An exposé of the hidden suffering that over half of Syria’s refugees endure and the conflicts they continue to flee. No refuge: this is the harsh reality encountered by the women and children who flee Syria in search of safety. When boatloads of Syrian refugees began arriving on European shores in the spring of 2015, Western television screens were filled with images of men. Where, journalist Maria von Welser asked herself, were the women and children, whom she knew made up over half the population of refugee camps? In these pages, von Welser reveals the hidden stories of those Syrian women and children. There are stories of desperation and predation: loss of wealth and of life, child marriage, rape, kidnapping, and sex slavery. But there are also stories of empowerment and hope—including the conviction that we can turn compassion into real change.

Journalist Maria von Welser reveals the stories of some of the Syrian women and children who make up over half of the population of refugee camps.

Syrians crossing the Mediterranean in ramshackle boats bound for Europe; Sudanese refugees, their belongings on their backs, fleeing overland into neighboring countries; children separated from their parents at the US/Mexico border--these are the images that the Global Refugee Crisis conjures to many. In the news we often see photos of people in transit, suffering untold deprivations in desperate bids to escape their countries and find safety. But behind these images, there is a second crisis--a crisis of arrival. Refugees in the 21st century have only three real options--urban slums, squalid refugee camps, or dangerous journeys to seek asylum--and none provide genuine refuge. In No Refuge, political philosopher Serena Parekh calls this the second refugee crisis: the crisis of the millions of people who, having fled their homes, are stuck for decades in the dehumanizing and hopeless limbo of refugees camps and informal urban spaces, most of which are in the Global South. Ninety-nine percent of these refugees are never resettled in other countries. Their suffering only begins when they leave their war-torn homes. As Parekh urgently argues by drawing from numerous first-person accounts, conditions in many refugee camps and urban slums are so bleak that to make people live in them for prolonged periods of time is to deny them human dignity. It's no wonder that refugees increasingly risk their lives to seek asylum directly in the West. Drawing from extensive first-hand accounts of life as a refugee with nowhere to go, Parekh argues that we need a moral response to these crises--one that assumes the humanity of refugees in addition to the challenges that states have when they accept refugees. Only once we grasp that the global refugee crisis has these two dimensions--the asylum crisis for Western states and the crisis for refugees who cannot find refuge--can we reckon with a response proportionate to the complexities we face. Countries and citizens have a moral obligation to address the structures that unjustly prevent refugees from accessing the minimum conditions of human dignity. As Parekh shows, there are ways we as citizens can respond to the global refugee crisis, and indeed we are morally obligated to do so.

Forced to leave his home in war-torn Syria, thirteen-year-old Ghalib makes an arduous journey with his family to a refugee camp in Turkey. Includes glossary.

In the spring of 1983 Terry Tempest Williams learned that her mother was dying of cancer. That same season, The Great Salt Lake began to rise to record heights, threatening the Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge and the herons, owls, and snowy egrets that Williams, a poet and naturalist, had come to gauge her life by. One event was nature at its most random, the other a by-product of rogue technology: Terry's mother, and Terry herself, had been exposed to the fallout of atomic bomb tests in the 1950s. As it interweaves these narratives of dying and accommodation, Refuge transforms tragedy into a document of renewal and spiritual grace, resulting in a work that has become a classic.

Abuse is ugly. It is always wrong. It is never part of God s design for healthy family living. It distorts relationships and shatters dreams. It creates pain and despair. It never produces hope. You know this all too well--that's why you've picked up this book. Nancy Nason-Clark and Catherine Clark Kroeger know the pain of women who have been abused, especially the unique pain of Christian women who thought it couldn't happen to them. In this straightforward, practical book they supply the answer to the questions you face: How do I know I need help? How much of my story should I tell? Where do I find spiritual support as a victim of abuse? What help can I find in the community? How do I get started on the healing journey? What key steps will I need to take to get on with my life? How can I understand what help my abuser needs? How do I learn to trust God again? Their advice is solid, backed up by Nason-Clark's professional expertise as a sociologist and Kroeger's as a biblical scholar. Together they supply both here-and-now, step-by-step advice you need to start the healing journey and biblical insights to nourish your soul and sustain you on the path to wholeness.

Syrians crossing the Mediterranean in ramshackle boats bound for Europe; Sudanese refugees, their belongings on their backs, fleeing overland into neighboring countries; children separated from their parents at the US/Mexico border--these are the images that the Global Refugee Crisis conjures to many. In the news we often see photos of people in transit, suffering untold deprivations in desperate bids to escape their countries and find safety. But behind these images, there is a second crisis--a crisis of arrival. Refugees in the 21st century have only three real options--urban slums, squalid refugee camps, or dangerous journeys to seek asylum--and none provide genuine refuge. In No Refuge, political philosopher Serena Parekh calls this the second refugee crisis: the crisis of the millions of people who, having fled their homes, are stuck for decades in the dehumanizing and hopeless limbo of refugees camps and informal urban spaces, most of which are in the Global South. Ninety-nine percent of these refugees are never resettled in other countries. Their suffering only begins when they leave their war-torn homes. As Parekh urgently argues by drawing from numerous first-person accounts, conditions in many refugee camps and urban slums are so bleak that to make people live in them for prolonged periods of time is to deny them human dignity. It's no wonder that refugees increasingly risk their lives to seek asylum directly in the West. Drawing from extensive first-hand accounts of life as a refugee with nowhere to go, Parekh argues that we need a moral response to these crises--one that assumes the humanity of refugees in addition to the challenges that states have when they accept refugees. Only once we grasp that the global refugee crisis has these two dimensions--the asylum crisis for Western states and the crisis for refugees who cannot find refuge--can we reckon with a response proportionate to the complexities we face. Countries and citizens have a moral obligation to address the structures that unjustly prevent refugees from accessing the minimum conditions of human dignity. As Parekh shows, there are ways we as citizens can respond to the global refugee crisis, and indeed we are morally obligated to do so.

Long after the Mexican-American War brought the Southwest under the United States flag, Anglos and Hispanics within the region continued to struggle for dominion. From the arrival of railroads through the height of the New Deal, Sarah Deutsch explores the cultural and economic strategies of Anglos and Hispanics as they competed for territory, resources, and power, and examines the impact this struggle had on Hispanic work, community, and gender patterns. This book analyzes the intersection of culture, class, and gender at disparate sites on the Anglo-Hispanic frontier--Hispanic villages, coal mining towns, and sugar beet districts in Colorado and New Mexico--showing that throughout the region there existed a vast network of migrants, linked by common experience and by kinship. Devoting particular attention to the role of women in cross-cultural interaction, No Separate Refuge brings to light sixty years of Southwestern history that saw Hispanic work transformed, community patterns shifted, and gender roles critically altered. Drawing on personal interviews, school census and missionary records, private letters, and a wealth of other records, Deutsch traces developments from one state to the next, and from one decade to the next, providing an important contribution to the history of the Southwest, race relations, labor, agriculture, women, and Chicanos. This thirty-fifth anniversary edition reflects on its place in the history of the Anglo-Hispanic borderland, class, and gender.

Oklahoma wildlife photographer Jim Cutter had nothing more in mind than making a decent image of a hungry coyote. Instead, a different kind of predator, a hired killer, appeared in his viewfinder and a cold-blooded murder was captured in startling color on a digital memory card.The assassin had memories of his own, ones that went back more than one hundred and fifty years, memories which drove him to the edge of madness and a never-ending thirst for revenge.

If we choose to trust unconditionally, how many lives could we change? When Pastor Bruce Deel took over the Mission Church in the 30314 zip code of Atlanta, he had orders to shut it down. The church was old and decrepit, and its neighborhood--known as "Better Leave, You Effing Fool," or "the Bluff," for short--had the highest rates of crime, homelessness, and incarceration in Georgia. Expecting his time there to only last six months, Deel was not prepared for what happened next. One Sunday, he was approached by a woman he didn't know. "I've been hooking and stripping for fourteen years," she said. "Can you help me?" Soon after, Bruce founded an organization called City of Refuge rooted in the principle of radical trust. Other nonprofits might drug test before offering housing, lock up valuables, or veto a program giving job skills and character references to felons as "a liability." But Bruce believed the best way to improve outcomes for the marginalized and impoverished was to extend them trust, even if that trust was violated multiple times--and even if someone didn't yet trust themselves. Since then, City of Refuge has helped over 20,000 people in Atlanta's toughest neighborhood escape the cycles of homelessness, joblessness, and drug abuse. Of course, trust alone can't overcome a broken system that perpetuates inequality. Presenting an unvarnished window into the lives of ex-cons, drug addicts, human trafficking survivors, and displaced souls who have come through City of Refuge, Trust First examines the context in which Bruce's Atlanta neighborhood went downhill--and what City of Refuge chose to do about it. They've become a one-stop-shop for transitional housing, on-site medical and mental health care, childcare, and vocational training, including accredited intensives in auto tech, culinary arts, and coding. While most social services focus on one pain point and leave the burden on the poor to find the crosstown bus that'll serve their other needs, Bruce argues that bringing someone out of homelessness requires treating all of their needs simultaneously. This model has proven so effective that a dozen new chapters of City of Refuge have opened in the US, including in California, Illinois, Ohio, Maryland, Virginia, Texas, and Georgia. More than a narrative about a single place in time, this radical primer for behavioral change belongs on every leader's shelf. Heartfelt, deeply personal, and inspiring, Trust First will break down your assumptions about whether anyone is ever truly a lost cause. Bruce will donate a portion of his proceeds from Trust First to the charitable organization City of Refuge.