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Andrea Osorio  ·  Colombia

The Struggle for Limited Resources

Andrea
Andrea Osorio

My name is Andrea Osorio. I’m Colombian, from Bogota. Although I’m Colombian by birth and have lived here for many years, my true feeling is that it is better to be a citizen of the world.

Colombians and Venezuelans are neighbors and are close like sisters or brothers. Simon Bolivar, the great South American hero, was born in Venezuela and died in Colombia. Migration between Venezuela and Colombia has historically gone both ways. It may depend on where to find jobs or because of a deteriorating political situation, corrupt government, or the drug cartels. Whatever the reasons for migrating, some of them have problems adjusting to their new home.

Colombia in particular has experienced violence, from the FARC especially, and also the ELN, the Sinaloa Cartel, and many other terrorist groups. Consequently, many Colombians in the 1980s went to work in Venezuela because they couldn’t work here. It was terrible then in Colombia, especially in the countryside where the violence upset our economy. A few years ago, I translated materials for the United Nations which documented incidents about the guerillas, the military, and paramilitary raping indigenous women and causing families to abandon their homes. A typical displaced family, maybe five in the household, lived in a rural area and grew vegetables, and one day the paramilitary would stop by and say “Kill a cow for us!” The family would have to do what they were told or face being shot.


To escape the violence there was a mass exodus from the rural areas to the cities where they lived in terrible conditions, actually in cardboard boxes. The UN refugee agency estimates that as of 2020 there are 8.3 million internally displaced Colombians. That’s the highest internal displacement number globally.

Venezuelans and displaced persons in Colombia are two disparate groups who compete for limited resources. Venezuelans have a lot of government support but that doesn’t apply to displaced persons. We know too that the international community provides assistance to migrants, but funds that are supposed to help migrants get caught up in the bureaucracy and don’t get to them.

Another problem is the growing xenophobia among the less educated rural poor who feel they are being displaced by Venezuelan. They believe it’s just like in the States where migrants are accused of taking jobs away from Americans because the migrants work illegally for smaller wages. My view is that we should try to understand the plight of the Venezuelan refugees because one day we may be in a similar predicament. Some of the migrants may be bad and commit crimes but every community, especially where there are many migrants, has good and bad people. Since I’ve lived in different countries and have observed how displaced people need to struggle, I know it’s important to be nonjudgmental and have the humanity to know that people can live through things that you have never gone through.

Personally, I suffered from racism when I was in the States. I didn’t expect to see racism in Colombia but it is there and throughout Latin America, where it takes the form of a social class structure based on money, education, and other socioeconomic factors. We call it “estratos sociales” or social stratification. The strata, for example, might range from 0 to 6 with strata 0-3 living in terrible conditions. These people are treated like they are worthless and not quite human. The higher end of the strata has money and elite status. They live very good lives and are treated well and respected by everyone. This social stratum impacts all aspects of life. If you live in a strata 1-3 certification, for instance, you are charged differently and arbitrarily for water, electricity, and even cable.

The effect of social classes makes it even more challenging for immigrants and refugees who are usually considered to be in the lowest strata. These people arrive here hoping to improve their lives but because of their low status find that difficult.

Foreign aid for the displaced is coming in for Venezuelans but not as much for Colombians. Colombian mothers resent what is given to the children of Venezuelan refugees. The mothers complain that space in schools is taken from their children and given to the Venezuelans. The Covid pandemic and meager assistance have aggravated this tension in the poor Colombian communities which I’ve seen that look like the worst slums and shantytowns (favelas) in Brazil. Some of the refugees are going to other South American countries as well, and I know of the rape of children and other dangers they face. There are insufficient resources to support all the needy and keep them safe.

We should focus on educating Colombians in empathy and humanity and encourage them to help those in need, be they our displaced Colombians or Venezuelans. We should value life. The poor need opportunity, not just handouts. Unfortunately, we must do this while our corrupt government makes things worse because the bureaucracy takes from the people who need the most help.

Informed Consent

Our team members obtain informed consent from each individual before an interview takes place. Individuals dictate where their stories may be shared and what personal information they wish to keep private. In situations where the individual is at risk and/or wishes to remain anonymous, alias names are used and other identifying information is removed from interviews immediately after they are received by TSOS. We have also committed not to use refugee images or stories for fundraising purposes without explicit permission. Our top priority is to protect and honor the wishes of our interview subjects.

What would you do if you had to leave everything behind?

By the end of 2024, more than 123.2 million people worldwide had been forcibly displaced from their homes due to war, persecution, or human rights abuses.

An increase of 7.2 million over 2023, that’s more than 19,619 people every day — roughly one person every 4.4 seconds.

They arrive in refugee camps and other countries, like the US, seeking the one thing they’ve lost: safety.

Fleeing political imprisonment, ethnic violence, religious persecution, gang threats, or war crimes, they come with what little they managed to carry:

Legal papers – if they’re lucky.

A single backpack.

Sometimes a child’s hand in theirs.

They also carry the weight of what they left behind: fractured families, homes they’ll never return to, professions they loved, friends and relatives they may never see again.

They carry loss most of us can’t imagine – but also the truth of what they’ve endured.

At TSOS, we believe stories are a form of justice. When someone shares their experience of forced displacement, they reclaim their voice. And when we amplify that voice – through film, photography, writing, and advocacy – the world listens. Hearts soften. Communities open. Policy begins to shift.

That shift matters. Because when neighbors understand instead of fear…

when lawmakers see people, not politics…

when a teacher knows what her student has survived…

Rebuilding life from the ashes becomes possible.

We’re fighting an uphill battle. In today’s political climate, refugee stories are often twisted or ignored. They’re reduced to statistics, portrayed as national threats, or used to score political points.

The truth – the human, nuanced truth – gets lost, and when it does, we lose compassion.

We are here to share their truth anyway.

At TSOS, we don’t answer to headlines or algorithms. We are guided by a simple conviction: every person deserves to be seen, heard, and welcomed.

Our work is powered by the people we meet — refugees and asylum seekers rebuilding after loss, allies offering sanctuary, and communities daring to extend belonging.

Your support helps us share their stories — and ensure they’re heard where they matter most.

“What ultimately persuaded the judge wasn’t a legal argument. It was her story.”

— Kristen Smith Dayley, Executive Director, TSOS

Will you help us keep telling the truth?

No donation is too small — and it only takes a minute of your time.

Why give monthly?

We value every gift, but recurring contributions allow us to plan ahead and invest more deeply in:

  • New refugee storytelling and advocacy projects
  • Resources to train and equip forcibly displaced people to share their own stories
  • Public education that challenges fear with empathy
  • Local efforts that help communities welcome and integrate newcomers

As our thank-you, monthly supporters receive fewer fundraising messages — and more stories of the impact they’re making possible.

You don’t have to be displaced to stand with those who are.

Can you give today — and help carry these stories forward?

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