From Separation to Reunion: The Impact of Migration on Young Refugees and Their Families

Teenagers growing up in conflict zones are compelled to leave their homes to escape war and political or religious unrest (Lustig et al. 2004). In their home countries, they face numerous traumatic experiences, including witnessing, enduring and being forced to participate in extreme violence and conflicts. Additionally, they endure losses of family, security and property, and suffer from poor humanitarian conditions (Ahsan Ullah 2018; Hopkins and Hill 2008). Furthermore, the risks faced by these minors are not limited to their experiences in their home countries; they also extend throughout the extensive migration journey and post-migration phases, presenting various threats at different stages (Von Werthern et al. 2019). In the countries of destination, they are also forced to deal with displacement, precarious status, integrational difficulties and resettlement all on their own without a caregiver's support (Johnson et al. 2013). Their quotidian struggles include complex bureaucracy, social alienation, new school systems, language barriers and the effects of family separation.

One aspect often disregarded in migration studies particularly regarding young refugees are the dynamics associated with family reunification following the solitary migration journey of young people. This dynamic was notably evident in the Syrian migration of 2015, when families could only join their children years later, as part of the politics of family reunification. Here, a question arises: How does the experience of displacement impact familial ties among Syrian minor refugees in Germany, and how are these changes reflected in the family? How do young refugees navigate the complex family dynamics, which include a prolonged separation from their families and a subsequent family reunion in which each member might acquire a new status? Which new family roles emerge as a result of the migratory experience? What are the effects of these transformations on the young people's well-being and integration?

While substantial research has been conducted on the mental health of refugee children, focusing on psychological distress, depression and other potential risks (Bronstein & Montgomery, 2011; Crowley, 2009; Fazel et al., 2012; Huemer et al., 2009; Rousseau 1998), this article addresses a gap in understanding the effects of family separation and reunification as significant elements in their trajectories. Specifically, it examines their influence on the dynamics between teenagers and their parents and extended families – an area that has received limited attention in existing studies – as well as on the transformation of family roles due to migration. In this article, I use an ethnographic approach to gain insight into the lives of unaccompanied young refugees, with a particular emphasis on changes in their attitudes towards their families.

Methodology: The Role of Personal Refugee Experience in Participant-Guided Ethnographic Research

The research is based on a participant-guided ethnographic study conducted between December 2021 and October 2023. The primary data collection methods involved 27 face-to-face interviews with Syrian refugees (both adults and children) and six focus groups with Syrian families.

The fieldwork extended beyond the traditional interview setting, integrating participant observation derived from visiting these families at home and immersing myself in their daily lives. Discussions included 10 mothers aged between 24 and 53, three fathers, and 14 youths aged 14 to 24, who arrived in Germany while still under 18. Within this group, four individuals had left their families in Syria and lived alone in Germany, five arrived with their parents as teenagers and were still living with them, while five others had been reunited with their parents after a long period of separation.

Most of the interviews were conducted at the homes of the participants, except when I met with the teenagers separately, as they preferred having the freedom to talk without the presence of their parents; separate meetings were arranged in cafes, parks or during long walks.

In this participant-guided ethnographic study, teenage refugees are positioned at the forefront as storytellers, steering the direction of the research and allowing for a deeper insight into the complexities of familial ties, social changes and the consequences of separation.

While conducting this study my positionality as a researcher, a mother of two teenagers, and a fellow refugee played a vital role in establishing a relationship for engaging with the participants. Drawing upon my own displacement experience allowed me to relate to their journeys, creating an encouraging environment for open discussions. Additionally, I volunteered in a refugee camp, carrying out vocational training to support Syrian refugees in their daily lives. This multifaceted role allowed me to approach the participants from several angles, fostering a sense of solidarity built on common interests and experiences.

I received warm welcomes into many homes where people were longing for someone to give voice to their stories, which appeared to be endless. This article is part of a larger ongoing project that explores family dynamics among Syrian refugees, with a specific focus on the attitudes of teenagers.

Behind Closed Doors: An Ethnographic Account of a Syrian Refugee Household

I arrived at Taha's house at 11 o'clock as agreed with his mother after we chatted via WhatsApp. Taha is an 18-year-old Syrian refugee who arrived in Germany in 2014. Everyone was still asleep. Taha's mother was waiting for me with a tray of coffee at the table in the living room. I did not need to make any effort to encourage her to talk; she went directly into the story as if she had been waiting for this moment for a long time. She did not ask me anything, not about my research, or with whom I worked. I tried to share some background information to create an atmosphere of familiarity, but she seemed uninterested. It looked like she wanted to make use of every moment of my presence in her home to tell me more about her daily miseries. In a low voice and with suspicious looks at the closed door, she started telling me about her children, starting from the war in Syria, up to the day they had to call the police to take her son Taha out of the house. I was watching her worried looks towards the door. She was taking long silent pauses to check for any movement from behind the door. At around 13:30 Taha entered the room. A young teenager in his 18’s. He greeted us without making any eye contact and sneaked slowly to the corner. I was unable to see his face; he was partially covering his head with his hoodie, bending it down towards the floor. I greeted him as he sat down next to the chimney with his phone in his hand. Quiet and peaceful: this was my first impression of this young boy.

The mother was telling me about her daily struggles; but as Taha entered the room, she shifted the topic to talk about him. Still trying to be invisible, he kept listening to his mother as she suddenly decided to tell bad stories about him. Looking directly at him, she told me that he was the source of all her pains. I noticed that her voice got louder; she was no longer worried about any movement from behind the door.

His mother started describing all the pain he caused her: the bad friends he had, his illegal affairs and his addiction to drugs and alcohol. She told me that one day he broke the door of the living room because his father asked him to translate governmental letters. She said a lot of negative things about him, while he was still withdrawn in his corner, not moving or reacting no matter how dishonourable the image his mother painted was becoming, ignoring all the stories his mother was telling. I wondered how he was able to control his temper as his mother chose to reveal more embarrassing incidents about him. He was nodding his head occasionally and then giving his mother a quick sad look, with a sarcastic smile.

It was the day when he hit his sister, everything has changed since then. The bed was broken into two parts, can you imagine? They share one bedroom. He came back home late; he was drunk and high. I ran to their room as I heard the loud screaming. He hit her; he broke her teeth. My husband called the police because he was not acting normal, he was shouting like a monster at all of us and I was scared. We couldn't control him. The neighbours came out to his noise. The police arrived and they took him away. I told them not to bring him back. A few days later my daughter shaved her hair to zero, she became bald. She said she doesn't want to go out at all and not to see anyone. She stayed in her room for around four months. (2022, W.S., mother of Taha, Syrian refugee in Germany since 2017)

The more stories his mother told, the more oppressive the atmosphere became, and the more vulnerable Taha seemed to me as he listened. As I was leaving, Taha followed me to the doorstep and asked to have my phone number; he texted me asking to meet outside his home. And here is where the story begins.

The Story of a Lost Generation

In the rest of this article, I will focus on the story of Taha who arrived alone in Germany in 2014, as a central case study that I utilise as an illustrative focal point, allowing for a comprehensive portrayal of the experiences of unaccompanied minor refugees in Germany. The selection of Taha as a central case study is not intended to spotlight his individual journey, but to provide a symbol encapsulating the collective experiences of numerous unaccompanied minor refugees.

Taha's narrative is strategically chosen to reflect common threads and shared changes within this demographic. Through Taha's story, this article aims to provide an in-depth exploration and comprehensive portrayal of the experiences of unaccompanied minor refugees in Germany. By utilising Taha's narrative, the intention is to offer a detailed description that mirrors the diverse range of narratives gathered from extensive qualitative research. His experiences resonate as representative, shedding light on shared struggles, aspirations and familial dynamics among unaccompanied minors.

Like Taha, all other examples in this article are young men who have spent the most vulnerable years of their lives in war-torn circumstances, who crossed borders alone in search of a better future for themselves and for their families, but who still lack emotional and institutional support in their daily lives.

Taha arrived in Europe at the age of 11 to claim asylum in the hope of bringing his family later. His mother is 44 years old; his father is 50 and he has one younger sister of 13. He arrived in Germany three years before his parents. During those three years, he stayed in a refugee camp where he learned a lot and changed a lot. He went through countless struggles in which he had to stand on his feet while he was only 11 years old. Today, he is determined to become a part of German society and to overcome the familial ties that, from his perspective, have hindered his ability to achieve his goals.

Striving to Belong

It was Christmas time. As I arrived at our meeting place, the cold rainy weather made me shiver. Taha was waiting for me, leaning against the wall with a cigarette in his hand. He looked handsome, peaceful and quiet, wearing a thick silver necklace, a white T-shirt, baggy jeans and a black leather jacket covered in safety pins. The smell of his perfume was stronger than the smell of his cigarette. His hair was arranged with small black curls rolling down his forehead, covering parts of his eyes. With a long puff of his cigarette, he greeted me and asked if I could wait until he finished smoking. After meeting Taha's mother, I was eager to learn more about him. Our first meeting lasted for seven hours, during which he shared many stories about his chaotic life full of contradictions, drugs, girlfriends, depression, isolation and frustration.

Research has shown that social support is a crucial factor in helping individuals cope with life's challenges. This support often comes from strong connections with family, close friends, and members of one's ethnic group, providing both emotional and practical assistance to manage and deal with life's challenges (van Meeteren et al., 2009).

As I arrived here, I needed my mother more than any other time. I wanted to live with a family, but they put me in a refugee camp because my half-brother was with me, he was 21 years old. So, they said that he could take care of me, but he didn't. He started taking drugs the moment we arrived in Germany. We were in a camp full of men, I was less than half their age. They used to gather in our room to smoke weed as I watched them. They used to make fun of me because I was small. I remember one of them asked me to show him my body, and I refused, but my half-brother hit me on the head and obliged me to take off my T-shirt and to walk around the room, and they all laughed.

Like thousands of other refugees, those teenagers were unprepared to deal with the difficulties of the journey to Europe – a journey that can only be survived by dissociating from distressing memories of being exposed to direct threats, death or kidnap (Goodman 2004). The distressing memories of those who make it to Europe may cause severe mental damage for the rest of their lives (Huemer et al.2009). Moreover, the resettlement journey often leads to lasting social isolation, discrimination and loss of identity in the search for acceptance and a new home in what McCormack and Tapp (2019, p.170) have termed ‘an unsupportive and unsympathetic post-migration resettlement environment’.

We were five or six people together when we left Syria. Only three of us arrived. Some of them were arrested in Hungary, maybe some of them arrived after us, I really don't know. I can't remember.

In Taha's case, his new identity involved facing several dilemmas: getting recognition in his new surroundings and becoming an agent for the integration of his own family, who were relying on his support. This has led to numerous inner conflicts. His identity had to incorporate these new experiences, and thus, becoming full of turbulence and inner conflict, he struggled profoundly and lost sight of his true self.

Reunification or Alienation?

Developmental psychologists and sociologists alike stress that feeling included in their surroundings is what shapes an individual's relationship with a group (Levine et al. 2005). Undoubtedly, growing up around caring individuals who provide for children's essential needs and support them until they become independent is crucial. However, for many child refugees, this sense of security is suddenly replaced by the struggle for survival in a hostile environment due to forced displacement and separation (Van Meeteren et al. 2009).

Taha was born in Syria into a conservative family. In Germany he was socialised into a different lifestyle, which he cannot tell his parents about. He was able to settle in Germany according to the facilitated procedures for unaccompanied minors but had to wait for three years until he was able to bring his family through the procedure of family reunification. Meanwhile, he managed to obtain greater control over his life, and afterwards, over his family as well. This reunion cost him a lot of bureaucratic procedures during which he built up dreams of a happier life and expected compensation for all the hardships he experienced. However, when they arrived, his parents depended on him in all their correspondence with the official authorities and in other daily chores, and instead of fulfilling his need for support, they were always accusing him of neglecting their needs. This accusation placed an extra burden on his shoulders, and instead of regaining his position as a child who has a family to care for him, and having his efforts appreciated, he ended up taking care of them, becoming an agent of their integration – a role that he was not able to fulfil.

With all the conflicts he was facing, Taha's feelings of alienation, guilt and resentment became a part of his new life – a life that he started alone in a refugee camp, with hundreds of new faces around him, new rules to adapt to and a new family routine that he had no choice but to accept:

They sacrificed me instead of sacrificing for me. All parents are supposed to care for their children, but they did nothing for me. I am the one who has been taking care of myself and them since the day they decided to send me here. They are using me as their cane. They don't love me. I lost hope in them, I was waiting for them to come and help me, but now I don't need them anymore. I have my own life now and I don't need them to be part of it. I just go home because there is no other place to go. To be honest, I hate them. Sometimes, my mother cries on the phone to urge me to come back home, and when I come back, I see a pile of letters waiting for me at the table, then I know that the real reason was to respond to the letters and not because she was missing me.

In the face of immense frustration, Taha sought refuge in education, setting his sights on a singular goal: obtaining a university degree. He started studying German the day he was settled at the camp, ignoring all the confusion around him. It was a weapon to keep him optimistic at that time. However, the school system in Germany did not match his expectations.

I wanted to go to school immediately. I asked a man in the camp to help me. After a few months, I could make it to school. I was very mad to see my cousins there. We arrived in Germany together, but they were immediately assigned to a foster family. They come to school with clean clothes, but I was always messy. They had lunch boxes, but I was always hungry and had no money to buy any food. They were able to speak fluent German, but I was sitting in the class like an idiot unable to understand or say a word. We used to be friends back in Syria, but when I saw them at school, I felt that I hated them for everything they had and for everything I didn't have.

After multiple failed attempts to transfer to grammar school, he gave up and decided to skip school. He retreated to his room for six months and started using drugs.

I asked my teacher to take me out of the camp because I wanted to have a family. A few weeks later, he found me a family, and I moved there. I was so happy to start over, but things were not as I expected. They expected me to sleep early, make my bed, take out the garbage and clean my room. What was even worse, they cooked very bad food, and I was always hungry. I felt more like a servant rather than a child. One night, I packed my stuff and left without telling anyone. I was at the youth camp. I stayed there for nine months. It is where I started taking drugs, everyone there takes drugs. At the youth welfare office, they give us very little money, so I had to find a way to survive. So, I started working with drug dealers to earn money. I even started sending money to my parents. I was so proud that I was able to support them. I became the man of the family.

Too many overwhelming events were going on around him and he neither had control over them nor understood their consequences. With very limited options, Taha found himself torn between chasing his dreams of a better education or being a hero in his family's eyes and supporting them, who had invested financial resources to send him to Europe. In other words, Taha was facing a dilemma: to pursue integration through the standard avenue of education, offered to unaccompanied minors in Germany despite numerous challenges, such as complete isolation, economic deprivation, infantilisation and lack of choice (‘I felt more like a servant than a child’), or to seek prompt economic independence and emancipation through informal economic networks, while counting on family support (‘I became the man of the family’). He opted for the second choice, but in Taha's case it turned out to be an illusionary way out. Later, he confessed: ‘To be honest when my parents came it was even more difficult. I was struggling to accept and realise what was happening to me here in Germany, and then my parents came here too, so things got more complicated for me. We used to fight a lot, me and them I mean.’

Falling Apart

As I listened to the recordings and transcribed our conversation, I could see the multitude of dilemmas, uncertainties and disappointments that Taha, and other teenagers, had to endure. The flood of emotions expressed in our meetings could not be easily put into words.

After experiencing various hardships, Taha decided to shield himself in a way that no one could penetrate. ‘I am only passive now. Now I can't go along with my parents. I can never accept the way they treat me; yesterday we fought. I almost hit my father. It is impossible to accept the way he treats me now, impossible.’ As Taha waited for someone to help him, disappointment after disappointment eroded his hope until he reached a point of deep desperation. He stopped hoping for any change and felt that the help he needed would never come.

Despite finding new ways to adapt and ignoring the increasing fear of failure, these teenagers become more vulnerable while trying to escape reality (Walther et al. 2020). Their ability to prove themselves in such circumstances is very little. They cannot successfully and continuously maintain strong relationships either with their families or with society.

Finally, Taha sought companionship in a secret affair with an older woman, as loneliness consumed him. His failing dreams, secret relationship, illegal job and emotional instability were all sources of frustration, leaving him feeling like he was falling apart.

The Inversion of Family Roles and Transformation of Family Models

The experience of isolated autonomous migration of children to Europe often leads to a significant shift in family dynamics and roles, particularly for teenagers who are forced to take on the role of caretaker for their incoming families. Due to the parents’ lack of ability to support their children's educational needs and navigate the school system in the host country, many children are left to navigate their future alone, despite the presence of their families, who often struggle to find work.

For many, the time spent away from home has taught them to be independent and make their own way in the world, shaping their identities in ways that are often vastly different from their families.

This lack of support and guidance can result in children feeling isolated and disconnected as they attempt to pursue opportunities for their future amid a maze of conflicting pathways. This may lead to dropping out of school or taking on shorter-term, lower-paying jobs to support their families. Even after being reunited with their families, many teenagers struggle to establish a sense of familiarity and kinship that fits their new life. The period of being alone in a foreign country pushes them to forge an identity that matches their current environment, but at the same time, disconnects them from their family values.

The shift from being a protected child within a traditional family model to becoming an independent and self-sufficient being, and then supporting one's family of origin, may result in a sense of alienation and isolation. In some cases, the bond with the family may take on a new emotional character, becoming an obligatory tie with only a financial or social obligation:

When they talk to me, I just listen like a robot. I wait till they finish talking while I have something else in my mind. I usually sing so I don't concentrate on what they are saying. I have no feelings for them anymore. They didn't feel my pain, so I don't feel theirs now. It is not my fault.

In Taha's case, his experience of reunification with his family left him feeling weakened rather than empowered. For him, the only mechanism to defend his newly acquired identity was to isolate himself by spending more time away from home and engaging in risky behaviour. He tried not to think about reality anymore, and his perception of his family became more and more negative: ‘My father can't offer me anything. I have seen other people who are in worse situations than he is, but still offering better to their children, but it is because of who he is, let me tell you that: my father doesn't love me, yes, this is the real reason.’

As for many other young Syrian immigrants, for Taha the shift from being a dependent child to becoming the provider and caretaker of the family has had a profound impact. By examining the significant changes that have occurred in his life over the past eight years, one can begin to understand his current attitudes and behaviours.

Conclusions

The experience of migration from Syria to Germany has had significant impacts on intrafamilial relationships as families navigate the challenges of adapting to a new culture and environment.

While refugee parents believed they were making a positive choice to send their children to Europe in advance to guarantee them a better future, their children, on the contrary, consider their parents to have sacrificed them to guarantee a better future for themselves. In exploring how the new roles imposed on these teenagers impact their sense of belonging and integration, we find a strong contrast between their initial expectations and the reality they face. Family support, as a crucial foundation for belonging, growth and the feeling of being loved (Luster et al. 2009), undergoes a complex twist for these young people. Their emotional needs accumulated prior to the arrival of their families. To their surprise, instead of getting the care they were longing for, they found themselves enduring duties, and instead of removing the burden from their shoulders, their parents became for them an additional responsibility. The parent–child relationship has been severely disturbed and deformed due to the reversals in roles whereby children became the primary supporters and cultural navigators for their parents, alongside the parents’ inability to learn and integrate as fast as their children. This shift in roles has directly affected the children's sense of belonging at home, and their ability to integrate to their new life.

To conclude, Taha's narrative reveals not only personal confrontations, psychological challenges and identity disturbance; it also explores further implications on familial dynamics and their reflections on broader society. As we delve into the complexities of refugee experiences, it becomes clear that uncovering young people's journeys of transformation is essential to understand the intrafamilial challenges they face, which play a major role in any individual's ability to achieve successful integration into the host community.

This article stresses the impacts of family separation and the severe effects on all family members. Resettlement procedures and refugee camps should provide more adequate support to these vulnerable groups, as the responsibility of care put on these young people to support their families is too heavy. This aspect of their lives is often overlooked by authorities who usually intervene only in cases of household violence (Lewig et al. 2010). Taking an honest look at the challenges they have had to undergo when arriving in Europe, unaccompanied by their families, can contribute a great deal to their growth and maturity. My ethnographic study with 14 teenagers revealed that these minors strive to establish stability amid the overwhelming challenges they have to face.

Despite their efforts to reconcile their new identities with societal demands and their families, they face challenges and do not succeed. A glimpse into the future reveals a society in which an increasing number of children are at risk of losing their life's purpose (Luster et al. 2009), substituting their aspirations for inclusion and protection with the harsh reality of a lack of belonging.