‘Therapy in your own language gives hope’

Ali fled Lebanon because of personal and social challenges. In his homeland, he studied music and theatre, followed by a post-graduate degree in music therapy. He worked with children for six years, providing psychological support and treating trauma with music. “That gave me a sense of purpose,” he says.
But in the Netherlands, everything started differently. Full of hope, he arrived in May 2019. “There was joy. I thought: finally I am building a life here.”

Reality hit hard. After six months, the shock came. Long waits to get residency status, moves between asylum seekers“ centres in Budel, Wageningen and Arnhem. Each time, he had to quit his therapist and start over somewhere else. ”That broke the connection,“ Ali says. ”In therapy, relationships and trust are everything. But I knew: I won't stay in the same AZC for long.“ He felt isolated. ”I didn't understand anyone around me. Conversations flew by, but I was on the outside."

Language as wall

Ali struggled with his gender identity, anxiety, depression and PTSD from the war in Lebanon. “The first year I still had strength. After a year, despair came.” Language was like a wall: therapy in English felt superficial. “I wanted Arabic, my mother tongue. An interpreter doesn't help with sensitive pain.” Job applications from 2022 stalled. “Hardly any job interviews. I felt useless.”

In Amsterdam, he slowly found support. His GP referred him, despite waiting times. At the OLVG hospital, he did EMDR; ‘Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing’, therapy to process unpleasant, traumatic memories. “As a result, I recovered tremendously.” Now he has been attending therapy at Kaleidos, an organisation offering specialised therapy for lhbti people, for more than a year.

BOOST Amsterdam became his anchor: “Not therapy, but activities like music and language. I meet people, feel at home.” As a volunteer, he translates, helps with e-mails and participates in music groups. “I recognise their stories: loneliness, language barriers, a sense of inferiority. We all carry trauma with us.”

Voice for change

Ali sees how mental problems block integration. “Newcomers feel alone until they master the language. A therapist in your own language gives hope.” He advocates for change. “There should be therapists who speak the client's mother tongue. The system is limited to Dutch or English.” For the municipality: more culturally sensitive care, shorter waiting lists.

Mental health colours Ali's vote in municipal elections. In Lebanon, he didn't vote: “What did my vote matter?” Here, that changed. “When I felt part of society, I realised: voting changes things.” He advises status holders: “Be curious. Ask what parties have to offer. Voting connects you to the culture.” For Ali, voting represents recovery. “Together we get better help. It is our right and our duty.”

Mental health status holders in Amsterdam

Many status holders in Amsterdam struggle with psychological problems: 40% with depression, 35% with anxiety disorders, and 33.5% with PTSD (GGD Amsterdam, 2023). Language barriers and waiting lists impede care. The municipality invests in group Dutch courses, but there is too little capacity. More culture-sensitive therapists are also needed (SCP, 2020).

Amsterdam municipality passed a motion to better mentally support status holders, to reduce severe mental health problems and improve integration (Parole, 2023).

This election special was made in collaboration with Network Newcomers Amsterdam (NNA). The NNA is funded by the Amsterdam municipality.