“Subhan Allah.”

This, in Arabic, means “Glory to God,” and I hear it from at least one member of my family every time another bomb goes off, another ancient temple gets destroyed, another child washes up on shore, and so on, in my family’s home country of Syria. Many people are aware that yet another war is occurring in another Middle Eastern country, but to them, it’s just another part of the Middle East going down in ruins. It’s not as personal to them, but it’s personal to me and my family.

My whole family is from Syria. My sister and I, along with our cousins, are all first-generation American-Syrians. Our parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles — all born, and for the most part, raised, in Syria. Because of that, my life has been very much culturally Arabic. I grew up on a diet of labneh, baba ganoush, hummus, olives, and fruit for breakfast and lunch, and yebret and kibbeh labanieh for dinner.

I grew up listening to Arabic music on long car rides home and seeing older members of my family dance the dabke and smoke argile (or what most people call hookah) at family parties. Being Syrian was something I always boasted about to my friends because I felt as there was something different and unique about my family that no other family had. Little did I know my family’s country and culture would be soon swept aside as just another corrupt and violent Middle Eastern country.

My family never thought that Syria would be one of the countries that would descend into devastating war like the Middle Eastern countries surrounding it did. We never thought that a day would come where my family would be video-chatting with my grandparents in Syria and the connection would cut out right after we hear a bomb go off in the background. We were terrified.

My grandparents never fathomed that they would have to flee their country and be stuck in the United States where they must watch their beloved country crumble from afar, desperately saying that they will return one day, even though we know that they probably won’t. It’s heartbreaking and devastating and I feel as though the general population of American doesn’t know about the true Syria. The Syria I got to visit and experience as a child, the one that my mom always told me stories about, the one my grandparents yearn for every day as they watch it fall apart.

I remember, when I was younger, sleeping under the stars on my grandparents’ balcony in Aleppo, one of the biggest cities in the country. I remember the afternoon naps that everyone would take after lunch, bellies so full that you couldn’t help closing your eyelids if only for an hour.

I remember my mom telling me stories of her childhood; how she would fry potatoes for her and her little brother when her parents weren’t home. She would tell me about this cold, licorice drink that street vendors would sell on hot days that would feel like sweet relief. The markets were filled with colorful spices and garments for you to peruse through and an endless amount of food for you to try.

I learned that one of my great grandfathers helped build one of the most prominent and historical libraries in Syria. All of this, and so much more contributed to an image in my mind that showed Syria as a culturally magical place filled with endless tastes, sights, and smells that would endlessly satisfy the curious and the intrigued.

But now it is just a place for news networks to show that yet another part of the Middle East is falling apart. How could it not? The Middle East, it seems, is cursed.

I constantly try to remember all of the good things about Syria every time another devastating event has popped up on my newsfeed. I can only imagine how much harder it must be for my family to see, who were actually born and raised there. I constantly thank God that my family has been incredibly lucky and that we are one of the few families that have not lost someone yet, and I try to remind people that my family, among many, did not see this coming. We can only hope that life as Syrians in America will get better, and that we will not have to endure the constant amount of bad news that no person should experience when it comes to the current state and safety of their beloved country.