I See You

At first, the room is quiet. Eight men sit in a circle, unfamiliar with one another, unsure of what this space will ask of them. Some avoid eye contact. Others sit stiffly, hands folded, bodies alert. For many of them, this is the first time they have been invited to slow down and notice what is happening inside.

We are wired for connection, to be seen, known, and loved. Yet fear often keeps us guarded. We worry that if we open up, we will be misunderstood, judged, or rejected. So we learn to carry our struggles quietly. We present what feels acceptable and hide what feels too vulnerable. Sometimes, the pain becomes so heavy that it numbs us, leaving us unsure of what we are even feeling. We learn to keep moving forward.

For the refugee men in this group, these fears are shaped by culture, history, and survival. Many were not taught to speak openly about emotions or inner pain. Vulnerability was not modeled or encouraged. Strength often meant endurance and silence. Yet silence does not make pain disappear. It only pushes it deeper.

This week, we began therapy sessions with a group of eight refugee men, partnering with trained therapists who have intentionally created a safe and respectful space. Rather than starting with words, the sessions begin with the body. Simple physical exercises invite the men to notice their breathing, their posture, and where tension is held. Slowly, awareness opens a door.

Because our bodies, minds, and souls are deeply connected, paying attention to the body often reveals what words cannot yet express. A tightened chest, shallow breath, or clenched hands become signals of stories carried beneath the surface. As the men learn to notice these signals, they begin to name what they have long pushed away.

Over time, something shifts. Strangers begin to share pieces of their story. Pain is spoken aloud and met with listening, not judgment. Heads nod in recognition. What once felt isolating becomes shared. Our hope is that by the end of these six-week sessions, acceptance takes root. Friendships begin to form. Alongside connection, the men gain tools to help them process the ongoing challenges they face.

These sessions remind us that healing does not begin with fixing or advice. It begins with safety, presence, and courage. When people are given space to show up as they are, connection becomes possible. And in that connection, something deeply human and deeply hopeful unfolds.