What a Door Knock Means to Me by Anita

What a Door Knock Means to Me by Anita - May 2023 Scholarship Essay

As I am mere months from starting my first year at Georgetown University, planning to major in Global Affairs and minor in Spanish, I often find myself ruminating on my family’s journey. Torched by the Khmer Rouge, Cambodia’s intricate cultural tapestry disintegrated with the ashes of those murdered during the Khmer Rouge. Landmines boomed as my three-year-old father mimicked his parent’s every step, knowing a stumble’s fatal consequences. My one-month-old mother combated starvation by feasting on fish bones while her cousins trained as child soldiers and other relatives were decapitated. After surviving these atrocities, my parents and our relatives sought refuge in America, burying their traumas and jostling through barriers to heal their lasting scars, only to face newfound challenges as immigrants.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

For years, my paranoia associated door knocks with ICE agents—men in black with ballistic shields, ready to burst through the door and rip my undocumented family from me. Door knocks left me frozen in my seat and my heart palpitating, fearing that my paranoia would become reality one day.

Determined to fight for my family’s place in this country we call home, I applied to intern at The Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights (CHIRLA). During our first meeting, we candidly shared our stories, paying homage to our parents and ancestors who have survived war as well as the loss of family and home. We became a refuge for one another to break down and cry over deported parents, unvisited motherlands, and the pressure to assimilate yet remain true to our heritage. As the weeks progressed, I learned how to advocate for policies that welcome immigrants into our communities while diving into the nuances of international human rights. Representing CHIRLA through meetings with California’s leaders, I shared my family's immigrant experience, pressing them to initiate the inclusive policies we learned. As the only organizer in Orange County, I faced the barrier of convincing my predominantly conservative community to join our cause. Despite the fear of judgment, I shared my story to gain their trust and increase their willingness to listen. These moments taught me the importance of creating a safe space to learn one another's stories, encouraging discourse to bridge our differences. Standing on the foundation laid by CHIRLA, I was driven further to understand advocacy and healing on the global stage.

In turn, I began interning for the Cambodian Embassy in Washington, D.C. Here, my bilingualism supported Ambassador Keo in many ways, such as advocating for bomb deactivation. Editing his speeches, I thought of my father and became even more adamant on how today’s children deserve to walk freely—not gambling their steps like our parents once did as children. During this time, I also learned how Cambodia’s history of human rights violations still lingers. Invited by the embassy to a meeting at the Capitol where they discussed Cambodia’s unlawful arrest of environmental activists, I saw two ends of the spectrum—one advocating for humane policies and the other still striving to recover from war and genocide. This experience expanded my perspective of differences in government and how history, such as the Khmer Rouge, shapes leadership within and relationships between countries. In reflection, my time at the Cambodian Embassy solidified my passion for service, advocacy, and diplomacy, rooted in my family’s story of survivorship and resilience. I am here today because of the people who helped my family when they were refugees of the Khmer Rouge and when they immigrated to America. Achieving higher education and serving our global immigrant and refugee communities during this journey will be my way of paying it forward.

Knocking erupts once more.

Instead of cowering in fear, I open my door and look out to my future at Georgetown University, where I will not only share my story but also learn our communities’ past and present to improve relations and quality of life. In this future, I rally on the steps of the U.S. Capitol and partake in programs such as the Summer Immigrant Rights and Advocacy Program, placing the power of speech and vulnerability in the hands of those who have long lived in the shadow of fear—those who deserve to feel safe. As issues of genocide and war continues to plague our world, I plan to get involved in research to help advance our understanding of these topics and how we can effectively help nations recover. Catching a glimpse of my career with the United Nations, I watch how my agony and restlessness morph into purpose, fighting for a future where a door knock invites excitement, not fear.