Feras Fayyad The reallife superheroes helping Syrian refugees TED Fellows
[SHAPE YOUR FUTURE]
Society has a set
of stories it tells itself
about who refugees are
and what they look like.
But let me tell you a different story.
My story.
I’m a filmmaker and a refugee
from a small village in northern Syria.
In our village, growing up,
there was no stable electricity supply.
We spend most of our nights
around gas lanterns
and told stories about Syrian
mythological superbeings
that protected the vulnerable.
I was a boy who loved
the stories of superheroes.
But later on, these stories shifted
to tales of heroes
that my family has to face
under the Assad dictatorship.
One of my uncles was killed under torture.
My father had to burn his books
before they were even published
in order to protect us from the regime.
He burned his dreams along with his books.
These stories must not be forgotten,
my parents insisted.
The stories stopped being a pastime.
It became a form of resistance.
I studied filmmaking
and focused on documentaries.
Documentary filmmaking, you see,
became my way of resistance.
I documented stories of Syrians
who opposed the Assad regime,
in 2011, when the revolution started.
I was arrested, tortured
and sexually assaulted.
When I was released, I left Syria.
I was traumatized
and tried to end my life.
My wife stood by me
and helped me hang onto life.
But as a result, I stopped making films.
Despite my arrest and torture,
I took many risks
in order to see my family.
So a year later, when the Assad regime
lost control of the north of Syria,
I was able to visit my hometown.
There, I met many inspiring Syrians,
real life superheroes
who stayed behind to save lives.
I was captivated by how genuine they were.
Without planning, I took out
my camera and started filming,
I felt inspired.
These real-life superheroes
saved the filmmaker in me.
Khalid was one of the heroes
in my first feature film,
“Last Men in Aleppo.”
Khaled was a simple man
who dreamed to be a firefighter,
but he couldn’t follow his dream.
So he worked as a house painter.
When the war destroyed his city,
he found his calling.
He joined the White Helmets,
a group of Syrian volunteers
who formed a civil defense organization
to rescue civilians
from their bombed homes.
Khalid saved hundreds of lives.
While doing that, he died as a hero.
The second hero is Dr. Amani Ballour,
whose story I told
in my second film, “The Cave.”
It’s a story of an extraordinary woman
who founded an underground
hospital in eastern Ghouta.
She treated injured children,
victims of atrocities,
while bombs fell around them.
As a female scientist,
she defied sexism and patriarchy
to save civilians who suffered two attacks
with chemical weapons.
And then there are the two superheroes
who saved my own life.
Khalil Ma’touq and Anwar al-Bunni.
They are the lawyers who took up my case
and got me out of the most notorious
torture facilities in Damascus.
While Anwar now is in Germany,
fighting for justice for Syrian refugees,
Khalil was arrested in 2012
because of his work.
We don’t know anything about him
because the Syrian regime
continues to deny his arrest,
but his work is not in vain.
It’s for Khalil I faced
my torturer in Germany.
In June 2020 I gave my testimony
at the first trial
on Syrian state of torture
before a German court in Koblenz.
It is for Amani and Khalid
I’m still the filmmaker today.
They inspired me to create
a new cinematic universe of superheroes,
based on their quest to end injustice.
Creating this cinematic universe
has not been an easy journey.
It’s been a brutal struggle
against racism and discrimination
in the film industry,
an industry dominated by people
who think they know how the audience,
how you want a film about Syrians to be,
how you want superheroes
or refugees to look.
But refugees look just like me.
These refugees were superheroes
who defied the status quo and stereotype.
So I will not stop. I owe it to them.
I owe it to my daughter,
the young refugee child.
To tell the stories of superheros
who look just like her.
For her, I will continue to resist.
Thank you.