i feel sick to my stomach

This afternoon, my supervisor popped her head into my office as I was speaking with another counselor about her clients. She announced that we have an emergency situation that she just heard about. There is a young Muslim, immigrant woman who is pregnant and unmarried. She said that her parents are going to kill her if they find out (as this is punishable by death in the country she is from). I was asked by my supervisor to find a number for a local clinic that performs abortions and then to give her the information.

My supervisor left as quickly as she came in. V (the other counselor) said that she knew of a nearby Planned Parenthood that we could call. Then she looked at me, and must have seen the change in my face. "You're really disturbed by this aren't you?"

"V," I said, "I can't participate in this... If you want to do the research, that's up to you. But I cannot."

"Um, oh, ok. I'll do it. I have no problem with abortions," she said as she spun around in the seat and started looking up phone numbers on my computer.

I sat and looked at the ground. P, my Togolese coworker and Catholic sister in the faith listened, but kept on working on the document she was translating from french to english.

"This is really a touchy subject for you isn't it?" V asked over her shoulder.

"Yeah, it is," I said. Before I could say more, V commented, "Well, I guess everyone has their own beliefs."

"It's a human being not a belief!!" I exclaimed in my head, sitting uncomfortably in my chair. Instead of working to protect both mother and child, the solution presented was to get rid of the "problem" and to eradicate the evidence. I felt at such a loss for words at that moment. Even though I already knew that I'm in the minority on "religious" or "moral issues" such as that in my office, I have never come so close to the reality of it before. And it hit me pretty hard. I was hoping that P, as a sister in Christ, would share the angst that I felt.

After some moments of silence, P turned around in her chair and kind of sighed as she slowly got up in the way that she always does and adjusted her glasses. "Sometimes, this is just the way things have to be. I don't like it, but, that's the way it is."

Now it felt more like a personal defeat. I felt the weight of the irony that we, as an institution and as a program, put ourselves in the position to be advocates for some of the most marginalized people in our country; working to ensure that their human rights are protected. And yet...the most vulnerable of all, the unborn, are still viewed as expendable and undeserving of rights. In my mind, the issue of human rights for refugees, freedom of the slaves caught in human trafficking and the protection of the right to life for the unborn are all one in the same. Our society teaches us something different...

And still, feeling too discouraged to get into what could be an emotionally charged discussion, I said nothing, and only silently prayed for this 20 year old pregnant "woman" who I had never met, hoping that I would somehow be able to get information to her that she has other options.

"But let justice roll on like a river,
righteousness like a never failing stream....

You have lifted up the shrine of your king
the pedestal of your idols
the star of your god-
which you have made for youselves."

Amos 5:24, 26

a "typical" client

What is the "average" client (applying for asylum) like in the survivors of torture program?

I am usually in my twenties, sometimes a little younger, once in awhile a little older. Often, I come from Chad, or maybe Congo, or Kenya or a number of other places. Often, I'm Muslim; often I'm Christian. Typically, I'm male.

My story may be incredibly tragic. I might have lost my entire family. My world may have been turned upside down. I may have suffered unjust imprisonment, torture, rape or femal genital mutilation...because of my tribe, because of my religion, because I spoke out against the government, because of some obscure family relation I have to someone who was in power at one time. My spouse, parents or children may still be under threat in my home country, while I am here...waiting.

Or it may just be that I felt severely threatened by people or war in my country and I fled while I could. I got a student or tourist visa, sometimes at great cost or deception, and got out of there. I may not be able to prove that those threats were tangible however; or that I would still be under threat if I go back to my country. I may not have a good case...

I may live in Jersey City, Bayonne, Montclair, Paterson, Union City or Brooklyn. I may be living with 5 other people in one appartment, or relying on a friend from my country to pay some of my rent and give me food. I don't have the money to pay for anything like medical bills. I only receive Charity Care if I have to go to the ER, which scares me. But you can be sure that I almost always have a cell phone. I want to be able to have some sort of life here you know? And even though I'll accept a donated coat, I don't want to look like a refuge.
When you talk to me about my story, it may be hard to get anything out of me.

Rarely, I'll gush my story. Once in a while, it's hard to tell whether or not I'm making things up. Much more often though, there's a whole lot that happened to me that I can't bring myself to articulate. Typically, my roommates that I live with from my same country don't even know my story. We don't really talk that much...or trust each other.

You might see me sometime. In some instances, I attend english as a second language classes at a local community college to try to better myself for the future. More likely, I'm working 6 days a week for 12 hours a day, making 5 dollars an hour under the table. I may be your cashier, washing the dishes at the restaurant you ate at, or pumping your gas.

What do you think of me?

If I tell my story...

"I will live free if I tell my story..."

This is what it comes down to for asylum seekers in the states. It is both a beautiful statement, and a dreadful one.

Beautiful in that by merely proclaiming truth, revealing what was hidden, exposing evil and acknowledging the past publicly, a person may be able to experience freedom from persecution, torment and the threat of death for the first time in years...sometimes decades. The idea of claiming human rights, making a life for oneself and pursuing dreams can become a reality here in the states where it is not a reality in so many other places.

Dreadful in that by going through this process of applying for asylum, you are setting yourself up to face the firing squad of legal investigation, exposing your most vulnerable emotional, mental and sometimes physical wounds for many to see on numerous occasions, all while you may be suffering with too many symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder and culture shock to think straight or function normally. This is a process where you must relive coming face to face with your worst fears; the things that you are trying to escape from. Functioning on limited resources, often not understanding the english language, depending on others to navigate you through this process while your life is on hold for about 2 years; the odds are stacked against you in the post 9/11 American society. If you think this country is going to grant you asylum, you better have some pretty darn good evidence why your life is in danger and that you have no place else to go.

The therapists in our office have to be careful not to re-traumatize our clients by forcing them to speak about their past traumas when they are not ready, when they are suffering from the fight, flight or freeze mentality that kicks in (differently for each person) when you are severly threatened or traumatized and can linger for many years or even the rest of your life. At the same time, they must be mindful that the reality is these asylum candidates must recall their experiences and be able to testify about them down to the details in order to receive the protection they seek.

But, the light at the end of the tunnel promises freedom (for the percentage of asylum candidates granted). I hope that for most of our clients in Jersey City, they truly will be able to live free one day.

(Currently, most the clients I interact with are from Chad and other countries such as the Congo, Cameroon, Sierra Leone, Egypt, Kenya and Rwanda.)

What is Asylum? a blurb i wrote...

Criteria and Policy of the International Institute of New Jersey Assisting Clients in the Asylum Process

What is Asylum?
A person who leaves his or her country because of fear of harm or persecution can ask for a type of legal protection called “asylum”. Asylum in America is only granted after an interview by an asylum officer at the Department of Homeland Security or a hearing before an immigration judge. This officer or judge will be looking for evidence on why the asylum seeker is in danger in his or her home country and cannot go back. Persons applying for asylum have one year to file a case after coming in to the U.S. If granted asylum, the person will be considered a “refugee” under U.S. law. This means that the person can live and work in the U.S. and bring his or her spouse and children to this country. One year after receiving asylum, a person can apply for permanent U.S. legal residence.

Who can Apply for Asylum?
A person must be able to prove that he or she has a fear of persecution due to:
A) Race or Ethnic Group
B) Religion
C) Nationality
D) Social Group/Class
E) Political Opinion
F) Forced Abortion (or other coercive population control methods)

The immigration judge or asylum officer will be looking for tangible evidence of threats, torture, abuse, unjust imprisonment and other forms of persecution that happened to the asylum seeker while in his or her home country. The judge or officer will also want to see confirming documents, medical and/or psychological evaluations and a logically written personal statement (affidavit) that all help prove that the person is suffering from persecution due to one or more of the above reasons.

What We Can Do to Help You:
After an initial interview here at the counseling center of IINJ, we will try to help you as best we can through the asylum process. If you have a strong story about persecution or legitimate fear of persecution from your country because of one of the above mentioned things, we will do our best to support and coach you through the process by helping you to get a lawyer, write a testimony in the American legal style, translate documents and prepare you for your interview. We also have counselors available to meet with you individually or in groups to help you process what has happened in your situation, adjust to American society, and give advice about how to best move forward with your life. The counselors are an ear to listen to your story and will sit with you and give you counsel. We also can provide case management help in other areas such as health insurance, ESL, clothing and other areas of concern.
If we are able to assist you with your legal case to seek asylum status, we will help you to write a testimony and then send that testimony to a lawyer for review. Before a lawyer agrees to take your case for pro bono work (free of charge), he or she will want to make sure that your story is strong and credible. Should the lawyer decline to represent you, we will try again to find another lawyer. It is our policy that we will work with you to find a lawyer three times. If after the third time a lawyer interviews you and does not accept your case, we will advise you to seek a private lawyer if you still wish to apply for asylum before your one year date in the U.S.
Even if we are not able to help you to seek asylum in the U.S. and take you on as a client, we will still try to provide advice and referrals on the best course of action that you can do in your circumstance.

morning commute and the evil range rover

So, this morning, I was trying hard to make it to the train station by 7:15 so that I could get a space to park in the parking lot in Fairlawn where they've oversold parking permits (I have one). I got there somewhat late at around 7:25. I drive to the end of the narrow lot for non-resident parking, hoping against hope that I will still be able to get a spot, when low and behold, there is one left! I speed up a little to make it to my triumphal destination. To my great chagrin, a range rover pulls into the parking lot just in front of me. The color is red, like the devil, and on top of the vehicle is this ridiculous looking rack that looks like it's meant to hold a small sailing vessel. I knew what was coming. The damn car took my spot, and I had to, once again, park a block away behind this Panera and hope that no one notices or cares to tow my car like the menacing sign warns. As if I haven't done enough illegal parking already this year. I now officially don't like range rovers. (Sorry Tanya)

I also officially believe that the state of New Jersey sincerely has a wish to pollute the environment by being the worst discourager of mass transportation ever. I mean seriously, there is absolutely no easy solution for commuter parking. Even where there are places with reliable parking that actually allow non-residents to park there, you can hardly consider them affordable. (Oh right...I'm doing Americorps...)

What do I hope to be doing in 5 years? Am I on the path to getting there?

This past summer, after a long and arduous process of finishing my final integration paper encompassing my internship in Thailand last year, I was supposed to end it by answering the question: "What can I see myself doing/hope I will be doing in 5 years?" (Hmmm...I'd just like to know what I'll be doing next month...or next week...let alone in 5 years!) I couldn't answer the question specifically, but I did lay out principles that I had learned through that experience that I always hoped to live by. Now, post-grad, post-summer adventure in Europe, I am 2 months in to my job as a case manager in the Survivors of Torture department, working with clients mostly from north and central Africa at the International Institute of NJ and I confess that much of the time I don't know what I'm doing. Still, I am trying to live towards some of the goals I had set/hoped for myself, but when I stop to look at the big picture, I'm not sure how this is going.

I am certainly idealistic to a degree in the things that I wrote in that paper, and hope to remain so. However in the world of social work (especially with immigrants/refugees), I don't know how long being idealistic about "being the change" can last. Some long-term people in my office view myself and others new to this work as bright-eyed young people paying their dues to society and who then will go on to bigger and better things than styaing with a non-profit trying to remain afloat on almost non-existent funding and whose workers are jaded by the many stories they've heard, all the hoops that they and their clients have had to jump through and all the beauracratic crap and screwed up policies of our government. When the rubber meets the road and realism sets in, it's hard to keep from getting cynical and to remain optimistic about one's ideals.

Here are the thoughts I had written 6 months ago about where I hoped to be headed:
"Of all the principles learned through the HNGR program, the one I believe was ingrained in me most was identification with the poor. It is one thing to have sympathy; it is another to have empathy. After living in a community of women largely surrounded by poverty, I came to see them as my sisters, and my friends. Their faces and their voices will always be in my memory banks, reminding me of who they are and the circumstances that they have been born into. I am very aware that I do not deserve the life that I was born into and that I could have been born into their life. Now, after living with them, a part of my life is wrapped up in their narrative. This is something that I will never be able to shake.

As consequence, with every new opportunity I am given, I will think of them, and other women in the world like them who will have no such opportunity and who have no choice. With every situation of employment, every chance and means to travel, to enjoy a day in the city, take a dance class or receive more education, I will always remember what it feels like to be in a community of women who knew that I came from a privileged background, who felt somewhat jealous at the life I had and they didn’t have, and (for the most part) accepted me into their community anyway. I will never forget the sting of hearing about the pain of being abandoned or sold by parents, knowing that mine were always there for me and that I could not become a parental figure for them. With every major choice I make, I will think of life at New Life Center, the life that I briefly shared in, and will always remember the call to identify with those that are considered least in our world.

Beyond identification, I want to remain committed to both keeping myself informed and spreading awareness about global poverty and issues caused by it (specially human-trafficking) and also things that are happening in global missions. I have become extra-sensitive to messages of a health and wealth gospel because I have seen that God identifies with the lowly and does not desire to give us comfortable or “successful” lives by the world’s standards. I have also become sensitive to the discourse on global missions within the church and how the “first world” views going to the 2/3rds world to spread the Gospel and engage in other endeavors. I cringe every time I hear about someone coming back from a missions trip to the two-thirds world and having an “awesome” time. Perhaps, post-HNGR, I have become somewhat cynical towards people going overseas and having "blessed" or "amazing" experiences doing ministry. I am sensitive to our evangelical eagerness to jump overseas to preach before we are eager to listen, before we even stop to realize that there are probably (percentage-wise) a lot more genuine Christians in the global south than in our own country, that maybe what the "poor people" need is not a group of well-intentioned, but somewhat uninformed Americans showing up with medical supplies, beanie babies and tracts, but people who want to come into relationship with them, agendas aside. I am committed to use my education in anthropology and HNGR to find ways to change the attitudes of paternalism (specifically in the church) that exists in the west towards the non-west.

I also have learned and seen that there is power in giving people a voice. The ability to have your voice heard is both an agent of healing and a source of power. Whether this is pursued politically, relationally or through therapy, there is dignity given when the privileged and powerful humble themselves enough to quiet down and give voice to the poor. If I can practice and be an influence to those around me to listen to voices of the 2/3rds world, I will consider that success. I pray that in five years, God will have given me the grace to pursue a lifestyle where I can, in His strength, be an agent for change and redemption in whatever capacity He calls me to serve."

I'm not sure what I'm trying to say here. This is mostly just a reminder to myself to look at the big picture and to keep evaluating where my focus is in the light of where I want it to be.
There will be more to come on this...

A little irony

Not so long ago, I scoffed at online blogs. Why would anyone want to put their thoughts just out there like that for anyone to read? Who does that?

And now, ironically enough, I now have one.

Perhaps this is an attempt to keep in some kind of contact with many far-flung friends since college graduation. One of the things I enjoyed most about college was the open dialogue that happened all the time, in its many formal and informal settings. Now, living at home and doing the commuter 9-5 lifestyle (although I leave around 7 and get back closer to 6), I don't have a whole lot of opportunities to do that in the same way. I miss regularly engaging people in debate, reflection and provacative discussion. (Somehow, I don't feel a strong pull to try to engage my fellow train commuters in anthropological dialogue or stir up theological debate in my very religiously diverse office.)

But also, this is an attempt to give everyone a glimpse into the work that I am getting to do this year and the stories of people seeking asylum in this country that I interact with. Aside from a few close friends here (and immediate family) whose ear I have a tendency to talk off from time to time with my ramblings about work (and they graciously put up with me), it's hard to answer the question "What's your job like?" for friends that I don't get to catch up with very often, and whose insight I miss. There's too much to say. This year, much like last year, is a year of broadening my horizons of what is going on in the world, tearing down preconceived notions and trying to figure out what to do with the pieces.

So here I am, in blogging cyberspace, putting my thoughts out there for anyone to read. Who does that?