The Detroit Area's Many Syrians are Celebrating Assad's Overthrow and Planning Long-Delayed Visits

Rama Alhoussaini holds a Syrian flag in her Dearborn Heights, Mich., office, Tuesday, Dec. 10, 2024. (AP Photo/Corey Williams)
Rama Alhoussaini holds a Syrian flag in her Dearborn Heights, Mich., office, Tuesday, Dec. 10, 2024. (AP Photo/Corey Williams)
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The Detroit Area's Many Syrians are Celebrating Assad's Overthrow and Planning Long-Delayed Visits

Rama Alhoussaini holds a Syrian flag in her Dearborn Heights, Mich., office, Tuesday, Dec. 10, 2024. (AP Photo/Corey Williams)
Rama Alhoussaini holds a Syrian flag in her Dearborn Heights, Mich., office, Tuesday, Dec. 10, 2024. (AP Photo/Corey Williams)

Nizam Abazid is gleefully planning his first trip in decades to Syria, where he grew up. Rama Alhoussaini was only 6 years old when her family moved to the US, but she's excited about the prospect of introducing her three kids to relatives they've never met in person.
They are among thousands of Detroit-area Syrian Americans who are celebrating the unexpected overthrow of the Syrian government, which crushed dissent and imprisoned political enemies with impunity during the more than 50-year reign of ousted President Bashar Assad and his father before him.
“As of Saturday night, the Assad regime is no longer in power,” Alhoussaini, 31, said through tears Tuesday at one of the Detroit-area school and day care facilities her family operates. “And it’s such a surreal moment to even say that out loud, because I never thought that I would see this day.”
It may be some time before either visits Syria. Though happy to see Assad go, many Western countries are waiting for the dust to settle before committing to a Syria strategy, including whether it’s safe for the millions who fled the country’s civil war to return.
Ahmad al-Sharaa, who led the insurgency that toppled Assad after an astonishing advance that took less than two weeks, has disavowed his group's former ties to al-Qaeda and cast himself as a champion of pluralism and tolerance. But the US still labels him a terrorist and warns against any travel to Syria, where the US hasn't had an embassy since 2012, the year after the war started.
But for Syrians in the US who have been unable to visit, the overthrow of the Assad government has given them hope that they can safely return, either for good or to visit.
“The end of the regime is the hope for all the Syrian people,” Abazid said this week, days after Assad and his family fled to Russia.
Abazid said he could go to Syria whenever, since he holds dual US and Syrian citizenship, but that he'll wait a few months for things there to settle down.
Although European leaders have said it's not safe enough yet to allow war-displaced refugees to return to Syria, Abazid said he and his brother aren't concerned.
“When Assad’s forces were in power, my fate would’ve been in jail or beheaded,” Abazid said. “But now, I will not be worried about that anymore.”
Many Syrians who immigrated to the US settled in the Detroit area. Michigan has the largest concentration of Arab Americans of any state and is home to the country's largest Arab-majority city, Dearborn. It also has more than 310,000 residents who are of Middle Eastern or North African descent.
As opposition forces seized control of Syria, capping a lightning-quick advance that few thought possible even a month ago, Syrians in and around Detroit — like their counterparts all over the world — followed along in disbelief as reports poured in about one city after another slipping from Assad's grip. When news broke that Assad's government had fallen, celebrations erupted.
Abazid, who owns a cellphone business in Dearborn, was born in Daraa, about 60 miles (95 kilometers) south of the Syrian capital, Damascus. He moved to the US in 1984 at age 18, and although he's gone back a few times, he hasn't visited since 1998 because of what he described as “harassment” by Syrian intelligence. That trip had to be heavily coordinated with US authorities, as he said Syrian authorities took him into custody and detained him for more than six months during a 1990 visit.
“When I was kidnapped from the airport, my family didn’t even know ... what it was about," he told The Associated Press on Tuesday. "I still don’t know the reason. I have no idea why I was kidnapped.”
Abazid, 59, said his parents have died since that 1998 trip, but his five sisters still live in Syria. Each of his four brothers left Syria during the 1970s and 1980s, including one who hasn't been back since emigrating 53 years ago, shortly after Bashar Assad's father, Hafez al-Assad, rose to power.
Alhoussaini, who lives in West Bloomfield Township, said she was born in Damascus and moved to the Detroit area as a young girl, “mainly because there was nothing left for us in Syria.”
She said under the Assad family's rule, her grandfather's land was taken. Authorities detained him for almost a month. Her father was also detained before the family left.
“There never needed to be a reason,” Alhoussaini said. "My dad was able to return one time, in 2010. And he has not been able to go back to his home country since, mainly because we spoke up against the Assad regime when the revolution started in 2011. And we attended many protests here. We were vocal on social media about it, did many interviews.”
But with Bashar Assad gone and Syria in the hands of the opposition factions, “We don’t have to be afraid anymore to visit our country,” she said.
Her father, 61, is considering making a trip to Syria to see his siblings and visit his parents' graves. Alhoussaini said she and her husband, who is from the northern city of Aleppo, want to take their kids over to visit with family and friends.
Alhoussaini’s three sisters, ages 40, 34 and 29, were also born in Syria. But none of them have been back.
Now, there is hope and amazement that people in Syria can celebrate in the streets, she said.
Alhoussaini said she thinks people who were born and raised in the US won't be able to fully relate, because Americans enjoy a freedom of expression that people in Syria have never had.
“You can say what you want. You can go out into the street and protest whoever you want,” she said. "You will not be detained for it. You will not be killed for it.”



Yarmouk Camp: Gaza-like Destruction, Uncertainty Amid Temporary Decisions

The destruction within Syria’s Yarmouk camp mirrors the scenes of war in Gaza (Asharq Al-Awsat)
The destruction within Syria’s Yarmouk camp mirrors the scenes of war in Gaza (Asharq Al-Awsat)
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Yarmouk Camp: Gaza-like Destruction, Uncertainty Amid Temporary Decisions

The destruction within Syria’s Yarmouk camp mirrors the scenes of war in Gaza (Asharq Al-Awsat)
The destruction within Syria’s Yarmouk camp mirrors the scenes of war in Gaza (Asharq Al-Awsat)

This is not Gaza. It is the Yarmouk camp in Syria.
Simply reading the sign repeatedly at the entrance of the Palestinian camp near Damascus is not enough to cement this truth in the visitor’s mind.
One must constantly remind themselves, with every step and glance, that this is not Gaza, but the Yarmouk camp, just 18 kilometers from Umayyad Square. The camp faced systematic destruction and a long siege, leading to the deaths of over 150 residents, mostly children, from hunger and thirst.
The few families who returned after the fall of Bashar al-Assad’s regime or in recent years are barely visible among the vast destruction, which stretches beyond what the eye or camera can capture.
A passerby emerging from the rubble or children returning from their makeshift classes at the nearby UNRWA school might seem like a scene from a film.
But this is the daily reality for the survivors.
“There are no services in the camp,” locals told Asharq Al-Awsat.
“No electricity, running water, internet, or basic healthcare—just ruined buildings, endless destruction, and dust.”
The memory of the starvation siege still lingers in Yarmouk.
A young man who survived the 2018 siege spoke to Asharq Al-Awsat on the condition of anonymity.
“I remember the first piece of bread I ate after days of hunger. The taste never leaves me. After nearly a week without food or water, I remembered seeing a bag of bread in our neighbors' fridge,” he recalled.
“I mustered the strength to go and found the fridge, burned by airstrikes, still attached to the bread. Only the ends of the loaves had survived, though they were moldy... I ate it like a feast.”
The young man then showed old photos of himself, looking pale and thin, almost like a different person. Like him, many men, including heads of households, feared death or arrest if they went to food distribution points. These supplies, trickling in from local factions and the UN, came with great risk. Many "humanitarian corridors" became traps for men and young people.
Since 2011, the camp has endured military targeting, airstrikes, and intense battles. But in 2018, Yarmouk faced one of its darkest moments. After the 2011 uprising, many Palestinians supported it, including activists and Hamas members.
In response, Ahmed Jibril’s Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine–General Command, along with other pro-Assad factions, launched a violent attack on the camp and Free Syrian Army groups.
Barrel bombs fell on Yarmouk and nearby areas like Al-Hajar Al-Aswad, Al-Tadamon, and Yalda. The situation worsened with the presence of a ISIS stronghold in the southern part of the camp, connecting to those areas.
Founded in 1957, Yarmouk camp, covering around 2.5 kilometers, was once a bustling commercial center, home to nearly 1.5 million people, including Syrians, Palestinians, and some Iraqis. Today, fewer than 8,000 people remain, according to UNRWA estimates.
While many compare Yarmouk’s current situation to Gaza, the issue extends beyond the camp. It is one of 15 Palestinian camps in Syria, with over eight suffering severe destruction, all needing rebuilding and support like Yarmouk, as well as other damaged Syrian neighborhoods and areas around Damascus.
Residents face total neglect, uncertain about their future, the fate of missing family members, and the condition of their homes. Their biggest complaint is a sense of being abandoned, with no social, service, or political support.
They feel like orphans of the former regime, armed groups, and the revolution all at once.
Even the Palestinian factions that once controlled the camp now live in Damascus's middle-class and upscale neighborhoods, with some having moved to Beirut.
For years, civilians were trapped between ISIS, other factions, and the regime. Sources confirm that ISIS in Damascus was founded by a former prisoner from Yalda, released by the regime after the 2011 protests.
He was joined by an Iraqi officer living in Yarmouk, both of whom defected from Al-Nusra Front.
For nearly two years, ISIS expanded into nearby areas like Al-Hajar Al-Aswad, Al-Tadamon, and the southern part of Yarmouk, forming a large network of smaller extremist groups that fought and defeated the Free Syrian Army at the time.
During this period, ISIS militants were treated at the government-run Al-Mahini Hospital, later becoming the first armed group to negotiate with the former regime in southern Damascus. They left in organized convoys of buses to the desert of Sweida after surrendering military checkpoints, while Yarmouk residents remained fully besieged.
Asharq Al-Awsat passed the site of the “Ali Al-Wahsh” checkpoint, where a massacre killed 1,200 Yarmouk civilians (according to documented figures).
The worst part of this massacre was not just the number of victims, but the deception used to lure residents with promises of a safe passage for aid after the siege. Once there, men were executed, and women and children were forcibly displaced. Many residents, fearing for their lives, chose to stay hungry rather than risk going for help.
Diaa Suleiman, who lived through that time as a teenager and is now a father of three, said: “After all we went through, we’ve been betrayed. We are completely abandoned. No one looks at us, not even those who caused this. We need protection. We need answers... We need to know where we stand.”
An unofficial meeting, details of which were leaked, took place between Yarmouk faction leaders and representatives of Hayat Tahrir al-Sham. The agreement was that Palestinian fighters would hand over their weapons to the new regime in Syria, following a broader call for all factions to do the same.
While Palestinian weapons in Yarmouk were never used against Israel but instead in internal conflicts to support Assad’s regime, their removal now seems like the least difficult demand.
The value of these weapons has completely disappeared, especially since Yarmouk is now empty and destroyed. Restoring any authority there will require rebuilding both the infrastructure and the people.
“The major challenge ahead is how to define the legal and civil status of Palestinians and protect them through the law,” Ayman Abu Hashem, general coordinator of the Palestinian-Syrian Assembly (Maseer), told Asharq Al-Awsat.
Unlike most Palestinian refugee communities, Syrian law grants Palestinians the right to work, own property, and enjoy all civil rights, except voting. However, it excludes those who arrived after the 1967 war or from Jordan after 1970, and those constitute a significant number.
While most Palestinians in Syria see themselves as also Syrian, Hashem said their main demand is to gain Syrian citizenship while keeping their Palestinian identity.
“We don’t want to be seen as giving up the right of return or our connection to Palestine. But we and our children deserve Syrian citizenship, like anyone born and raised in a country, becoming a dual citizen,” explained Hashem.