Author: JHISN

We All Belong Here: Recap of our Annual Community Gathering

On October 17, 2019, the Jackson Heights Immigrant Solidarity Network (JHISN) held its annual community gathering at The Renaissance Charter School. Videos of the speakers’ presentations and musical performances, as well as photographs, are posted below. Following is a recap of the event.

Balafon master Famoro Dioubate from Guinea performed as attendees arrived at the gathering and found their seats.

Melissa Greenberg welcomed everyone and explained how JHISN began in 2017. She introduced Nuala O’Doherty, president of the Jackson Heights Beautification Group. Ms. O’Doherty described some of the difficulties immigrants face and how we as residents of this diverse Jackson Heights area need to support all our immigrant neighbors. She said we shouldn’t separate people into “good” and “bad” immigrants, but support all immigrants regardless of their history or past mistakes. She urged us to educate ourselves about the old laws we haven’t paid attention to, but that now are being enforced. She urged us to get those laws changed. Her most important point was that our immigrant neighbors are afraid and they must know that we’re behind them.

The featured speaker was Suketu Mehta, author of This Land Is Our Land: An Immigrant’s Manifesto, and a professor of journalism at NYU. His book has been celebrated as a “powerful, passionate, angry, and hopeful cry for justice.” Mr. Mehta recounted several of the themes in his book. He began by saying that he wrote the book in response to the emergency in the United States and all over the world of immigrants arriving in large numbers. Never have more people immigrated than now. He explained that people are leaving their countries because rich countries have stolen the future from the poor countries. “We re the creditors. You’ve stolen from us and we’re here to collect. We’re here because you were there.” Europeans took from colonies and the colonies made Europe rich. After different wars, Western colonial powers drew lines on maps without considering where people actually lived. This has caused problems that continue to the present day. Now imperial colonialism has evolved into corporate colonialism.

Mr. Mehta continued by pointing out some causes of migration: wars, gang wars in the Northern Triangle of Central America, and climate change that ruins economies because of drought. There are estimates that 1 billion people will have to move during this century because of continuing climate changes.

He also told of his experience at Friendship Park on the border between San Diego and Tijuana. There is a fence of thick mesh separating the towns. Here loved ones from either side of the border can meet for only 10 to 15 minutes across the fence that has only enough space for people to touch pinkies, not enough space to touch or hug one another. This has been dubbed “the pinky kiss.” It is a situation that mocks the name of the park and is a subtle cruelty.

The people who fear immigrants are people who don’t know any immigrants. The truth is that immigration is good news because everyone benefits. Immigrants send remittances back to their countries of origin. Immigrants are young and have children and pay taxes that support Social Security for the aging population of the USA. Immigrants help themselves and start new businesses. So his message is that immigrants are good for the countries they enter.

The third speaker was Denise Romero, originally from Mexico and now living in Sunnyside, Queens. She is undocumented and a DACA recipient. Ms. Romero is currently a legal advocate and tenant organizer at Mobilization for Justice Legal Services. She described a recent encounter she had with Senator Chuck Schumer at a street fair in Sunnyside. (You can see a video of that encounter here.)  Ms. Romero challenged Senator Schumer because he was a sponsor of the Comprehensive Immigration Reform Bill and he proclaims he is a friend of immigrants. But Ms. Romero and others don’t see him as a friend of immigrants because the bill had too many compromises they could not support. The bill would only have helped some immigrants and would have pitted DACA kids against their parents.

Ms. Romero urged us to remember that 70% of immigrant families are mixed status, i.e., at least one family member is undocumented. She believes that if the government and Democrats aren’t ready to talk about the old laws (of the eighties and nineties) and the drug wars or abolishing ICE, then they aren’t really trying to help immigrants. She pointed out that none of the Democrats running for president are talking about immigration issues. So she urged us to pay attention to the candidates and to organize to force Senator Schumer and others to provide a real solution. Finally, she said the solutions have to come from those affected, so we have to back the young people. (See our post about the reactions to Ms. Romero's confrontation with Chuck Schumer.)

Following a song from Venezuelan folk singer Miriam Elhajli, the next speaker was Javaid Tariq. He came to the U.S. in 1990, escaping political repression in Pakistan. As a cab driver, he helped found the New York Taxi Workers Alliance to fight oppressive work conditions in the cab industry. Mr. Tariq explained that taxi drivers come from more than 100 countries and 60% to 70% of them are Muslims. The Alliance grew from 75 members to 22,000. After 9/11 there were crimes against the Muslim drivers, but his union stood up for those who were attacked. The Alliance fought for a Taxi Driver Protection Act, but it took 11 years before Mayor Bill de Blasio signed it into law. The union shut down JFK airport when President Trump initiated the ban against Muslims entering the U.S. Now they are fighting for economic rights for the drivers. Because of the tremendously high cost of medallions, many drivers are now deeply in debt. Congresswoman Ocasio-Cortez is trying to get loan forgiveness for the affected drivers. The New York Taxi Alliance is bringing awareness and urging drivers to stand up for themselves. Mr. Tariq believes all immigrants must stand together.

Next we heard from Terry Duprat a volunteer at the New Sanctuary Coalition (NSC). New Sanctuary Coalition has an accompaniment program that trains volunteers to accompany people facing deportation to their immigration court hearings and ICE check-ins. Volunteers accompany hundreds of people each year and thousands of NYC immigrant families have been supported by NSC’s social justice work.

Ms. Duprat has been accompanying immigrants to their court hearings for three years. She described how there have been significant changes to the procedures during that time. Families used to be able to see and touch the detainees. However, since August 2019 detainees only appear on video. They can see the judge, their lawyer, the DHS lawyer, but not the accompanier or their family members. This is very upsetting for the families. Ms. Duprat said during the previous week, she attended 17 hearings at the Foley Square courts. Some of the judges were on video in other states and had to be instructed about NY State laws. Although using videos has made the process quicker, it is alienating for the detainees. Also, the asylum application is long and it changes often. This whole process is very stressful for all involved.

After Miriam Elhajli sang Woody Guthrie’s song “Deportee,” we heard from the final speaker, Julie Schwietert Collazo. Ms. Collazo is a writer, journalist and a mother of three. She founded the grassroots collective Immigrant Families Together (IFT) in 2018. IFT works with an all-volunteer staff to bond out immigrants being held in detention and reunite them with their children and families. IFT has reunited over 75 children and families and provided resettlement and legal support to dozens more. She expressed her surprise that IFT has raised $2 million through its GoFundMe page although she didn’t have a specific monetary goal in mind at the beginning.

In order to illustrate some of the common events she encounters, Ms. Collazo described four cases. The first was the case of a woman whose asylum hearing Ms. Collazo planned to attend. When the judge realized that she was not biologically related to the woman, he didn’t want her to be there until the woman told him Ms. Collazo was part of her family by choice. Her asylum plea was denied within 90 minutes of the hearing.

Next Ms. Collazo related the series of bureaucratic mix-ups that prevented a man from getting the travel documents he needed in order to return to his country to see his dying mother. ICE had taken his passport and since it was his only means of identification, his consulate wouldn’t grant him the travel documents he needed to return to Honduras.

The third case was a boy denied entrance to school although the Department of Education had said he was assigned to the last seat available in that school. The school couldn’t understand why the DOE had sent him there. Many hours were spent to finally get the boy into a school.

The fourth case was how a foster care agency claimed a mother had to pay $1000 to pay for the flight and chaperone for her child to be reunited with her. Ms. Collazo had been in similar situations before and knew the agency was legally required to pay. So she was able to get the foster care agency to pay the plane fare for the child and chaperone. The child was successfully reunited with his mother after a separation of 14 years.

Ms. Collazo emphasized that although these cases represent absurd events, she said they are very common. In closing, Ms. Collazo mentioned that her husband had asked her why they keep going to events like this in Queens, the most diverse place in the United States and arguably one of the most progressive. Her responses highlighted that there is still work to be done, even in neighborhoods such as ours, but she also stressed the importance of coming together to renew our commitment to do that work.

The evening ended with Famoro Dioubate playing another song while audience members purchased books on their way out. Representatives of the Astoria Bookstore provided copies for sale of Suketu Mehta’s book This Land Is Our Land: An Immigrant’s Manifesto, as well as a variety of children’s books that could be purchased for children of families Immigrant Families Together has reunited. Each attendee received an envelope with material related to the work of the Jackson Heights Immigrant Solidarity Network, including “Ideas for Volunteering and Activism.”


 

Some Facts About Our Community

The NY State Comptroller’s Office recently released what they call “An Economic Snapshot of the Greater Jackson Heights Area.” This area includes East Elmhurst and North Corona.

The report highlights an increase in new businesses and business sales, marking a rebound from the 2009 economic crisis. The growth is attributed largely to immigrants. As the authors put it, “The greater Jackson Heights area’s large, vibrant immigrant community is the driving force behind the local economy.” The “Economic Snapshot” also includes a number of interesting facts:

  1. Immigrants make up 60% of the population of the Jackson Heights area–roughly 102,300 people. This is a much higher percentage of immigrants than the City as a whole (37%) or the US (14%).
  2. According to the US Census Bureau, the largest immigrant group in the Jackson Heights area today is Ecuadorans, making up 20% of the immigrant population, or about 20,800 people. The second-largest group is Dominicans, followed by Mexicans. Bangladeshis, Colombians, Peruvians, Chinese and Indians also made up significant shares. (Many people believe that the Census Bureau has undercounted the population of Jackson Heights, especially immigrants.)

  1. In 2017, more than 60% of residents (both native born and immigrant) considered themselves Hispanic, 19% Asian, 12% white, and 5% Black or African American.
  2. 81% of all residents of the area speak a language other than English in their home. At the same time, 84% of area children are proficient in English.
  3. Immigrants make up more than three quarters of the employed residents of the Jackson Heights area. The most common jobs are construction worker, housekeeper, janitor, taxi driver, retail worker, restaurant worker, administrative assistant and office clerk. The Jackson Heights area also has an unusually high level of self-employment (15%). 90% of the self-employed people are immigrants.
  4. Median household income in the Jackson Heights area is $56,600. This has been rising over the past several years. But it is lower in earning power than the median 2009 income level, because of inflation.
  5. 12.7% of households in Jackson Heights proper live in poverty, less than the City as a whole. The percentage is 18.8% in East Elmhurst and 19.5% in North Corona.
  6. Since 2009, median rent in the Jackson Heights area has grown by 26%, nearly three times faster than the growth in household income. 10% of households in the area are considered severely overcrowded.

The full State Comptroller report can be downloaded here.

 

 

JHISN In the News

Barbara Mutnick of the JHISN contributed to the Fall newsletter of the Jackson Heights Beautification Group, providing an overview of recent actions and policies against immigrants and how the Jackson Heights Immigrant Solidarity Network supports our immigrant neighbors.

 

“American”

This happened a long time ago, but it made a big impression on me:

I was a young white activist, recently moved to the US Southwest. An older Mexican guy named Oscar had taken me under his wing, helping me survive in a factory job that I had more or less faked my way into. Oscar knew a lot about the world, and we talked about politics all the time.

One day, I was yakking away about American foreign policy, and the relationship between America and Mexico, and he held up a finger. “You know, Mexicans are Americans too,” he said.

It was so obvious, but it stopped me cold. How could I have been so blind? What kind of arrogance does it take for a country to assign itself the name of a whole continent, as if all the other inhabitants of that continent didn’t matter?

Soon afterwards, I started getting involved in Latin America solidarity organizing, and I began to travel in Mexico. I studied Spanish, and got to know lots of Mexican and Central American activists. I noticed that none of them referred to US residents as “Americans.” Apart from slang words, they used two terms: “norteamericanos” (North Americans) or “estadounidenses” (United Statesians). The same terms were used in Latin American books, newspapers and magazines. They still are.

My Mexican and Central American friends didn’t make a big deal out of it when people from the US called themselves Americans. But they noticed who did, and who didn’t.

I try not to refer to this country as “America,” or talk about US residents as “Americans.” But it’s easy to fall back into that usage. I understand why most people in the US, like my younger self, don’t even consider it an issue. Because every aspect of our society is infused with “Americanism,” from our everyday speech, to the media, to patriotic songs. This is part of the imperial politics of language, which ultimately grows out of economic and military power.

In the Americas, far too often, might makes right. Habits of cultural arrogance and political domination have become entrenched over time. Normalized. In fact, these days I sometimes hear Spanish-speaking people refer to North Americans as “Americanos.” I’ve been told that in some parts of Latin America, this is normal usage; in other parts it’s considered insulting. (Few people in Latin America refer to this country as “America,” since that’s just confusing.)

Meanwhile, there have always been people inside the US who reject the label of “American.” For instance, some Indigenous people dislike the term “Native American,” which was first promoted by the US government. They have their own names for themselves and for the land. Why should they accept the name “America,” derived from Amerigo Vespucci, one of the European invaders? Some radicals of African descent refuse to call themselves “Americans.” They don’t wish to adopt the term that the slave owners and overseers used to describe themselves. Many people of Mexican heritage prefer not to be called “Mexican-Americans.” It seems redundant, and a denial that Mexicans were already Americans before the US seized half of their territory. For instance, my friend Oscar, a US citizen, insisted he was “Mexican,” period.

Everybody has to decide for themselves whether or not to use “America” to refer to the US, and “American” to refer to US residents. But I would argue that it’s something that deserves reflection, especially for those of us who support human rights for migrants.

We should at least pay attention to how those words sound in the mouths of our opponents. Anti-immigrant forces in this country talk about “defending America’s borders.” In August, Tucker Carlson of Fox News, speaking about the Central American caravans, asked his viewers, “Will anyone in power do anything to protect America this time, or will leaders sit passively back as the invasion continues?” Rush Limbaugh says that if the migrant “invasion” isn’t stopped, this country will lose its identity. “The objective is to dilute and eventually eliminate or erase what is known as the distinct or unique American culture.”

In these disgraceful passages, we witness Euro-Americans, descendants of settlers, describing other Americans, many of them indigenous to the continent, as outsiders to America, invaders of America and destroyers of American culture. This is a prime example of what psychologists call “neurotic projection”: Falsely accusing others of doing exactly what you did to them.

Anti-immigrant sentiment can be expressed in many ways, using different language. Plug “the US” into those sentences, and they are still reactionary. But it seems to me that Carlson and Limbaugh’s arrogant use of the term “American” is part of, and helps amplify, their racist message.

What do you think?

DS, 9/19

Don’t Panic! Public Charge Rule Changes

UPDATE – 11 October 2019: A Judge in New York has issued a nationwide preliminary injunction which stops the Department of Homeland Security’s “public charge” regulation from going into effect. This is a victory for immigrant families. The legal fight will continue, but for now, the rules in the United States have not changed.

18 September 2019: Yesterday afternoon, the New York Immigration Coalition held their Queens Town Hall on Public Charge. Changes to the Public Charge Rule are set to go into effect on October 15, 2019, though this may be delayed due to litigation. Fear and confusion have led many people, some of whom wouldn’t have been affected by these changes, to drop services and benefits they desperately need.

The Public Charge Rule is a test to determine if someone will become dependent on the government. It is assessed when someone applies for a green card or certain types of visas. The concept is not new; it has existed for over 100 years. However, since 1999, only two types of benefits were considered in the test—cash assistance (like TANF or SSI) and institutionalized long-term healthcare (like a nursing home).

When the changes go into effect in October, other criteria will also be considered, including SNAP (food stamps), subsidized housing assistance (Section 8 and public housing), and non-emergency Medicaid (but NOT healthcare services, the Essential Plan, Emergency Medicaid, or Medicaid for pregnant women and children). Immigrants who use these benefits could be considered a “public charge” and see their applications for green cards or visas denied.

Don’t panic. First, determine if you are affected by these changes. Many people aren’t. For example, if you are already a U.S. citizen, or you are a legal permanent resident (green card holder), or you are applying for U.S. citizenship, this rule change does not affect you. Do not withdraw from any services or benefits that you currently receive.

Similarly, if you are a refugee, asylee, Special Immigrant Juvenile (SIJ), T & U Visa holder, victim of domestic violence (VAWA), or have another humanitarian status, you are also exempt from the rule change.

The rule change affects only people who are applying for a green card or visas that are not exempt as listed above. Even if you may be affected, remember that public charge determinations are based on many different circumstances, including whether a person’s income, resources, age, family situation and health would lead to dependence on government assistance in the future. Being enrolled in benefits does not by itself make someone a public charge. If you are concerned about your situation, consult an immigration or benefits expert before disenrolling from any programs.

New Yorkers who have questions about the new rule can contact the Office for New Americans hotline at 1-800-566-7636 to receive more information and be connected to resources.

For further information, download the NYIC Public Charge flyer, available in several languages.

The Mayor’s Office of Immigrant Affairs also has a page on the Public Charge Rule.

 

 

How To Not Be Brave

By Jackie Orr, Activist and Member of the Jackson Heights Immigrant Solidarity Network

 

"I am not there to ‘aid.’ I stand in solidarity. We do not need medals. We do not need authorities deciding about who is a ‘hero’ and who is ‘illegal’ …. What we need are freedom and rights."
—Pia Klemp, captain of migrant rescue ship, arrested by Italian authorities in August 2017

The man, hands cuffed behind his back, was taken off the train platform by three uniformed border patrol agents wearing guns and bulletproof vests, and accompanied by a German Shepherd straining at the leash. The man’s encounter with U.S. Customs and Border Protection (CBP) was just beginning. I stood watching in the doorway of the Amtrak train car where the man had been a passenger; my own encounter with US Border Patrol was ending. The man is now being pressed through the US deportation machine. I am now sitting safely in my home writing you a story about what it might mean today to be a US citizen, watching non-citizens being detained, incarcerated, and cued up for deportation. What will we do besides watch?

My encounter with CBP began on the sidewalk outside the Amtrak station. A uniformed man approached me as I stood next to my luggage. With a friendly smile, he asked, “Are you a citizen of this country?” The sun was shining, and I was a white, middle class , fiftysomething, US citizen who had never before been asked this question by an official bulked out in militarized gear, smiling. For a moment I was speechless. Then a mental rerun began of several videos I had watched this summer, posted by people driving through border patrol checkpoints in the Southwest and exercising their rights. I said, “By what legal authority are you asking me that question?” The agent looked bemused and said he wasn’t in the mood to have that conversation. I said, “I refuse to answer your question.” He smirked and said, “You already did.” And walked away.

I followed him. Because I had watched those videos. Because the ghosts started dancing, ghosts of fascism and trains and uniformed men demanding identity papers. Because the smirk made me angry. Because he looked like a cold threat on a warm, sunny day. The agent entered the train station, and I kept following—and now saw two more uniformed CBP agents awkwardly standing around. I approached all three of them, again asking by what legal authority they posed their ‘citizenship’ question. In the 10-minute conversation that ensued, I learned some useful things. That US immigration agents since 1952 are allowed to  “search for aliens” on railway cars, ships, and other transport vehicles within a “reasonable distance” from the US border. That questions about citizenship status are a ‘consensual interaction,’ and the immigration agent is not permitted to in any way coerce a response. That three men with guns enjoy mocking a white woman citizen (no weapon) who asks questions.

My train was pulling into the station, and I went up to the platform. I was surprised to see one of the CBP agents boarding a train car ahead of me. I followed him. He was asking some people, not others, the question: ‘Are you a citizen of this country?’ When he entered the next train car, I followed him and said in a loud voice (I hoped no one could hear my voice shaking), “You are not required to answer the questions you are about to be asked. And if you are a US citizen, it may be useful to non-US citizens around you to refuse to answer this question.” The CBP agent then said, equally loudly, “If you are an alien and you do not answer my questions, you can be arrested.” My head spun with the illogic of what he was saying—how would anyone know you were undocumented if you remained silent and didn’t answer the question, which is the right of citizens and non-citizens alike? I stopped following him when I saw him exit the train car. And I thought everything was over.

It wasn’t over. A few minutes later, as the train was still held in the station, I entered another train car looking for a seat and saw a man, hands behind his back, being led down the aisle by a border patrol agent. My heart died. He was being taken off the train. “Is there a phone number you want me to call, to tell someone what has happened?” I cried out. Dying again inside because I could only speak English, not Spanish. The man looked at me with an extraordinary calmness, and shook his head. He was taken off the train and the two other CBP agents quickly appeared, one with a German Shepherd, and walked the detained man down the platform ramp, disappearing.

What happened in the next hours on that train? Two passengers passed me small folded written notes, thanking me for my “courage.” One of them, a Canadian citizen, wrote that she was shocked by what she had just witnessed, and that the man detained had two children, both of them still on the train and sitting a few seats back. Conversations with the two teenage children, shocked and red-eyed, now returning home on a train without their father. Google searches for more information on the legality of border patrol operations and stories of citizens’ resistance. Wait in line for the bathroom where a young woman, a recently naturalized citizen, tells me that when the border agents asked her if she was a citizen, it was the first time that her heart didn’t race, and she told them ‘Yes.’ But then she saw how they moved through the train car and arrested the man. And so she had spent the last 4 hours posting to friends, and searching Google about Amtrak trains and border patrol searches, and preparing herself to say something different next time. She says, “You were badass.” I say, “I was scared, I didn’t feel badass at all … I was angry and scared but I’d watched these videos that gave me ideas about what else to do.” Phone call to my partner, weeping, to say that nothing that I did made any difference; this man’s life was changed by being detained, while his children watched. Learning that a local immigration and refugee defense network had immediately sent volunteers to that train station—where five people had been detained before 12 noon. Weeping again, with an intimate gratitude, for all the people trying to resist.

“I am listening to what fear teaches. I will never be gone. I am a scar, a report from the frontlines, a talisman, a resurrection. A rough place on the chin of complacency,” writes Audre Lorde in 1988. Thirty years later, her words reverberate across this landscape of deportation terrors and immigration raids. How to create, individually and together, a ‘rough place on the chin of complacency’?  How to use fear’s lessons to mobilize the security and privilege of US citizenship in the name of immigrant freedom and rights? I write you this story from the safety of my home, in the shadow of a stranger’s detention and the haunting memory of his calm demeanor, performed in part for his children seeing him being handcuffed and taken away. I write you with the honest question, what can you do besides watch? Bravery is not required. You don’t need to be a hero. Find what you need to act. You can cry or tremble inside later … many of us do. But don’t think you are not needed. You are. We are. The time is here. To do everything that we can.