Between Two White Coats: When Refugee Experience Meets Refugee Physician Care

One afternoon in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, I met two Syrian women who are separated by age and experience and yet still share a history of exile and a future defined by medicine. Their story is a reminder that healing is not something that happens in hospitals, but in quiet exam rooms, between shared language dialects, and through the invisible string of shared struggle.

Context: The Syrian Refugee Crisis and Displacement to Jordan

Since the outbreak of the Syrian civil war in 2011, millions of Syrians have been forcibly displaced. Jordan has become a primary refuge for those fleeing violence and instability. The influx led to the establishment and expansion of several large refugee camps, notably Zaatari (established 2012) and Azraq (established 2014). These camps, while providing essential shelter and services, are overcrowded and provide limited resources. People who live in the camp face uncertain futures. For many refugees, including the extended families of Dr. Fatima and Amal, the years spent in Jordan were marked by hardship and resilience before their families’ eventual resettlement in the United States.

A Shared Journey from Syria to Brooklyn

Dr. Fatima was born in Syria. As the conflict escalated, her family fled to Jordan, where they lived as refugees in urban areas and informal settlements. Before the establishment of large formal camps like Zaatari and Azraq, many Syrian refugees sought shelter in Jordanian cities under difficult conditions, often without official camp support. Years later, Dr. Fatima pursued medical education in Jordan before eventually resettling in the United States.

In contrast, Amal was born and raised in a formal refugee camp in Jordan, experiencing the prolonged challenges of camp life firsthand before coming to the U.S. to study. Now a high school student in Brooklyn, Amal is interested in biology and public health, preparing for a career path to medical school with a dream of becoming an internal medicine physician focused on preventative care.

Navigating Barriers: Dr. Fatima’s Path to Residency

Dr. Fatima’s journey to medical practice in the United States was far from straightforward. As an International Medical Graduate (IMG), she faced nearly insurmountable barriers: the high cost of licensing exams, limited access to mentorship, and fierce competition for residency positions. “I didn’t have connections,” she states. This is a common experience of many IMGs. “No one from my medical school was here. And there’s no scholarship for a refugee taking Step 1 alone in a basement apartment.” Despite applying to a multitude of programs, she received very few interviews. What carried her through was relentless determination, a supportive Arab-American community, and the few local physicians who recognized her potential rather than her limiting refugee status. “I was ready to work and help patients, especially of my background,” she said. “But I had to fight just to be recognized for my medical school training.”

Policy Context: Systemic Barriers for Refugee International Medical Graduates

The journey for refugee International Medical Graduates (IMGs) like Dr. Fatima is complicated by complex immigration policies and limited financial support. Visa restrictions, such as J-1 waivers required for many residency programs, create additional hurdles, often tied to service commitments in underserved areas. Furthermore, funding for licensing exams and preparatory resources is scarce, disproportionately affecting refugees without established networks or institutional backing. These systemic challenges contribute to severe underrepresentation of refugee IMGs in U.S. medicine despite their high motivation and unique cultural competencies. Addressing these policy barriers hands on is essential to aid the full potential of refugee physicians in improving healthcare equity, in the communities they live in.

An Encounter Rooted in Recognition

Dr. Fatima, now a practicing dermatologist, first saw Amal in her clinic after Amal noticed a mole she thought was minor. Dr. Fatima immediately identified concerning features and promptly ordered a biopsy. The diagnosis: early-stage skin cancer, caught right on time.

“I didn’t expect it to be anything serious. None of my family members ever had skin disease,” Amal shared. “But Dr. Fatima didn’t hesitate [or] brush it off. She immediately recognized and treated it, no wait times, and it was great to be treated with someone from my background.”

For Dr. Fatima, seeing Amal was like looking into a mirror. “When I saw her file, it said ‘born in Zaatari Camp, 2012,’” she said. “That’s where many of my extended family was born, and where I lived for a short period of my life. Same cold winters, and same crowded health lines.”

Their shared history fostered a clinical relationship rooted in trust and cultural understanding. Dr. Fatima was aware of the barriers Amal faced: lack of stable insurance, cultural stigma, the pressure of succeeding in a new country, and the constant emotional pangs that call back to their homeland. She took extra care to explain the diagnosis and treatment plan in Arabic, Amal’s preferred language, to reassure Amal that this diagnosis would not define or derail her future.

Healing Across Generations
Their encounter was more than doctor and patient. It was a meeting of a possible mentor and mentee, survivor and survivor of shared experience. Amal, who now was exposed to a healthcare experience in the United States, left with a treatment plan and renewed hope.

Interview: A Conversation with Amal and Dr. Fatima
To do justice to their stories, I interviewed both women together in Dr. Fatima’s clinic, where they shared their reflections.

Shorooq: Amal, what was it like being treated by someone with your exact background?

Amal: It felt like I was in my aunt’s living room, not a clinic. [Amal’s aunt is also a physician] There was a sense of understanding, not just medically, but emotionally. I didn’t have to explain why I hesitated or worried about cost, or even refugee status discrimination. She already knew.

Shorooq: Amal, has this experience influenced your vision of becoming a doctor?

Amal: Completely. I used to think I had to be perfect in my applications, my scores, which is still a definitive goal. But she (Dr. Fatima) reminded me that being a refugee doctor is its own qualification. We bring strengths others can’t. I’ve always wanted to be a doctor. Seeing physicians treating us in Zaatari (refugee camp in Jordan) resonated with me. It’s difficult to hold on to any future goals with such lack of stability. But I already know what kind of doctor I want to be. I want to be a doctor who provides a feeling of stability in a moment of vulnerable medical treatment. Refugee patients are already systematically vulnerable in refugee camps and foreign countries. It’s important for patients to have physicians like Dr. Fatima, physicians who understand.

Shorooq: Dr. Fatima, what would you say to Amal as she is thinking of choosing to be a physician as her journey?

Dr. Fatima: Always keep going. Even when doors feel closed. There will be you, then many others after you, that you will treat and also mentor, like I did.

Final Thoughts

This narrative affirms that proper representation and opportunity for all trained medical students, wherever you come from, within the healthcare workforce is crucial. Supporting refugee physicians and students as necessary contributors to medicine strengthens our collective ability to provide fair and effective care.

For policymakers and practitioners dedicated to health equity, Dr. Fatima and Amal’s story underscores the necessity of creating pathways that acknowledge the unique challenges of refugee medical professionals and students, while valuing the importance their experiences bring.

Note: Names and certain identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy and identities of individuals featured in this story.