From the Refugee Camp to the Foro Italico: When Taekwondo Becomes a Refuge

Before arriving in Rome, those girls’ world ended at the boundaries of a refugee camp.

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They had grown up in Azraq, Jordan, within a facility built to accommodate thousands of people displaced by the war in Syria. That was where their homes, their schools, and their friendships were—and also the place where they discovered taekwondo.

In June 2026, seven of them crossed that perimeter for the first time. They traveled to Italy, explored Rome, and entered the Foro Italico, one of the most renowned venues in international sports.

They did not arrive as spectators or as symbolic figures in a charitable initiative. They arrived as athletes.

They competed in the Kim and Liù Tournament, shared the venue used by the stars of the World Taekwondo Grand Prix, and saw for themselves that the sport they practiced in a refugee camp could also take them to the other side of the world.

The scene encapsulated an idea that the Italian Taekwondo Federation has been turning into concrete policy for years: a federation should not only organize competitions, train champions, and win medals. It can also offer refuge, continuity, and an opportunity to start over.

From Azraq to the Foro Italico

The seven girls’ journey had begun long before they boarded a plane.

During a visit to the Azraq camp, the president of the Italian Taekwondo Federation, Angelo Cito, promised them that one day they would be able to compete in Italy.

Fulfilling that promise required much more than an invitation. It involved documentation, international travel, resources, support, and coordination among sports and humanitarian organizations.

In June 2026, the girls finally arrived in Rome.

They participated in the Kim e Liù, the traditional children’s tournament organized by FITA in conjunction with the Grand Prix. Before competing, the delegation was received by Pope Leo XIV and attended the event’s official opening ceremony.

The contrast was striking.

Girls who had been introduced to taekwondo in a camp set up as an emergency response to a war now found themselves in one of the world’s great capitals, on the very same mats where world champions and Olympic hopefuls competed.

However, the true value of that trip did not lie in the audience, the ceremony, or the official photograph.

It lay in treating them as athletes.

Taekwondo Beyond the Camp’s Boundaries

The Azraq Taekwondo Humanitarian Center has been operating since 2018 as part of the programs of the Taekwondo Humanitarian Foundation and World Taekwondo.

Under the guidance of Master Asif Sabah, boys and girls practice the discipline within the camp, with balanced participation from both genders.

The project does not aim to erase the reality that surrounds them. No training can replace a lost home, restore an interrupted childhood, or resolve the consequences of war.

It can, however, restore something essential: the possibility of setting a goal.

For a refugee child, wearing a dobok, learning a technique, following a rule, taking an exam, or representing a team can mean much more than just practicing a sport.

It can mean reimagining a future.

Over time, the center’s students began competing in national tournaments in Jordan and achieved athletic success. From that program emerged Yahya Bassam Al-Ghotany, a member of the Refugee Olympic Team and flag-bearer for the delegation at the Paris 2024 opening ceremony.

The girls’ trip to Rome broadened that horizon.

For the first time, the door opened by taekwondo took them physically beyond the field.

Taekwondo Migrante: The Origin of the Italian Model

FITA’s relationship with refugees did not begin in Azraq or with the creation of a foundation.

Its roots lie in Sicily, where the Taekwondo Migrante project brought the sport to young refugees and asylum seekers housed in reception centers.

The initiative was conceived and coordinated by federation coach Matteo Barcellona in collaboration with professionals from Palermo’s social protection system.

Its purpose was not to discover athletic talent. It sought to use taekwondo as a tool for integration, autonomy, coexistence, and building relationships.

In November 2018, the program was formalized through an agreement between the Italian Taekwondo Federation and the City of Palermo.

The goal was to help young newcomers understand the rules, become part of a group, and rebuild social relationships in an unfamiliar country.

From that experience emerged one of the stories that best illustrates the scope of the project.

Moussa Koulibalì: Fighting to Rebuild Himself

Moussa Bahira Koulibalì arrived in Italy from Guinea.

At the dojo, he found something he hadn’t always received elsewhere: support rather than suspicion, integration rather than judgment.

His journey was chronicled in the book Combattere: A Story of Freedom and Integration Through Taekwondo, written by Federico Viola and Matteo Barcellona and presented at the Foro Italico during the 2022 Rome Grand Prix.

“In the dojang, I always found a hand on my shoulder, not a judgment. That’s why sports saved me.”

Moussa’s words ultimately became the essence of the project.

For some people, fighting doesn’t mean defeating an opponent. It means persevering, regaining confidence, and rebuilding an identity after having lost almost everything.

THF Italy: From Solidarity to a Permanent Structure

In 2021, the Italian Taekwondo Federation took a decisive step with the creation of THF Italy, linked to the Taekwondo Humanitarian Foundation founded by World Taekwondo President Chungwon Choue.

The Italian organization was established to turn humanitarian initiatives into a stable policy rather than a series of ad hoc responses.

Angelo Cito spearheaded its creation with the aim of coordinating resources, programs, and institutional relationships focused on refugees and vulnerable children.

“The decision to bring THF to Italy stemmed from the desire to put taekwondo at the service of people—and, above all, children in need. Taekwondo is a universal discipline for everyone.”

The change was significant.

Solidarity ceased to depend exclusively on the urgency of the moment and gained organizational continuity.

The Giulio Onesti Olympic Training Center, where Italy’s top athletes train, also began to function as a reception center for athletes forced to flee their countries.

The federation no longer limited itself to simply stating that sports could bring people together. It began to put facilities, coaches, accommodations, and competitive opportunities at the service of that idea.

The war in Ukraine reached FITA’s doorstep

In March 2022, a few weeks after the start of the Russian invasion of Ukraine, the Ukrainian Taekwondo Federation asked Italy for help.

Several young athletes needed to leave the country and find a place where they could continue their training.

FITA’s response was immediate: the Olympic Training Center in Rome opened its doors.

Seven young Ukrainians were welcomed to Italy: Mariia Labuzova, Renata Podolian, Danyil Babloniuk, Andrii Chumachenko, Oleksandr Chumachenko, Mykhailo Korsak, and Daniil Maidaniuk.

Several remained in Rome, came of age, began university studies, and joined the daily training regimen of the Italian national team.

Mykhailo Korsak and Andrii Chumachenko served as training partners for Simone Alessio and Vito Dell’Aquila during their preparation for the 2024 Paris Olympic Games.

The image captured a powerful paradox.

While the war sought to derail their life plans, these young men were helping to prepare two Italian stars for the world’s biggest sporting stage.

They were not separate guests of the team. They were part of its training structure.

“The dreams of the athletes and the young people we’ve been welcoming for years are still alive. The war, at least in this regard, has not won.”

Hadi Tiranvalipour: Escaping to Compete Again

Hadi Tiranvalipour began practicing taekwondo at age six in Iran.

His public stances in defense of human rights and women’s rights exposed him to threats that ultimately forced him to flee his country.

His arrival in Italy was a far cry from the life of a high-performance athlete.

With no contacts, no knowledge of the language, and no support system to welcome him, he endured extremely precarious conditions before reaching the Italian Taekwondo Federation (FITA).

His encounter with FITA marked a turning point.

The federation incorporated him into its training program and collaborated with Italian authorities throughout the process that allowed him to obtain refugee status.

In January 2023, he began living and training at the Giulio Onesti Center alongside the national team.

In 2024, the International Olympic Committee selected him as one of the 36 members of the Refugee Olympic Team for Paris 2024. He competed in the under-58-kilogram category after training with the Italian team led by Claudio Nolano.

His journey didn’t end on the tatami.

In April 2025, he graduated with a degree in Sports Science from the University of Rome Tor Vergata and began participating in educational events organized by the federation.

“My story shows that sports can truly change people’s lives.”

Hadi didn’t just regain his athletic career.

He built a new life.

Mahdia Sharifi: Training to Keep Her Voice

Mahdia Sharifi’s story began in Herat, Afghanistan.

She started practicing taekwondo at age eleven, initially in secret from her father, in a society where martial arts were considered an activity reserved for men.

With the support of her mother and brothers, she managed to continue training. She later joined the Afghan national team and in 2019 won a gold medal at a university competition held in South Korea.

In August 2021, the Taliban’s arrival in Herat forced her to flee.

She was 17 years old when she was evacuated to Italy through an operation coordinated by Italian diplomats.

Without speaking the language and having lost almost everything that defined her previous life, she sought out a taekwondo dojang in Genoa.

It was a way to rediscover herself.

Since April 2023, she has been part of a support program for refugee athletes and began training in Rome alongside the Italian national team.

FITA offered her the same facilities, coaches, and competitive opportunities available to its athletes.

Mahdia also turned her experience into a public voice. She participated in institutional meetings and advocated for the fundamental rights of Afghan women, many of whom can no longer study or play sports in their own country.

“I want to give a voice to all the forgotten Afghan women. I hope that one day every woman can have her fundamental rights and her freedom.”

For Mahdia, training isn’t just about pursuing a sports career.

It means refusing to disappear.

The same doors, regardless of nationality

The stories of Moussa, Hadi, Mahdia, the Ukrainian athletes, and the girls from Azraq come from different countries, cultures, and conflicts.

What connects them is not an isolated campaign, but an institutional decision: to open the same facilities used by Italian champions to those who need a place to continue.

That principle requires separating people from governments and athletes from wars.

Cito publicly stated that assistance should also be available to Russian athletes who were in danger or in need of protection.

This position does not eliminate political responsibilities or downplay conflicts. It upholds an essential principle of the Olympic movement: no athlete should be discriminated against solely on the basis of their nationality.

In November 2024, the former IOC President Thomas Bach, visited the Giulio Onesti Center.

There, he found Italian, Ukrainian, Iranian, and Afghan athletes training in the same space.

That image explained the model better than any speech.

Sports do not stop wars, but they can open doors

Presenting sports as a universal solution would be an oversimplification.

Taekwondo does not stop bombings; it does not replace immigration policies; it does not grant legal protection on its own, nor does it reunite separated families.

Nor can it fully heal the wounds caused by persecution, exile, or loss.

It can, however, offer something concrete when backed by institutions willing to take action.

It can provide a safe place, a routine, a community, access to education, professional guidance, and the chance to resume an interrupted career.

The difference between a symbolic gesture and real policy lies precisely there: in what happens after the photo is taken.

Young Ukrainians continued to live, study, and train in Rome.

Hadi made it to the Olympic Games and graduated from an Italian university.

Mahdia found a sports organization and a platform from which to advocate for the rights of Afghan women.

Moussa turned his journey into a story that can inspire other young migrants.

And the girls from Azraq weren’t taken to the Foro Italico just to watch.

They went up to the competition area.

A federation is also measured by the lives it transforms.

Italy has reached the international elite of taekwondo through Olympic champions, athletic achievements, and a structure recognized within World Taekwondo.

However, there is another way to measure a federation’s importance.

It doesn’t involve counting medals, analyzing rankings, or calculating the number of events organized.

It involves seeing what a federation does with its institutional capacity when someone knocks on its door.

FITA decided to use part of that capacity to welcome people who had lost their country, their stability, or the basic right to practice the sport of their choice.

This work does not make taekwondo a solution to all humanitarian problems. But it demonstrates that sports institutions can do more than just utter words like peace, inclusion, and solidarity during a ceremony.

They can turn those words into decisions.

“Our doors are open to all athletes fleeing war zones. These are gestures that a federation can make, and they are worth more than a million words: they are actions.”

In June 2026, while some of the world’s top competitors were vying for points toward Los Angeles 2028, seven girls from a refugee camp stepped onto the same stage in their doboks.

They had crossed borders, checkpoints, and thousands of kilometers to get there.

For a few hours, they were no longer portrayed solely as victims of a war they did not choose.

They were athletes.

And perhaps that is the most profound expression of what sports can do when someone decides to open the door.

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