Hey everyone,
I’m Malihe, just 46 years old. A mother of two sons, and I was once a wife. I studied in Iran and had a normal life, with dreams like many other women. Today, I stand here because I want to share my story — not because it is easy, but because it is important. I believe that behind every refugee, there is a human story that deserves to be heard. And this is my story.
💔
I have gone through a very difficult past. When I was in Iran, my life was full of worries. I was always thinking about safety, about the future of my children, and about what could happen tomorrow. There was always a feeling of uncertainty, like a quiet fear in the background of everyday life.
🖤
Before I came to Denmark, I lost my husband in Iran. I still remember the hospital — the cold white walls, the smell of medicine, the quiet sound of machines. I was sitting there, holding hope and fear at the same time. I was thinking: What will happen to us? How can I live without him? How can I be both mother and father for my children?
I think “Every child needs a father who shows them love, support, and the right path in life.
“A father teaches strength in a way no one else can.”
🕊️💔
After that, I knew I had to make a decision. I dreamed of a place where my children could grow up without fear, where they could go to school freely, laugh loudly, and sleep peacefully at night. I imagined a life where I did not have to worry every second. I hoped that Denmark could give us safety, peace and a future.
❤️❤️❤️
Now I live in Denmark as a refugee with my two sons.
Life in the camp is not always easy. We live in a small space, and we share many things with others. Sometimes it is noisy, sometimes there is no privacy, and sometimes the future feels unclear. As a mother, it is hard because I want to give my children stability, but instead, I have to tell them to be patient. I see their questions, and sometimes I don’t have answers. That hurts. But we try to use every opportunity in the best way.
🥰
I try to learn every day, so I go to language classes.
Learning Danish is not easy. Farsi is soft and poetic — when we say the word “mother”: madar, it feels warm and deep. Danish sounds different, sometimes harder, with strong sounds, like when we say “mor.” 😅 But both languages are beautiful in their own way, because they carry feelings, culture, and identity.
🙌✌🏻
My older son goes to school, and he is doing very well.
Next year, he will graduate, and I am very proud of him.
My younger son is seven years old.
He is happy, and his happiness gives me hope. Hope for a future where we have a home, where I can cook in my own kitchen, where my children have their own rooms, where we can laugh without worries.
I dream of a simple life:safety, education, and peace.
“Every human being deserves these things in life.”
✌🏻🕊️
We try to create small moments of joy for each other. Sometimes we cook together, and the smell of food reminds us of home. Sometimes we laugh over small things, or watch a movie together. Even sharing tea can become a beautiful moment. These small things give us energy to continue.
🫠
We share a kitchen with people from many different countries, and even though we speak different languages, we try to be kind. Sometimes we smile, sometimes we share food, and in those moments, we understand each other without words.
❤️
Now I don’t want to think about the past. I just want to focus on today and the future.
Even though life is hard, and we carry sadness in our hearts, we try to stay strong. We want to become better people every day. We want to succeed. And we believe in a better future.
✌🏻
I think I speak for all parents here:
We all want the best for our children. That is why I came to Denmark. I wanted a safe life for my children — a place where they can go to school and come back home safely, without fear.
Remember this was just one refugees story. My story. And even though it is hard right now, I still believe in the future.
A future where my children can smile freely, and where our story becomes not only about pain — but also about hope.
Thank you.
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
I’m Malihe, just 46 years old. A mother of two sons, and I was once a wife. I studied in Iran and had a normal life, with dreams like many other women. Today, I stand here because I want to share my story — not because it is easy, but because it is important. I believe that behind every refugee, there is a human story that deserves to be heard. And this is my story.
💔
I have gone through a very difficult past. When I was in Iran, my life was full of worries. I was always thinking about safety, about the future of my children, and about what could happen tomorrow. There was always a feeling of uncertainty, like a quiet fear in the background of everyday life.
🖤
Before I came to Denmark, I lost my husband in Iran. I still remember the hospital — the cold white walls, the smell of medicine, the quiet sound of machines. I was sitting there, holding hope and fear at the same time. I was thinking: What will happen to us? How can I live without him? How can I be both mother and father for my children?
I think “Every child needs a father who shows them love, support, and the right path in life.
“A father teaches strength in a way no one else can.”
🕊️💔
After that, I knew I had to make a decision. I dreamed of a place where my children could grow up without fear, where they could go to school freely, laugh loudly, and sleep peacefully at night. I imagined a life where I did not have to worry every second. I hoped that Denmark could give us safety, peace and a future.
❤️❤️❤️
Now I live in Denmark as a refugee with my two sons.
Life in the camp is not always easy. We live in a small space, and we share many things with others. Sometimes it is noisy, sometimes there is no privacy, and sometimes the future feels unclear. As a mother, it is hard because I want to give my children stability, but instead, I have to tell them to be patient. I see their questions, and sometimes I don’t have answers. That hurts. But we try to use every opportunity in the best way.
🥰
I try to learn every day, so I go to language classes.
Learning Danish is not easy. Farsi is soft and poetic — when we say the word “mother”: madar, it feels warm and deep. Danish sounds different, sometimes harder, with strong sounds, like when we say “mor.” 😅 But both languages are beautiful in their own way, because they carry feelings, culture, and identity.
🙌✌🏻
My older son goes to school, and he is doing very well.
Next year, he will graduate, and I am very proud of him.
My younger son is seven years old.
He is happy, and his happiness gives me hope. Hope for a future where we have a home, where I can cook in my own kitchen, where my children have their own rooms, where we can laugh without worries.
I dream of a simple life:safety, education, and peace.
“Every human being deserves these things in life.”
✌🏻🕊️
We try to create small moments of joy for each other. Sometimes we cook together, and the smell of food reminds us of home. Sometimes we laugh over small things, or watch a movie together. Even sharing tea can become a beautiful moment. These small things give us energy to continue.
🫠
We share a kitchen with people from many different countries, and even though we speak different languages, we try to be kind. Sometimes we smile, sometimes we share food, and in those moments, we understand each other without words.
❤️
Now I don’t want to think about the past. I just want to focus on today and the future.
Even though life is hard, and we carry sadness in our hearts, we try to stay strong. We want to become better people every day. We want to succeed. And we believe in a better future.
✌🏻
I think I speak for all parents here:
We all want the best for our children. That is why I came to Denmark. I wanted a safe life for my children — a place where they can go to school and come back home safely, without fear.
Remember this was just one refugees story. My story. And even though it is hard right now, I still believe in the future.
A future where my children can smile freely, and where our story becomes not only about pain — but also about hope.
Thank you.
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️