I was born in the Ivory Coast, West Africa, and I am proud to call the United States my home.

When I was nine years old, my mom made a heart-wrenching decision to send me to the U.S. to escape the civil war that engulfed our country for over a decade.

The night before my journey, she carefully packed a large suitcase, making it look like we would travel together. I was super excited—not just about the trip but also because I would be seeing an airplane for the first time.

When we arrived at the airport, we reached the security checkpoint near the plane. Iran to the window, awestruck by the sheer size of the aircraft, eager to step aboard. Then, in an instant, everything changed.

Before I could turn around to share my excitement with my mother, two security guards suddenly grabbed me and whisked me toward the plane. I was confused, overwhelmed, and utterly unprepared for what was happening. I cried the entire trip.

My mom was all I had at the time, and not having her by my side shattered my heart—a feeling that I haven’t been able to shake off to this day.