I’m deeply grateful to those who quietly helped us take the first step forward.

We’re continuing to do everything we can to stay stable and keep our children housed.

Campaign Update

I’ve already shared the full story on this page.

I know it’s long, but I wanted to be honest and transparent for anyone who wants to understand what my family is facing and why this support matters right now. You don’t need to read everything — even being here means a lot.

We are still doing our best to stay housed and keep some sense of normal life for our children. Any support, whether through a donation or simply sharing our story, truly helps more than I can express.

Thank you for taking the time to be here.

Note: This is the full story for those who want to understand the details. I’ve shared it openly and honestly, but please know that even a quick visit or share means a great deal to us.

Full story:

I never thought I would need to ask strangers for help.

My name is Ahmed. I am a father, and right now my only concern is keeping my children safe and housed after a series of events we never expected and never chose.

Before coming to the United States, I worked as a university professor specialising in foreign languages and a writer. I was formally recruited to the U.S. to serve as a subject-matter expert, and for nearly a year, I carried out my work with dedication and commitment.

Everything changed after I raised formal concerns about the conditions I was working under.

Shortly after that, my contract was terminated without warning.

Our legal status was cancelled, and my family suddenly found itself in a country we had come to legally and in good faith, but now without income, medical insurance, or stability.

For nearly ten months, I was legally unable to work. During that time, we survived only by selling everything we owned back home — our house, our car, and nearly all of our belongings — just to keep our children fed and sheltered. Without medical insurance, even minor illnesses became frightening emergencies. Emergency room visits for our children left us with medical bills we had no way to pay.

We didn’t live month to month. We lived day by day, sometimes hour by hour, hoping something would change.

Our electricity was shut off three times, including once during the winter. Our water was disconnected twice. Internet and phone service were cut off because we simply couldn’t keep up.

Each interruption made daily life — school, communication, even safety — harder for our children.

The impact on them has been heartbreaking. Their schools require stable housing and reliable internet, neither of which we could guarantee. Our oldest daughter graduated from high school with hopes of studying dentistry, but because of our immigration status, she cannot apply for FAFSA or receive financial aid, and we cannot afford her tuition on our own.

Living without health insurance created constant fear. A small symptom was enough to cause panic — not because of the illness itself, but because we knew we could not afford another hospital bill. Over time, the stress took a serious toll on my own health. I developed hypertension, type 2 diabetes, and severe panic attacks.

I worked every job I could find — Uber, DoorDash, Grubhub, substitute teaching, postal delivery — often up to 16 hours a day. But months without income had already destroyed our credit. Once credit collapses in America, doors close quickly: housing, loans, and even basic stability.

Today, we owe $9,000 in overdue rent, and our landlord has begun legal action to evict us. Even if we leave, no landlord will rent to us because of our credit. We have no family in the United States, and we are not eligible for public assistance because we are not citizens. Every request for help ends with the same words:

“You are not eligible.”

After more than three years of crisis we never asked for, my wife is exhausted, my children are frightened, and I am doing everything I can to hold our family together. Asking for help is one of the hardest things I have ever done, but protecting my children matters more than my pride.

Because of nearly a year without the legal ability to work, combined with medical emergencies, high living costs, and the loss of our home and savings, we accumulated debts that we simply cannot overcome on our own.

These are the amounts we are currently struggling with:

$35,000 borrowed from friends who urgently need the money back

$9,000 in overdue rent now leading to eviction

$16,000 in credit card debt for groceries, utilities, and emergency needs

$12,000 in hospital and medical bills

$3,000 in car-related fines and overdue payments

$8,000 in immigration attorney fees

$6,150 in civil attorney fees

$6,200 in court-imposed costs

Loss of our only home and car, worth approximately $40,000

These numbers do not represent luxury or excess. They represent survival — the cost of keeping our children fed, warm, and sheltered during a crisis we never chose.

Any support we receive will be used to keep our family housed, cover overdue rent, secure medical care, and help us begin rebuilding a stable life for our children.

I have always believed in working hard, contributing to my community, and standing on my own feet. I never imagined I would be here. But today, my children’s safety and stability depend on the kindness of others.

If you are able to help, in any amount, it will make an immediate and meaningful difference for my family. And if you are unable to donate, sharing our story would mean more than you know.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.

Thank you for your compassion and for giving my family hope during the hardest moment of our lives.