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Felicia Lee

Felicia is a Bay Area (Northern California) native, and holds an English degree from University of California, Irvine. As i-ACT's Project Associate, she contributes to the i-ACT team by helping with all i-ACT related projects including the Carl Wilkens Fellowship, Little Ripples, Darfur United, and more. Felicia hopes to be with i-ACT for a long and beautiful time.

Posts byFelicia Lee

A Story about a Boy

This was originally posted on iactivism.org by Felicia Lee. Once upon a time, there lived a little boy named Rami. He was a happy, rambunctious, and talkative child. He lived with his mother, father, and seven siblings in a clean and peaceful home filled with love. Rami was nearly four years old; he could sing songs that he learned at his preschool, and he
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The Ripples are Real

My eyes filled up with tears today. Now, don’t go feeling bummed out yet. I wasn’t on the verge of crying because I was having a moment of despondency over the “plight of refugees,” or so the oft-used phrase goes. This isn’t going to be that kind of blog entry. The tears I had were the kind that come from being carried to a
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Fashion and Fields

Backpacks are becoming popular here. When there are assessments scheduled to take place, our Little Ripples assessment team members each carries a yellow backpack to the school. Since we walk to a nearby “restaurant” for our lunch break on these days, the owner of the establishment has been seeing the same yellow backpacks for a week now. This afternoon, he declared himself as part
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This blog was originally posted on iactivism.org as part of iACT’s 22nd expedition to eastern Chad. Happy Thanksgiving from eastern Chad! We are so grateful to be celebrating out here, near our Darfuri family. Being daily surrounded by refugees who have been away from their homeland for over a decade certainly reminds us to be thankful for everything we have back home, and it
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Reasons to Celebrate

This blog was originally posted on iactivism.org as part of iACT’s 22nd expedition to eastern Chad. When I’m in the camps, I never know which day of the week it is. Today was — well, still is — Sunday, but earlier out in the maze-like “streets” of Goz Amer, it felt as if it could have been any day. School was in session, market
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