My name is Shams. I came to the United States from Afghanistan in 2025—with one suitcase, one dream, and a heart full of hope. I enrolled at the University of Lynchburg and gave everything to my studies. Last semester, that dedication earned me a place on the President's List. It meant the world to me. It told me I was on the right path.
I spent two years as an English teacher in Afghanistan, teaching mostly girls who are deprived from schools. Every lesson was stolen (stolen from a regime that wanted them silent and invisible). I taught because I could not look into their eyes and do nothing. I was arrested for it. My life was threatened. I was told to stop. That is the Afghanistan I come from. A place where learning is a crime and independent thought gets you killed. I didn't leave because I wanted to. I left because staying would have meant the end of me and everything I believed in.
But the path is steep, and I am carrying a very heavy load. I work full-time at Kroger and part-time as a Student Librarian Assistant just to stay enrolled. There are nights when the financial pressure and the uncertainty feels impossible to carry. I am doing everything I possibly can. And it is still not enough. My visa status is not a paperwork issue—it is a lifeline. Falling out of enrollment means falling out of status entirely—that means deportation. Returning back for me means returning to a regime that arrested me, threatened my life, and would now see me as an apostate. The consequences are not a fine or a hearing. They are fatal for me and my family.
If I earn this degree, I will use it to give back, because I know what it feels like to need help and have nowhere to turn. Every contribution goes directly toward my tuition and enrollment—which is what keeps my visa status alive and keeps me safe. It lifts a little of that weight and keeps my hope alive. Thank you for reading, sharing, and believing in me. Your kindness will not be forgotten, and it will not be wasted.
I spent two years as an English teacher in Afghanistan, teaching mostly girls who are deprived from schools. Every lesson was stolen (stolen from a regime that wanted them silent and invisible). I taught because I could not look into their eyes and do nothing. I was arrested for it. My life was threatened. I was told to stop. That is the Afghanistan I come from. A place where learning is a crime and independent thought gets you killed. I didn't leave because I wanted to. I left because staying would have meant the end of me and everything I believed in.
But the path is steep, and I am carrying a very heavy load. I work full-time at Kroger and part-time as a Student Librarian Assistant just to stay enrolled. There are nights when the financial pressure and the uncertainty feels impossible to carry. I am doing everything I possibly can. And it is still not enough. My visa status is not a paperwork issue—it is a lifeline. Falling out of enrollment means falling out of status entirely—that means deportation. Returning back for me means returning to a regime that arrested me, threatened my life, and would now see me as an apostate. The consequences are not a fine or a hearing. They are fatal for me and my family.
If I earn this degree, I will use it to give back, because I know what it feels like to need help and have nowhere to turn. Every contribution goes directly toward my tuition and enrollment—which is what keeps my visa status alive and keeps me safe. It lifts a little of that weight and keeps my hope alive. Thank you for reading, sharing, and believing in me. Your kindness will not be forgotten, and it will not be wasted.
Organizer
