Reshad Sharif has battled impersonal bureaucracies and Taliban soldiers across the world in his struggle to carve out a home.

By Juhi Srivastava

In the summer of 2011, Reshad Sharif found himself sitting on the steps in front of the university registrar’s office in Peshawar, clutching a stack of official documents. His high school diploma had been rejected by the admissions committee on the grounds that Sharif had failed to meet the general requirements. He barely registerd the oppressive afternoon heat, so floored was he by the stinging bureaucratic rejection. As an Afghan refugee in Pakistan, all his achievements required validation. He would have to spend months chasing approvals just to secure a chance at higher education—a recurring imperative to battle barriers invisible to those born with a citizenship. 

Sharif’s life is a constellation of such experiences, moments of hardship that have shaped his search for identity and purpose. Each dot, as he describes the turning points in his life, represents a challenge or a triumph that contributes to his pursuit to belong. From growing up as a refugee in Pakistan, to returning to his country, Afghanistan, and eventually finding himself in America, each phase of his journey reflects his quiet determination to rebuild and redefine what it means to call a place home.

Systematic Exclusion

Born in Pakistan to Afghan refugee parents, Sharif’s early years were marked by the paradox of being physically present in a country but emotionally excluded from its society. Though his childhood was brimmed with laughter, cricket matches, and deep friendships, there was always a layer of an ever-present tension. “I often avoided disagreements with my Pakistani classmates because I wanted to steer clear of unnecessary conflicts or misunderstandings that could escalate into bigger problems,” Sharif said, a grim look on his face.

This exclusion became even more systemic when Sharif completed high school. Pakistani universities did not recognize the schooling, delivered under refugee-administered programs. Sharif spent a year   procuring the paperwork to meet government requirements “This delay marked a turning point in understanding these barriers,” Sharif said. “Even if I worked twice as hard to be considered eligible, my options and opportunities would always remain limited.” 

Upon graduation from IQRA National University, Peshawar (Pakistan) with a business degree, Sharif spent another frustrating year searching high and low for jobs. He ultimately secured a position as an English tutor, a role far removed from his aspirations, and qualifications. 

“Because of who I was [a refugee], I was not considered ‘good enough’ for jobs that I wanted to do… I would’ve liked to do something in business obviously… but I could only get a position as an English tutor even with a business degree!” Sharif said, the frustration on his face obvious as he recalled that time. These roadblocks eventually pushed him “back home” to Afghanistan, in 2016.

A Home He’d Never Known

Sharif’s six years in Afghanistan were a bittersweet chapter in his life, offering him an instant sense of belonging in a country unknown to him. “I wasn’t constantly reminded that I didn’t belong…I was among my people. Even though Pakistan had more facilities to offer, Afghanistan felt like home,” Sharif said, reflecting on the contrast to his time in Pakistan. He started working at the American University’s Women Center – a milestone in his life. “It was fun. It was my first job ever and I was getting paid. Even though it was a long commute, nothing could take from the excitement of finally working,” he said with a big smile.

The joy of living and working in Afghanistan swiftly ended when the Taliban took over the country in 2021. Sharif recalled the tension that gripped Kabul in the days leading up to the fall of the Afghan government and the Taliban takeover. “You could feel it in the air – shops were closing earlier, people were speaking in whispers, and there was this eerie stillness on the streets,” he said. “I knew that I had to leave [after the Doha Agreements was signed.] It was a matter of time when the Taliban would take over…I was subconsciously trying to find a way to get out. It just never happened,” Sharif said. In the months before the takeover, he spent his free time looking at options that could be an escape route. But the Taliban’s advance was faster than he anticipated, leaving him unprepared and without a clear way out. Sharif was stuck in Afghanistan for six more months until Pakistan finally opened its borders, and he was able to cross over.

Leaving behind the place that he had just begun to embrace as home, Sharif found himself in a familiar limbo – physically safe but emotionally uprooted. “I just couldn’t picture myself between Afghanistan and Pakistan again – one did not feel like home and the one that did feel home was not safe enough to be called home.” This time, he channeled his frustration into graduate school applications. “I applied everywhere – Germany, Italy, Japan and even NYU in the U.S. when I heard that they were offering scholarships,” he said. After many months of waiting, he finally received an acceptance letter from NYU.

Sharif described the months preceding his departure as a rollercoaster of hope, anxiety and bureaucratic hurdles. His Pakistani visa was about to expire, and he was worried about being stuck in Pakistan. “I was concerned that what if the [American] visa does not come? What if things do not go as I planned? How long could I stay?” He said.

Despite the odds, Sharif arrived in Washington DC on August 31, 2023. “Exactly two years [since the Taliban takeover]…that’s how long it took me to get out,” Sharif said, smiling ruefully.

Last Stop: New York

He described his ‘new’ life in America in two phases. The first was plagued with uncertainty. “I felt like I wasn’t from here, but I was still happy, excited and unsure,” he said, describing how he felt at Dulles International Airport. He was struck by how ‘big, green and clean’ everything was. “The feeling of being here was surreal…but I was stressed about money, my F-1 [visa] status. I was worried that I could also not travel back to my family in Pakistan, in case something happened to them, because my passport was about to expire.” However, as time passed, he gradually adjusted to life in America. “I slowly started to manage my stress and not overthink 3-4 steps ahead…just focus on things at hand…that was phase two, a time of less uncertainty.”

Today, Sharif works at the NYU’s School of Professional Studies as a program administrator while he awaits his asylum papers. Sitting comfortably at home, he reflects on how far he has come in the thirteen years since that summer day in 2011.“I have stopped worrying about the variables affecting my life. Whatever I do right now, whatever is happening to me right now, all these small experiences, will be dots that shape me ten years from now,” Sharif said, looking confident and relaxed.