Category: Immigration

JHISN Newsletter 04/12/2020

Dear friends,

We reach out to you, again, in hopes that we might find new ways to connect even as our daily lives remain physically distanced from each other. Collective care feels urgent and particularly difficult now. Some of us woke up to the latest news about the unfolding tragedy in central Queens–Jackson Heights, Elmhurst, Corona. Our home.

The coronavirus, here as elsewhere, both reflects and deepens long-standing economic and racial inequalities. And the vibrant immigrant communities that are the life-blood of Jackson Heights are being decimated. We must join forces any way we can, collectively, with love and creativity.

Newsletter highlights:

  1. A look at the central role of immigrant labor in our healthcare infrastructure and in the battle to save lives during the COVID-19 crisis.
  2. The grassroots work of Queens Neighborhood United (QNU) during the pandemic, making visible the most vulnerable among us.
  3. An invitation to invent ways to sustain public memory and honor the neighborhood people being lost to the pandemic.

1. Healthcare workers and essential workers are immigrant workers

As we search for practices of solidarity in a global pandemic, our support for healthcare workers becomes especially important. Solidarity with healthcare workers is solidarity with immigrants. While the US healthcare system teeters on the edge of an almost unimaginable disaster, immigrant healthcare workers are doing their best to keep it from collapsing completely. As COVID-19 spreads through the US and the government closes its borders to non-US citizens, nearly 1.7 million foreign-born medical and healthcare workers are on the frontlines of the national crisis, according to the Census Bureau.

Source: Axios Health Apr 3, 2020

All told, about 25% of all US healthcare workers, and almost one-third of US doctors, are immigrants. Twenty-nine percent of nurses in the New York/New Jersey area are immigrants. Even the Trump administration has realized that the US needs this workforce right now:

Since it came to power, the Trump administration has waged a relentless, multi-layered war on immigration. But it only took a few days of panic over the spread of the novel coronavirus for the government to start seeing the value of at least some immigrant workers. In an announcement published on March 26, and promoted on its social media channels, the State Department called on foreign medical professionals who already have US visas to either move forward with their plans to come work in the country or, if they are already in the country, to extend their stay. Source: Quartz March 30, 2020

Nevertheless, incredibly, some 29,000 frontline medical workers who live under the tenuous protection of the DACA program (Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals), are facing the possibility of immediate deportation. The Trump regime has gone to the Supreme Court for final authorization to destroy this Obama-era program. Analysts say that the Court will probably side with the regime. Not much has changed since last November when Ian Millhiser wrote, “The fate of DACA and the approximately 670,000 immigrants who depend on DACA…appears grim.” The blow could come literally any day now.

Will we see ICE agents dragging health care workers out of Elmhurst Hospital in the middle of the pandemic? Or, as an op-ed in the New York Times speculates, will immigrant workers “be asked to serve in this crisis for now, only to be deported later”?

Meanwhile, Dr. Chen Hu, an Asian-American physician at NYU Langone Medical Center, describes what it feels like to be both “celebrated and villainized” during the pandemic: celebrated for his life-saving work for COVID-19 patients; villainized as a second-generation immigrant of Asian descent who is harassed on the subway as he heads to work in his blue medical scrubs.

WHAT CAN YOU DO?

  • At 7 pm each night, join your Jackson Heights neighbors by coming to your window to celebrate our amazing healthcare workers with cheers, applause, and pots ‘n pans!
  • Check out the work of Queens Feeds Hospitals. Local restaurants like The Queensboro and Senso Unico are closed, but they are taking donations and providing good meals to Elmhurst hospital workers.
  • Support the multi-pronged efforts to get personal protective equipment (PPE) to health workers
  • Join the #GetThemPPE hashtag campaign on Twitter
  • Sign and circulate the petition by the NY State Nurses Association demanding the Defense Production Act be put to full use for the mass production of PPE, COVID-19 tests, and other much-needed medical equipment.
  • Sign and circulate frontlineppenow’s change.org petition to urge our government, industry, media and the general population, to assist HCWs in obtaining immediate access to critical PPE
  • If you are a health care worker, please consider sharing your story about the lack of PPE with Frontline PPE Now.

2. Fighting Criminalization and Displacement with Queens Neighborhood United

Queens Neighborhood United (QNU) is a diverse, community-based organization founded in 2014 to address local issues including policing, immigration, community control of public land, and the growing economic displacement of small local stores by large chains (like Target).

Last weekend, QNU shared news with their 3,500 Facebook followers of police arresting three homeless people in Corona Plaza with no explanation. This action flies in the face of the CDC guidance, as reported by The Intercept: “Unless individual housing units are available, do not clear encampments during community spread of COVID-19.” Putting homeless people in jail, where physical distancing cannot be practiced, directly exposes them to the threat of contracting COVID-19. QNU reminds us that the CDC and WHO repeatedly state that “jails and prisons are extremely dangerous during a pandemic.”

QNU exemplifies another important aspect of true community support in a pandemic: Mutual Aid, a concept many people are becoming familiar with and mistakenly think of as some form of charity. The truth is that the best people to trust to organize Mutual Aid are the already existing grassroots groups, like QNU, who have been doing this work for many years. They have proven their leadership, advocating for the people in their neighborhoods with actions such as Rent Strikes. And they make community services available to the people who actually need them. These are the organizations that can best guide us in how and where to give our financial support during the crisis, because they are already trusted by and embedded within our communities.

WHAT CAN YOU DO?

These are the groups that QNU has identified as great to directly support. You don’t need to donate to every group (unless of course, you can), but pick at the one that resonates with you personally…and then ask your friends to do the same! Your network will help their network.

3. In Memoriam

Make the Road’s Trans Immigrant Project has been posting “Rest In Power” memorials for the trans activists in our neighborhood lost to COVID-19. The names of Jamilet Valente, Lorena Borjas, Liz Fontanez, and Yimel Alvarado may not be known to us in the same way as rich personalities who post on social media about their fun ways of dealing with social distancing at home, but they have had significant influence in our neighborhood. These activist women helped combat the ostracism and exclusions that transpeople suffered long before the current health crisis and the government is not to be relied upon to help replace these leaders and their programs with the emergency funding they will need to continue their work.

WHAT CAN YOU DO?

  • JHISN is looking for a creative way for everyone in our community to share the loss of friends, neighbors, and family in the pandemic and to do it in a way that is not as fleeting as social media. After 9/11 the posters of loved ones were seen throughout the city. But with shelter-at-home requirements, we cannot go out and pay homage the same way. Help us build an online solution that allows us to share our grief and memorialize those we mourn. Contact aniotus@outlook.com if you have ideas or want to help.

We wish everyone protection, safety, and well-being. Thank you for continuing to protect our wider and deeper home, in communities of care and solidarity.

Jackson Heights Immigrant Solidarity Network

 

 

Monitoring The Candidate Positions

Our group does not endorse candidates, because we believe our efforts are more inclusive, broad, and effective if we remain independent. We have monitored each candidate’s positions relevant to immigration policies and created a position tracker page on our website to help you see what they say about policies that impact immigrants.

Looking at a large field of candidates there are challenges to compare opinions. If the candidates say very similar things you can’t really discern any difference between them. If one takes a stance that differentiates them from the others, then we start to wonder – can they pull it off since it is not the consensus opinion?

Ultimately you need to ask yourself, can I determine if I like the candidate because of their policies, or because of their personality? Our position tracker gives you the opportunity to discover which candidate is most closely aligned to your own preferences.

We reviewed each candidate’s websites and opinion statements. We identified a number of policy areas that collectively every candidate had. Then we looked at each candidate again to see if they had stated an opinion on each area. If we could not find a clear opinion, or if the candidate’s statement is only a non-committal opposition to the current administration’s policies, then we indicate that the candidate has no opinion.

When you review our position tracker the names of the candidates are hidden from immediate view. This allows you to read all the positions independently of knowing who has the opinion. Pick the position you most agree with and then you can reveal the name(s) of the candidates with that opinion.

If you discover there are a couple of candidates that you like, you can also use our web tool to show all of the opinions of each candidate. You can then print them out and do a side by side comparison.


 

Public Charge: Latest Update

A letter from Nick Gulotta, Director of Outreach and Organizing, Mayor's Office of Immigrant Affairs:

Dear Community Leader,

I am writing to share an important update on the Trump administration’s public charge rule. As you may have heard, yesterday, the U.S. Supreme Court permitted the public charge rule to go into effect, while litigation over the rule continues. This means the public charge rule is in effect, for now, in New York and most places nationwide.

It is important to know:

·         The “public charge” test does not apply to everyone.

·         There is no “public charge” test for green card holders who apply for citizenship.

·         Free legal help is available. Call ActionNYC at 1-800-354-0365 and say “public charge.”

·         The public charge rule does not change eligibility requirements for public benefits.

·         The City's litigation against the "public charge" rule is not over.

What you can do: Attached is an updated flyer in English and Spanish to share with anyone who can use it. You can also post PSAs on social media and in newsletters from MOIA’s social media tool kit, and visit nyc.gov/publiccharge for updates. Translations will be posted on our website as soon as they become available.

Statement from the Mayor’s Office of Immigrant Affair’s Commissioner Bitta Mostofi:
“I am deeply troubled that the court has allowed this dangerous Public Charge Rule to go into effect, for now, placing the well-being of millions of families, children, the elderly, and people with disabilities at risk.  The City will do everything in its power to connect people to the resources they need and to help dispel the confusion the Rule has created.  It’s important to know that eligibility for public benefits has not changed and many immigrants are not affected by public charge. It is also important to know that the case is still being fought in court.  Don’t stop using public benefits unnecessarily.  If you are worried or have questions about immigration and public benefits for you or your loved ones, you can call the free, confidential ActionNYC hotline at 1-800-354-0365, or call 311 and say ‘Public Charge’ to access timely and trusted information and connections to legal help. The City is here to help you make a decision that is best for you and your family.”

Statement from Mayor Bill de Blasio:
“Immigrant New Yorkers are our neighbors, our friends, and our fellow parents. We cannot stand by while they are treated as less than human – expected to weigh putting food on the table against the need for a Green Card. The Trump Administration wants to scare us into silence, but this is New York City. We are still in court and we will not stop fighting for the rights of immigrants to feed their families.”

In community and solidarity,

Nick

More information can be found in this PDF, in ENGLISH and SPANISH.

 

 

 

Citizenship

If you stop and think about it, citizenship is a strange phenomenon. It’s an “official” status that gets assigned to each of us, for better or worse, based on lines on a map, and accidents of birth. It’s a way that governments separate and classify us. It can be the most ordinary, bureaucratic thing in the world—or a matter of life and death.

For most people who are born in the US, citizenship is automatic and routine. They don’t do anything to get it, and they rarely give it a thought. But for hundreds of millions of people, survival itself rides on citizenship. Citizenship can lock a person into a lifetime of hunger and fear, unable to cross borders to seek a better life. Or it can virtually guarantee the basic necessities of life, safety and opportunity.

Currently there are about 730 million people in the world living on less than $1.90 a day—what economists classify as “extreme poverty.” Virtually none of these people are US citizens. Meanwhile, 16% of Honduran citizens, 21% of Indian citizens, 22% of Laotian citizens, 23.5% of Haitian citizens, and over 77% of citizens of the Democratic Republic of Congo endure such destitution. All because of where they were born.

For many migrants, gaining US citizenship is a prized accomplishment. It’s not always possible to become a citizen, as we know. When it is possible, getting it often requires a difficult struggle. We should support migrants in this effort, admiring their fortitude and the sacrifices they make while seeking a better life for themselves and their families.

But we must also recognize that US citizenship often functions as a form of privilege in the world. Statistically, US citizens have a much higher standard of living, more options, and more personal security than most of the world’s people. Looked at historically, this is mainly due to the power and wealth of US imperialism, which has used military force and economic blackmail to dominate other lands. Most of the profits of imperialism go to a tiny percentage of super-rich monopolists. But some of the advantages go to ordinary US citizens, too.

Imperial privilege, infused with racism, was integral to the origin of the US. Citizenship was for white settlers only. It was based on genocide against Native peoples, their enslavement, and theft of their lands. (Native people weren’t legally considered US citizens until 1924.)

It should go without saying that African slaves weren’t US citizens. The first slave ship arrived in Jamestown in 1619. Only in 1868, 249 years later, did African Americans gain birthright citizenship. Nevertheless, their citizenship was questioned and restricted for generations after that, with many white politicians advocating Black deportation and promoting white nationalism.

The US seized half of Mexico in 1848. The 80,000 Mexicans living in the occupied territory became US citizens overnight, whether they wanted to or not. Those new citizens were still subjected to violent white racism; many were forced off their land or illegally deported in the following years. On the other hand, Mexicans who happened to live on the south side of the newly-imposed border became “illegal aliens”in the eyes of the US—restricted from crossing into the northern half of their own nation.

Ethnic Chinese people born in the US were denied birthright citizenship until a hotly-contested Supreme Court ruling in 1898.  Even then, Chinese and other non-white immigrants were strictly prohibited from becoming naturalized citizens of the US for decades—until 1952, to be exact.

We know that citizenship doesn’t guarantee equality. Nationally, women citizens didn’t get the right to vote until 1920. In 1898, nineteen years after the US invaded and occupied Puerto Rico, people born on the island were formally declared US citizens. But Puerto Ricans still can’t vote in presidential elections, unless they leave Puerto Rico to live in one of the States. They don’t get all the same federal benefits as other citizens, either. Similar restrictions apply to the residents of the US Virgin Islands, Guam, and the Northern Mariana Islands.

Meanwhile, the stark distinction between citizens and non-citizens inside US borders is a persistent feature of our society. Non-citizen residents face discrimination in many walks of life, whether they are in the US legally or not. On average, non-citizens make about 20% less in wages. They are frequently turned down for jobs that are reserved for citizens. Their immigration status makes them vulnerable to exploitation and police abuse. Legal residents may be denied important government benefits, such as retirement programs, welfare, health care, public housing, and access to higher education, all depending on a patchwork of arcane state and national laws.

The current US administration has recently activated a provision of the Patriot Act that allows them to imprison non-citizens forever, without trial, if the government considers them to be a “threat,” but finds them difficult to deport for some reason. (For instance, if their country of origin refuses to accept them.) Their status is considered to be similar to the prisoners in Guantanamo. No evidence of  an actual threat needs be proven—the government claims to have complete discretion when it comes to non-citizens.

Even when migrants do manage to become US citizens, that status can be taken away. Right now the government is ramping up a program called Operation Janus, started under the Obama administration, which actively attempts to deport people who are naturalized citizens, especially Muslims and politically active people. The Department of Justice looks for technical flaws, omissions or false answers in these citizens’ naturalization paperwork, often going back decades. The DOJ is working to literally undo the citizenship of people they don’t like. Operation Janus further illustrates the politicized and racially-determined character of US citizenship.

Citizen privilege obviously isn’t the only form of privilege that affects our society. White privilege has always played a particularly central role in this country. And male privilege infuses US society, like every society in the world today. There are other kinds of privilege as well. All these forms of privilege overlap and interact with each other in a variety of ways. In fact, the history of citizenship in the US, with its intimate connections to white supremacy, is a good example of this.

Recognizing that US citizenship is a privilege doesn’t mean disregarding other forms of privilege, or minimizing the oppression of citizens of color, women citizens, or any citizens struggling for equality, justice and a decent livelihood. Rather, it means adopting a global point of view. It means seeing our society through the eyes of billions of non-US citizens around the world who are struggling for those exact same things. Many of whom are migrants being driven from their homes by US imperialism.

Understanding US citizenship as a privilege helps inform our fight for migrant rights. It puts a spotlight on the fundamental unfairness of determining peoples’ fate according to where they were born, the color of their skin, or the color of their passport. It forces us to question the logic of today’s borders. How sacred are the lines on the map that were drawn by invaders and occupiers? Why can billionaire investors live and invest any where in the world, while ordinary people are prohibited from seeking a better life in another country?

By acknowledging that citizenship privilege in the US is intertwined with colonialism, we strengthen our determination to welcome and support migrants whose lives and livelihoods overseas have been devastated by US corporations and US government policies. This acknowledgement further motivates us to help reverse and repair colonialism’s damage, so that people can choose to stay in their home countries if they wish.

Finally, an awareness of citizenship’s history and role in the world underlines the responsibility of US citizens to make use of their own privilege in the battle for migrant rights. Citizenship’s advantages bring with them an obligation: to fight alongside those who seek, demand, and battle for an equal chance in life.

 

 

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.

 

 

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.