'We never thought we would return': How Syria's liberation opened the door for its diaspora to come home

Since Aisha was a child, she would frequently visit Syria with her family, spending summers with her cousins and even living there at one point. 

However, her summer vacations stopped when she was 14, when the country descended into civil war. Bashar al-Assad's crackdown on peaceful protests killed and imprisoned hundreds of thousands, while millions fled the country.  

As Aisha was in the UK, she was experiencing the war in an entirely different way, worrying about what her family in Syria was going through, knowing she was not there. 

"There would be so many nights we would be just watching the news, watching bombs fall on our city, and not knowing if our family was going to be all right or not, if they're going to survive it," Syrian-Irish freelancer Aisha Aldris tells The New Arab. 

"When I think about them now, it's crazy that this was something that was even happening, that you need to check on family to make sure they're alive after your city or town was bombed," Aisha adds. 

"We just couldn't imagine a stable and safe life with Assad in power." 

Aisha is one of the millions of Syrians living abroad who spent years unable to return to the country she considered her true home. For 14 years, Syrians across the world — whether exiled or long settled overseas — stayed away, knowing the Assad regime's reach made any visit dangerous.

"Being in the diaspora and unable to connect with your homeland the way you wish deeply shapes you — especially your sense of cultural identity," Aisha continues.

While some had been able to visit family and return, many feared what the passport stamp would mean for future travel abroad, leaving many idle in their diaspora countries.

Families torn by fear

"It was fear that kept the Syrian diaspora community members away, and rightfully so," director of Military and National Security Priorities at New Lines Institute, Caroline Rose, tells The New Arab. 

"There was fear for their lives and fear for the lives of their family. People were just hesitant about going because of what the regime was capable of," Caroline explains. 

For political exiles, a return to Syria meant facing the regime's retaliation and the consequences they had once fled.

"[The Assad regime] knows about you, and likely, they have harassed your family that stayed in Syria; they have harassed them because of your efforts," Caroline continues, recalling the heartbreaking story of Mazen al-Hamada.  

"It is a risk for both you and your family members if you re-enter Syria and the security agencies find out that you are currently present inside the country." 

It wasn't until December 2024 that Syria was finally liberated after a rebel uprising, marking a new beginning.

Millions of Syrians, like Aisha, were able to visit the place they had always called their second home and reconnect with family they hadn't seen in years. 

"It was such a big mix of emotions," Aisha recalls. "I was so happy to be back. I felt so rooted there. It felt like it was where I belonged, really. Its essence is exactly how I remember it, like nothing's changed. Its soul is the same."

The homecoming rush

After studying Syria for so long, Caroline was also finally able to visit the country in April to witness first-hand how the fall of a brutal regime impacts its people. 

"It's just really beautiful to see how many flocked back to Damascus," she tells The New Arab.

"They left different lives across the world to come home and be able to take their families with them on this journey," says Caroline.

"You could hear the political discourse in the streets of Damascus, and you could see how individuals and communities were a lot more hopeful for the future."

The director also witnessed a political demonstration in Umayyad Square, something that was unthinkable last year, especially in the capital, Damascus. 

As for Suzanne Akhras, she knew exactly where to go even after 13 and a half years after her last visit. She has now visited Syria six times since the fall of the Assad regime last year.

"We never thought we would ever go back," the Syrian-American humanitarian activist and politician told The New Arab.

Not only did she meet the country's interim leader, Ahmed al-Sharaa, to push for more diversity in his cabinet, but Suzanne shares that she also ate ice-cream at Damascus' famous Bakdash parlour, visited the Umayyad mosque, drank cocktails and walked around in a town that was so familiar to her. 

"I felt my memories return right away; I knew where to go and how to get there. I knew all the streets," Suzanne shares. 

While she could feel the chaos and sense the euphoria, Suzanne couldn't help but notice how the war had physically impacted Syrians on the ground. 

"People's faces look exhausted," she explained.

"You can physically see what 14 years of war and destruction had done to them." 

In Homs, she felt a heavy quiet, its residents still staying inside out of habit — echoes of the tight siege Assad once imposed on them.

"They were afraid, and everybody kept saying, 'Is it true, could it be that he left,' as if he was going to come back," Suzanne says.

"It's like a living nightmare; as if he may come back and rule again."

Following the fall of Assad last December, Syrian-Kiwi political economist Karam Shaar was also finally able to travel back and forth to Syria after fleeing in 2012 for his activism.  

"Never have I experienced such a rush of mixed emotions," Karam tells The New Arab.

"It's so interesting because I felt everything to the extreme, especially in the first couple of days; I was scared, I was elated, I was confused, you name it," he shares. 

"You feel that everything you touch might just crumble, like everything is hanging by a thread." 

Upon returning to Aleppo, Karam says he saw remnants of what used to be his childhood home, barrel bombed by the Assad regime and damaged from the Turkey-Syria earthquakes in 2023.  

In a turn of events, the economist has also bought a house and a car in the country to continue his consulting work, helping to rebuild Syria. Whether he and his family will relocate permanently is still an option. 

"I was actually starting to live with the strong possibility that I will never go back," he says. 

"I started feeling that I have to work on Syria out of mercy for those who are left behind, as opposed to my initial motivation, which was to have a prosperous country to go back to, to make it a developed country with fellow Syrians and so on. But now this dream is coming back to me. Luckily." 

Rebuilding Syria's hope

As Syria marks one year into its liberation, the nation still needs to rebuild from the devastation created by Assad's brutality.

Caroline says she hopes for a new Syria that serves as a model of stability and security in the region, but most importantly, finds a way to heal after the trauma it experienced under the regime. 

"I think that Syria is entering this incredible new chapter," Caroline explains.

"Of course, there are so many risks, and there is so much to be done, but it's really been given this kind of precious gift of being able to rebuild and determine its own future after years, over a decade of civil war."  

Aisha shares her excitement for what is to come. "Every Syrian is just hoping for the best for their country and hoping that we see beautiful things to come with it," she says.

"It's knowing that although things take time, we're now in a position we never imagined to be in before, and that in itself feels very liberating and gives us hope," Aisha adds. 

"We hope this trajectory continues, and we see a beautiful Syria the way that we had always known it to be."

Anam Alam is a staff writer at The New Arab. She frequently writes about human rights and social issues, including women's rights and sex education

Follow her on X: @itsanamalam