âţµş

Afghan refugees America
6 min read
Washington, D.C.
09 March, 2022

As Afghans search for permanent housing in the US, often after a long and difficult journey from a hasty evacuation at the Kabul airport in August, to staying months for processing at a US military base, to living day to day at a motel while looking for a rental, they are sharing a common obstacle with millions of low-income Americans: the country’s lack of affordable housing.

"Most Afghans are gravitating to areas already populated by members of their community – the Washington, DC area and California – where housing prices are among the highest in the country"

This already-prevalent problem of unaffordable housing in the US is compounded for Afghan refugees, who typically lack the credit history to secure a lease, whose immediate families tend to be relatively large, and whose incomes are often too low to afford housing that would meet their needs.

In addition, most Afghans are gravitating to areas already populated by members of their community – the Washington, DC area and California – where housing prices are among the highest in the country.

Still waiting to start their new lives

For Gawhar Khan Saeedi, who has been living at a motel with his family in Orange County in southern California since January, it is difficult to see an end in sight.

“The first thing I think about every morning is not having a job or a home,” he tells °®Âţµş by phone from a hotel room in Orange County, where he has been staying since he arrived from Fort McCoy in Wisconsin as he was told there would be more opportunities in California.

With his family of nine here in the US, he would be required to rent at least a three-bedroom apartment. So far, without a job or a credit history, it has been a challenge. For now, he’s grateful for his monthly benefits that allows him and his family to have the basics.

“I can’t say if I’m happy or not. I haven’t started my life here [in California] yet. Then I’ll see if it was a good decision,” he says.

Afghan families in US
Gawhar Khan Saeedi has been living at a motel with his family in Orange County

Down the hall is Mir Safi, who has a green card and a credit history, but is still finding it a challenge to find work and housing.

With his newly arrived wife pregnant, and no extended family nearby to help him take care of her and their small children, his outings to find work and housing are limited.

“If I was in Afghanistan, I would have help from my family there,” he says. “The big challenge here is having to do everything myself.”

No affordable housing for anyone

On the other side of the country, in upstate New York, Ellen Smith, executive director of Keeping Our Promise, which helps resettle US military-affiliated refugees, tells °®ÂţµşĚýthat the Rochester area, where her organisation is based, used to be great for affordable housing. In recent years, she says, corporations and investors have bought up apartment buildings and have continuously raised the rents, making traditionally affordable communities like hers join the ranks of the out-of-reach locations.

“One of the reasons I started working in this wartime ally resettlement programme in Rochester is that unlike many other places in the US, up until a year ago there was affordable housing, and we could get affordable apartments for our families,” she says, noting that a family of three could use their assistance money to pay rent. She says that a year ago, an apartment that went for $800 now goes for more than $1,000.

“That’s what I find really sad. You can’t get around this. It makes you realise how poor people stay poor... It’s looking bleak, not just for refugees, but also for low-income Americans”

“These rents don’t exist anymore. One thing we’ve seen in Rochester is groups of people buying buildings when they come on the market. The problem now is we’re subsidising families’ rents. I didn’t mind subsidising $60 a month to help them get on their feet, but now we’re looking at $200 to $300 a month. That’s just not sustainable.”

She says one of their families has their lease up for renewal in June, and they’ll have to make a decision by mid-March on whether or not to renew it at the higher price. In one instance, she knew a refugee family that ended up in a local homeless shelter.

“That’s what I find really sad. You can’t get around this. It makes you realise how poor people stay poor,” she says. “It’s looking bleak, not just for refugees, but also for low-income Americans.”

Afghan families in US
Mir Safi, who has a green card and a credit history, is still finding it a challenge to find work and housing

In fact, the entire country’s rental market has become unaffordable for anyone making low wages.

According to a 2021 report called Out of Reach by the National Low Income Housing coalition, in 99 percent of the US, a two-bedroom rental is unobtainable for someone making minimum wage.

This means that even once these refugees do find work, usually minimum wage to start with, the housing market is beyond their reach. Landlords typically require the tenant to show proof of earning three times the monthly amount of rent, meaning they would need to earn $4,500 a month to qualify for a $1,500 a month apartment, which would be out of reach on benefits or on minimum wage.

Perspectives

Caught in a backlogged system

Adding to their challenge of being refugees in an already-competitive housing market is the unusual speed and volume with which Afghan refugees arrived in August.

“What normally happens with resettlement, in years past, is people would wait their turn, then they’d get their family name drawn, so the resettlement agency would be handling one to two cases a week. You’d have a small number of people coming, and you could help them find housing,” Owaiz Dadabhoy, president of the refugee resettlement agency Uplift, tells °®Âţµş.

“With this, many are on bases, and they’re coming all at once. Now, we’re trying to catch up and trying to find them housing all at the same time,” he says. “I think it comes down to a lot of people at the same time. It creates a backlog.”

Adding to their volume is their legal status. Masih Fouladi, executive deputy director of the Council on American-Islamic Relations-Greater Los Angeles, who works with Afghan refugees, notes that around 60 to 70 percent of Afghans came in as humanitarian parolees, meaning they don’t have the permanent status of those who arrived through the traditional route.

“They only have a few months to apply for asylum, and they’re trying to adjust their status. They have to explain why they didn’t meet the one-year deadline,” he tells °®Âţµş. “It’s going under the radar.”

Brooke Anderson is °®Âţµş's correspondent in Washington DC, covering US and international politics, business and culture

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