Outcasts United: An American Town, a Refugee Team, and One Woman's Quest to Make a Difference

Résumé de Outcasts United

1. 1

   A Game That Transcends Borders

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   When Warren St. John's "Outcasts United" hit bookshelves in 2009, it quickly became more than just another sports narrative. Championed by figures like Dave Eggers and selected for countless university reading programs, the book struck a chord by using soccer as a lens to examine America's changing cultural landscape. The story follows Luma Mufleh, a Jordanian immigrant who founded a soccer program for refugee children in Clarkston, Georgia-a small Southern town transformed by refugee resettlement policies into one of America's most diverse communities. What makes this story particularly compelling is how it captures a microcosm of global migration patterns playing out on dusty soccer fields in the American South, where children who fled war zones find themselves battling not just opposing teams, but prejudice, poverty, and the trauma of displacement.

2. 2

   The Unlikely Coach Who Changed Everything

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   Luma al-Mufleh grew up in a privileged family in Amman, Jordan, where her grandmother Munawar taught her compassion for those less fortunate. As a girl in a patriarchal society, she secretly played soccer with neighborhood boys until her grandmother caught her. At the American Community School, she thrived under Coach Rhonda Brown's demanding training methods, learning discipline and teamwork despite initially "hating" Brown's tough approach. When Luma attended college in America, first at Hobart and William Smith before transferring to Smith College, she experienced an awakening. The sight of confident, independent women and the possibility of social mobility impossible in Jordan transformed her worldview. After graduating in 1997, she made the life-altering decision to stay in America, telling her father Hassan she wouldn't return to Jordan. Devastated and then enraged, he cut her off completely. Suddenly without financial support, Luma worked menial jobs in North Carolina, including dishwashing at restaurants where colleagues called her "Liz" to avoid drawing attention to her foreign name. In 1999, she moved to Atlanta, settling near Decatur with no knowledge of nearby Clarkston's refugee community-people who, like her, had fled certain discontent for uncertain new lives. While coaching a girls' soccer team at the Decatur-DeKalb YMCA, Luma developed a reputation for demanding excellence. Her tough methods initially shocked American parents unaccustomed to her requirements: extensive running before practice, strength training, and personal responsibility from players. Though her first season ended winless, her approach gradually paid off. By her third season, her 12-and-under girls' team went undefeated and won their year-end tournament. Despite this success, Luma battled homesickness. Still estranged from her parents, she missed her younger sister and mourned her grandmother's death. During grief-driven drives around Atlanta, she accidentally discovered Clarkston's refugee community. One day while turning around in an apartment complex called the Lakes, she spotted boys playing soccer with "passion, joy, and camaraderie" reminiscent of games near her grandmother's house in Amman. Unlike in Jordan, these players were "white, black, and brown." Intrigued, she parked and watched for over an hour, fascinated by their barefoot play.

3. 3

   Refugees in America's Deep South

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   Before refugees arrived, Clarkston was "just a sleepy little town by the railroad tracks," as Mayor Lee Swaney described it. Founded after the Civil War by farmers and railroad workers, it remained a typical conservative, white Southern town for nearly a century. Everything changed in the 1970s when Atlanta's airport expansion brought development, including apartment complexes built to house workers. By the 1980s, white flight from these apartments mirrored patterns across Atlanta, creating "two Clarkstons"-450 original houses where longtime residents lived, and increasingly neglected apartment complexes. In the late 1980s, refugee resettlement agencies identified Clarkston as ideal for their clients: affordable housing, public transportation access to jobs in downtown Atlanta, and walkable streets connecting residences to shopping centers. The International Rescue Committee, World Relief, and Lutheran Family Services began settling refugees there-first Vietnamese and Cambodians, then Bosnians and Kosovars, followed by Africans from Liberia, Congo, Sudan, Somalia, Ethiopia, and Eritrea. Between 1996 and 2001, over 19,000 refugees settled in Georgia, many in Clarkston. By 2000, one-third of Clarkston's population was foreign-born. Unlike other towns that received large numbers of a single ethnic group, Clarkston became extraordinarily diverse, with proportional representation of nearly every refugee group admitted to America. The town's landscape transformed: women in hijabs and burkas walked the streets, the shopping center filled with ethnic restaurants, a Halal butcher replaced Hungry Harry's pizza, and a mosque opened across from the schools. Rather than organizing protests, Clarkston's conservative southern residents simply retreated into their homes-a response that matched Harvard researcher Robert Putnam's findings that inhabitants of diverse communities tend to withdraw from collective life. This withdrawal bred resentment toward both resettlement agencies and refugees that would eventually boil over. The first public conflicts emerged between refugees and the Clarkston Police Department under Chief Charlie Nelson. Refugees struggled with English, driving skills, and American police protocols, while the department made ticketing them a significant revenue source. Tensions escalated when agencies announced plans to relocate 700 Somali Bantu refugees to Georgia, many to Clarkston. The Somali Bantu, having endured centuries of persecution including slavery and civil war violence, presented unique challenges due to their limited education, trauma, and unfamiliarity with modern amenities.

4. Chapitre 4

   Birth of the Fugees

   After discovering Clarkston's refugee children playing soccer, Luma continued visiting the Lakes apartment complex, gradually learning about their lives. Many lived in improvised family arrangements with relatives rather than parents. Unlike the privileged girls she coached at the YMCA, these boys played soccer with genuine passion whenever possible. Despite her busy schedule running a struggling cafe, Luma felt compelled to create a free soccer program for them. The YMCA surprisingly offered funding for field rental and equipment, and Luma created multilingual flyers announcing tryouts. Eight-year-old Jeremiah Ziaty defied his protective mother Beatrice's strict rules to attend tryouts, arriving with just one oversized sneaker in his backpack, which he wore on his right foot while leaving his left bare. The boys were initially confused by having a female coach, with one Sudanese player dismissing Luma's instructions because "she's a girl." Luma responded by ordering him to goal, then blasting a barefoot shot that sent him diving away in fear. "Anybody else?" she challenged the stunned team. In those first practices, Luma avoided asking about her players' traumatic pasts, wanting the field to be an escape. When she told boys to divide into groups for drills, they would separate according to ethnic backgrounds or common languages. In scrimmages, they would overlook open teammates to pass only to their own kind. "The Afghan and Iraqi kids would look down at the African kids," Luma observed. "And kids from northern Africa would look down at kids from other parts of Africa." As her involvement deepened, Luma faced a crisis with her failing cafe, Ashton's. When one of her players, Jeremiah, revealed his family sometimes went hungry when food stamps ran out, Luma's perspective shifted dramatically. She closed the cafe, filed for bankruptcy, and started a cleaning business employing refugee mothers. Luma committed herself fully to the Fugees, feeling she had found her purpose: "When I got to know the families and their struggles, I knew I couldn't fail."

   Chapitre 5

   Challenges On and Off the Field

   The Fugees faced numerous obstacles beyond simply fielding competitive teams. When tensions arose with the Clarkston Community Center, they were banned from using the center's field. Luma spotted Armistead Field in Milam Park on Google Earth-perfectly located within Clarkston and accessible to all her players-but Mayor Swaney declared, "There will be nothing but baseball down there as long as I am mayor," claiming the fields "weren't made for soccer" despite a park sign clearly showing a soccer ball among permitted activities. The YMCA eventually found an alternative: a field behind Indian Creek Elementary School. However, Luma was stunned to discover it was a "rutted, gravelly moonscape" covered with broken glass, with no soccer goals and constant distractions from the community who used it as a gathering place. The field highlighted the inequity faced by refugee children compared to well-off suburban teams who would never be expected to play in such conditions. Luma's coaching style was demanding and uncompromising. Her rules required short hair, mandatory tutoring before practice, no missed sessions, good behavior, no smoking/drugs/alcohol, no pregnancies, no bad language, punctuality, and effort. When players challenged her authority, she responded firmly-sometimes suspending or dismissing them entirely. The Under 15s presented particular challenges. They had incredible talent-if they showed up. Luma's rule requiring short hair alienated some top players, particularly Prince, a Liberian with perfectly proportioned braids who expected an exception. The hair issue reflected deeper challenges: these teenagers craved peer respect and belonging while caught between their parents' world and American culture. Gangs offered both belonging and status, competing with Luma for the boys' loyalty. This was especially true for Liberian refugees, who were particularly vulnerable to American gang culture. The leap from war-torn Liberia to American gangs wasn't big-they spoke English, were familiar with hip-hop culture, and many had experienced violence firsthand. For fatherless young men, gangs offered familiar power structures reminiscent of the fighter bands in Liberia, plus a path to feeling "American."

   Chapitre 6

   Cultural Adaptation in a Changing Town

   While Clarkston's city government struggled with demographic change, some local institutions successfully embraced it. Bill Mehlinger's Thriftown supermarket stood as a model of adaptation. When refugee arrivals caused his traditional American grocery business to plummet, salvation came from an unexpected source-Hong Diep Vo, a teenage Vietnamese refugee employee who suggested stocking Vietnamese foods. Desperate, Mehlinger followed her advice, and the items sold immediately. Mehlinger adapted with each new refugee wave, stocking Bosnian chocolates, cassava powder for African foofoo, and whole lamb and goat for Middle Eastern customers. He hired refugees as both workers and culinary consultants-now 35 of his 43 employees represent 20 different nations. Today, Thriftown thrives with its diverse clientele despite competition from nearby chain stores. Across from Thriftown, the Clarkston Baptist Church experienced a similar transformation. As white congregants moved away, membership plummeted from 700 to just over 100. William Perrin, a former Army lieutenant colonel and conservative Clarkston resident, became an unlikely advocate for change. Looking to scripture describing heaven as a place for all nations, he proposed remaking the church as an explicitly international congregation. After 125 years, Clarkston Baptist Church renamed itself Clarkston International Bible Church. Now separate congregations of Liberians, Ethiopians, French-speaking West Africans, and Sudanese worship throughout the day in their native styles, with a unified English service in the main sanctuary. Membership has rebounded to over 500. The Clarkston Police Department also reformed under new Chief Tony J. Scipio, who replaced the retired Charlie Nelson. After conducting an undercover investigation of the department, Scipio instituted a simple code called "CPR"-courtesy, professionalism, respect-and began evaluating all complaints against this standard. He implemented diversity training and established a ride-along program for residents. Within months, nearly every officer on the force had been cited for some departmental violation, and seven officers quit during his first month.

   Chapitre 7

   Finding Unity Through Shared Struggle

   Despite their different backgrounds, the Under 13 Fugees developed remarkable unity. During practice, they began running together in a chorus line rather than at individual paces, creating call-and-response chants like "Who are the kings?" with the answer "The Fugees!" Their camaraderie extended across thirteen different countries, languages and religions. This unity was tested during the prestigious Tornado Cup tournament. The Fugees arrived in their usual configuration: a white bus trailing Luma's beat-up yellow Volkswagen Beetle. The boys, confident to the point of cockiness, mocked the competition with their matching gear bags and parents camped on the sidelines. Their first match against Blue Springs Liberty Fire started poorly. Despite controlling early play, the Fugees couldn't convert chances. When Blue Springs scored on a controversial offsides non-call, the Fugees' confidence drained instantly. At halftime, trailing 1-0, they faced Luma's fury as she called them "a pathetic excuse for a soccer team" who knew how to talk but not play. The second half showed a transformed team. Josiah scored on a patient breakaway, Idwar converted from a throw-in, and Jeremiah added a third goal. The Fugees had come back to win 3-1, but at a cost-Qendrim had twisted his ankle and Shahir had lost both big toenails from ill-fitting cleats. In their final tournament game, the Fugees faced the Concorde Fire-an elite soccer academy from upscale Alpharetta where families spent over $5,000 annually on soccer. The Fire players had trained together for five years, practicing twice weekly with additional speed training. They maintained skills through winter indoor facilities, summer camps at Clemson University, and tournament play. Despite the disparity in resources, the Fugees dominated early with several near-misses. When Jeremiah Ziaty finally scored with his weaker left foot, they led 1-0 at halftime. Though the Fire eventually tied the game 2-2, eliminating the Fugees from the tournament, the team had demonstrated remarkable growth and unity.

   Chapitre 8

   The Power of Belonging

   For many Fugees players, the team provided a crucial sense of belonging amid displacement and trauma. Kanue Biah, whose strict guardian Barlea often prevented him from playing soccer, viewed the team as more than just a sports group - it was his sanctuary and chosen family: "When I play on that team, I'm with my brothers." This sentiment ran deeper than mere camaraderie; it represented the stability many players lacked in their turbulent lives. When Luma temporarily disbanded the Under 15s due to discipline problems, Kanue was devastated but demonstrated remarkable leadership by taking initiative to save the team. He secretly copied phone numbers from Luma's phone, systematically reaching out to committed players for new tryouts, showing the lengths he would go to preserve his soccer family. The Dikori brothers-Idwar and Robin-found profound healing through soccer after experiencing unimaginable loss: their mother and three sisters in a devastating car accident. The tragedy manifested differently in each boy-Robin's grief emerged as behavioral problems at school, while Idwar retreated into a shell of silence that worried his teachers and remaining family members. Their chance discovery of the Fugees during a neighborhood pickup game became a turning point. On the field, they found not just an outlet for their pain, but a community of peers who understood loss and displacement. Their teammates, many having fled war zones or refugee camps, created an environment where trauma could be processed through shared experience and athletic pursuit. For Mandela Ziaty, the team represented a complex struggle with his refugee identity. He actively resisted the "refugee" label, which to him carried connotations of poverty and un-American otherness-two stereotypes he fought desperately to avoid. His family's financial struggles since arriving in America remained his carefully guarded secret, hidden from classmates and even some teammates. This duality played out in his appearance: at school, he embraced American teen fashion with baggy jeans and untied high-tops, but for formal occasions and photographs, he'd transform into what he considered a more respectable image-donning crisp white shirts, pressed black slacks, and meticulously polished shoes. On the soccer field, Mandela's natural athleticism was undeniable. His impressive physical presence-tall with powerful shoulders and well-defined biceps-made him an intimidating force during matches. However, an internal struggle constantly simmered beneath the surface, manifesting in behavioral issues during practice. He would challenge authority, talk back to coaches, and sometimes display a frustrating lack of effort that belied his obvious talent. While such attitude problems might have led to dismissal from other teams, Luma showed unusual patience. This tolerance stemmed from both her deep friendship with his mother Beatrice, who worked tirelessly to provide opportunities for her children, and Luma's intuitive understanding that Mandela's acting out masked deeper issues of identity and belonging that many refugee children face. She recognized his behavior as a phase in his journey of self-acceptance and cultural integration.

   Chapitre 9

   Legacy and Impact

   After The New York Times published a front-page story about the Fugees and Mayor Swaney's soccer ban in January 2007, public outrage swept through the community and beyond. The national attention forced the City Council to not only reaffirm the team's right to use the field but also to establish clearer policies protecting refugee access to public spaces. The publicity catalyzed an outpouring of support, bringing donations both large and small. Nike stepped forward with comprehensive equipment packages, while local businesses contributed uniforms and training gear. A generous donor provided a much-needed team bus, solving their transportation challenges. The film rights acquisition proved particularly transformative, providing financial stability that allowed Luma to establish the Fugees Family as an independent organization, breaking free from the YMCA's administrative constraints. The personal transformations were equally profound. Two years after the tumultuous 2006 season, Hassan al-Mufleh's visit to his daughter Luma marked a turning point in their relationship. During an emotional conversation at her home outside Clarkston, Hassan confronted their past conflict over her decision to remain in America. Through tears, his admission "I should have left her alone" opened the door to reconciliation. Their relationship gradually strengthened through regular phone calls and extended visits. The moment of deepest understanding came when, instead of their usual shopping trips for personal items, Luma took her father to purchase school supplies for the Fugees. Watching his daughter prioritize her students' needs over her own, Hassan finally grasped the magnitude of her mission. The program's impact extended far beyond the soccer field. Paula Balegamire received the miraculous news that her husband Joseph had survived the brutal Makala prison riot, eventually securing his freedom. Mandela's story illustrated the program's power to redirect lives, as Luma helped him escape negative influences in Clarkston by facilitating his enrollment in Kentucky's Job Corps, where he successfully completed his high school education. Academic achievements became a hallmark of the Fugees' success. Shamsoun, Natnael, and Yousph's acceptance to Pfeiffer University demonstrated the program's ability to create educational opportunities. Shamsoun's soccer scholarship particularly highlighted how athletic excellence could open doors to higher education. His later fundraising campaign to attend President Obama's inauguration showed the growing political awareness and civic engagement of Fugees alumni. Shahir Anwar's scholarship to the prestigious Paideia School broke new ground, proving that refugee students could compete at the highest academic levels. The program faced ongoing challenges as refugee families continued their journey of resettlement. Secondary migrations saw Liberian families relocate to Iowa's growing African communities, Somali families join established networks in Minneapolis, and Sudanese families seek opportunities in Omaha. While these departures initially challenged Luma emotionally, they taught her valuable lessons about the dynamic nature of refugee communities. Rather than viewing these moves as losses, she learned to celebrate them as signs of families finding their footing in America while maintaining her focus on the constant influx of new refugee children requiring support and guidance.

   Chapitre 10

   A Microcosm of America's Changing Identity

   "Outcasts United" ultimately tells a story larger than soccer. It captures a pivotal moment in America's evolving identity, where small towns across the country are being transformed by global migration patterns. Clarkston represents a microcosm of this change-a place where people from vastly different backgrounds, speaking over 40 languages and representing more than 50 nationalities, are forced to negotiate new ways of living together in a traditionally homogeneous Southern town. British researcher Steven Vertovec coined the term "super-diversity" to describe places like Clarkston, where multiple layers of difference - nationality, ethnicity, language, religion, immigration status, and economic status - intersect in complex ways. He proposed a three-step process for building connections in such communities: first "decategorization" (seeing all aspects of a person beyond single categories like refugee or immigrant), then "recategorization" (finding common ground like shared concerns for children's education, community safety, or economic opportunities), and finally "mutual differentiation" (respecting cultural differences while acknowledging the fundamental interdependence of community members). Throughout Clarkston, these theoretical concepts played out in real-world settings. At Thriftown, the local grocery store adapted its inventory to include international foods and hired multilingual staff. The International Bible Church evolved from a traditional Southern Baptist congregation to a multicultural worship center offering services in multiple languages. The police department hired officers from refugee communities and implemented cultural sensitivity training. On the Fugees' practice field, young players from warring nations became teammates and friends, demonstrating how sports can create a common language and purpose across seemingly insurmountable cultural divides. The transformation wasn't without tension. Long-time residents struggled with rapid demographic changes, while newcomers faced barriers of language, culture, and sometimes outright discrimination. Yet pockets of acceptance emerged organically through shared experiences - parents cheering together at soccer games, neighbors helping each other during emergencies, and children forming friendships in schools and playgrounds. These interactions helped people see beyond categories to recognize individual stories, hopes, and struggles. Like passengers in a lifeboat who never chose to be together but must learn to communicate and cooperate to survive, the residents of Clarkston were navigating the challenges of diversity in an increasingly globalized world. The Fugees' journey shows that while this navigation isn't always smooth, with patience, mutual respect, and shared goals, diverse communities can not only coexist but thrive together. Their story offers valuable lessons for other communities facing similar demographic transitions, demonstrating how sports, education, and everyday interactions can build bridges across cultural divides and create new forms of American identity.

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