Sparta High School’s Nicolas Gomez earns a 4.2 GPA in his honors-courses-laden schedule, and he still finds time to participate in karate and track. He speaks both English and Spanish, a legacy of his parents, naturalized citizens who emigrated from Latin America over twenty years ago.
He speaks eagerly of his future, since he knows that he can fulfill his dream of attending a good college and becoming a civil engineer.
Like Nicolas, Anna*, a pretty seventeen-year old brunette, excels in high school. The soccer forward not only serves on her high school’s Student Council but also participates in the peer leadership group.
But Anna is quiet about her future – she knows she will not have the same opportunities as Nicolas. Anna probably will not be able to go to college. She will not be able to get a driver’s license like her friends, and she will not be able to find a good job.
Anna, like 65,000 other high-achieving high school students, is an immigrant without papers. She and her family used passports to travel to America legally in 1999; they hoped to apply for Legal Permanent Residence and eventually citizenship.
“With September 11, everything changed for us,” Anna’s mother, Clara*, explained.
“When we came here, we have dreams, especially for [our kids]…we always push them to finish school. We have hope that one day we will be citizens,” said Clara.
Anna knows that until then, college is a much harder goal, despite her good grades and extracurriculars.
Her older brother Miguel* was accepted into Rutgers, but the family couldn’t afford the higher out-of-state tuition they would have to pay. Scholarships didn’t help, either; even though he earned them, he couldn’t accept any, because he did not have a social security number.
“When we work, we pay taxes, but nobody expects that,” said Clara. “They think we steal, but that’s not true. We pay taxes; we work just like any other American.”
“It’s very frustrating to know there are so many possibilities, but you can’t get them,” said Maria*, a high-achieving, undocumented Sparta High graduate.
These students represent over one million high schoolers across the United States who are children of undocumented immigrants. They did not choose to come to America – their parents did – and they have lived almost their entire lives here.
“I left when I was seven, so I don’t remember much,” said Anna. In fact, many undocumented children barely speak Spanish anymore, so forging a successful life in their native country is not a possibility.
Schools are often unaware that they are enrolling undocumented students.
“If they’re residents of Sparta, we have to enroll them…as far as what parents are revealing, that’s not something we typically track. As far as visa cards or green cards, we don’t have to check that,” said Stan Abramavage, the Director of Guidance for Sparta High School.
Maria wishes her American peers understood all of the opportunities available to them; she doesn’t comprehend why so many American students do not go to college.
“Education is something nobody can take away from you.”
*Names have been changed.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Before anything, I'd like to let people know that two of my articles - the first and the fourth -- have been published so far. They've made it into the Sparta Independent and some of the other local Straus News papers, thanks to JoAnn Baker. At Bruce Schimmel's suggestion, I posted the links to each of those articles beneath their corresponding post on this website. So, the link to the first article is posted as a comment under the post that includes the first article, etc.
It's strange to think that I only have one week left officially in this project. (of course, I hope to follow up with people and keep in touch, as well as continue learning about the subject.) I didn't really know what to expect when I started, and I was nervous; despite my previous journalism experience, I'd never undertaken a project of this magnitude. I definitely learned a lot more about research in general, and I'm very happy with the knowledge I've gained -- both in terms of immigration and also, of course, journalism.
I'm going to save what I've learned about Northern New Jersey immigration (and the broader migration picture)for my final post, but I'd like now to address some of what I've learned journalistically. Stylistically, Ms. Baker has been a fantastic resource. I hadn't written for a newspaper for a while before this summer, and I had definitely developed a more academic style, so I really appreciated learning some of the finer points of how to write for a paper.
One of the most enjoyable aspects for me was being able to have confidential sources. Since many of the people I wanted to talk with were undocumented immigrants, I was definitely concerned with how I would protect them; I was thrilled that Ms. Baker was willing to trust me enough to extend to me that privilege. It also taught me a lot about having other sources of information to verify knowledge/facts gained from the confidential sources -- I hadn't really considered any of those details before.
I also learned the importance of persistence and following up with people. In the past, most people were eager to talk to me for articles I had to write, but that wasn't always the case this time: several people would not return my calls. Moreover, I had several cases where officials often just forgot to call back. I've always been the type of person who doesn't like to bother people, so I had to overcome my reluctance to "pester". Being persistent certainly paid off; it got me interviews with county officials and a couple of migrants who had been initially hesitant to talk.
Finally, I learned a lot about leads. Most of my previous work experience consisted of profiles and features -- it didn't require a lot of digging. This time around, though, I definitely had to rely on incoming information and move from one fact to another. Many of my stories and ideas emerged from small asides or afterthoughts that people would make in conversations. For example, that's how I learned of the Costa Rican family that I interviewed, and they're going to be the focus of the final article.
Once again, I'd like to thank everyone who's been involved and made this possible!
It's strange to think that I only have one week left officially in this project. (of course, I hope to follow up with people and keep in touch, as well as continue learning about the subject.) I didn't really know what to expect when I started, and I was nervous; despite my previous journalism experience, I'd never undertaken a project of this magnitude. I definitely learned a lot more about research in general, and I'm very happy with the knowledge I've gained -- both in terms of immigration and also, of course, journalism.
I'm going to save what I've learned about Northern New Jersey immigration (and the broader migration picture)for my final post, but I'd like now to address some of what I've learned journalistically. Stylistically, Ms. Baker has been a fantastic resource. I hadn't written for a newspaper for a while before this summer, and I had definitely developed a more academic style, so I really appreciated learning some of the finer points of how to write for a paper.
One of the most enjoyable aspects for me was being able to have confidential sources. Since many of the people I wanted to talk with were undocumented immigrants, I was definitely concerned with how I would protect them; I was thrilled that Ms. Baker was willing to trust me enough to extend to me that privilege. It also taught me a lot about having other sources of information to verify knowledge/facts gained from the confidential sources -- I hadn't really considered any of those details before.
I also learned the importance of persistence and following up with people. In the past, most people were eager to talk to me for articles I had to write, but that wasn't always the case this time: several people would not return my calls. Moreover, I had several cases where officials often just forgot to call back. I've always been the type of person who doesn't like to bother people, so I had to overcome my reluctance to "pester". Being persistent certainly paid off; it got me interviews with county officials and a couple of migrants who had been initially hesitant to talk.
Finally, I learned a lot about leads. Most of my previous work experience consisted of profiles and features -- it didn't require a lot of digging. This time around, though, I definitely had to rely on incoming information and move from one fact to another. Many of my stories and ideas emerged from small asides or afterthoughts that people would make in conversations. For example, that's how I learned of the Costa Rican family that I interviewed, and they're going to be the focus of the final article.
Once again, I'd like to thank everyone who's been involved and made this possible!
Friday, July 31, 2009
Living the American Dream
Lelia Gomez never planned to stay in America. She came at 21 from Ecuador to learn English, to help with her computer science studies.
“I came to New York [City], and I saw this horrible place. It was snowing, it was construction. The train was horrible, and the garbage cans were outside.”
Now she’s an American citizen in her forties.
"I fell in love and got married. And now I have a husband and three kids,” she said.
Gomez met her husband, Andres, when she applied for a bilingual position in his uncle’s video store. Andres was her supervisor, and they got started talking because she had trouble keeping the right change.
"I couldn’t understand why dimes were smaller than nickels,” she laughed.
Today the couple lives the American dream: once immigrants, now they are wealthy, upper middle class residents living in a lovely Sparta home. Lelia is the Director of Newton-based El Refugio, the outreach center dedicated to helping Sussex County’s immigrant population.
Andres works for Accenture, where he helps modernize companies and improve their efficiency. He moved to New York City from Colombia the day after he graduated high school, so that he could be with his mother.
“He’s more American than you are,” a Hispanic neighbor said of Andres. “We call him ‘gringo’.”
In fact, after Andres’ first year in America, he joined the American army. He wasn’t even a citizen.
Once married, he and Lelia lived in New York City for seven years, while Andres went to Queens College at night.
The couple moved to New Jersey – first Denville, and then Sparta – for better schools for their three sons, Andres, Nicolas, and Sebastian.
“I want a better education,” said Nicolas. The high school student shines at Sparta: he carries a 4.2 GPA and participates in both track and karate.
Lelia wants her family to maintain its heritage, so Nicolas also is bilingual; his brothers are too.
“My kids are very Hispanic when it comes to food and everything,” said Lelia.
Still, the Gomez family’s experience is different from many immigrants. “We didn’t come here because we were hungry,” Lelia said.
“We lived in developed cities, had good educations…so it wasn’t that big of an adjustment, just the language,” added Andres.
Lelia wants struggling immigrants to have the same opportunities she did, so she works at El Refugio. She started in outreach work when she met Pam Madzy at Blessed Kateri, before moving to El Refugio, where she worked her way up to Director. There, she coordinates ESL classes and notary services, translates documents, partners with other outreach programs, and advocates for less fortunate migrants.
“Sometimes I lose patience, and I say to Pam, ‘how do you do it?’” Lelia said. “How am I going to help 50 women? That’s when I get discouraged.”
Despite all the difficulties, Lelia remains dedicated to her work. She misses Ecuador – she still doesn’t like hamburgers or American weather -- but, like most immigrants, she wouldn’t change her decision to stay.
“The kids, this is their country. They love going here.”
“I came to New York [City], and I saw this horrible place. It was snowing, it was construction. The train was horrible, and the garbage cans were outside.”
Now she’s an American citizen in her forties.
"I fell in love and got married. And now I have a husband and three kids,” she said.
Gomez met her husband, Andres, when she applied for a bilingual position in his uncle’s video store. Andres was her supervisor, and they got started talking because she had trouble keeping the right change.
"I couldn’t understand why dimes were smaller than nickels,” she laughed.
Today the couple lives the American dream: once immigrants, now they are wealthy, upper middle class residents living in a lovely Sparta home. Lelia is the Director of Newton-based El Refugio, the outreach center dedicated to helping Sussex County’s immigrant population.
Andres works for Accenture, where he helps modernize companies and improve their efficiency. He moved to New York City from Colombia the day after he graduated high school, so that he could be with his mother.
“He’s more American than you are,” a Hispanic neighbor said of Andres. “We call him ‘gringo’.”
In fact, after Andres’ first year in America, he joined the American army. He wasn’t even a citizen.
Once married, he and Lelia lived in New York City for seven years, while Andres went to Queens College at night.
The couple moved to New Jersey – first Denville, and then Sparta – for better schools for their three sons, Andres, Nicolas, and Sebastian.
“I want a better education,” said Nicolas. The high school student shines at Sparta: he carries a 4.2 GPA and participates in both track and karate.
Lelia wants her family to maintain its heritage, so Nicolas also is bilingual; his brothers are too.
“My kids are very Hispanic when it comes to food and everything,” said Lelia.
Still, the Gomez family’s experience is different from many immigrants. “We didn’t come here because we were hungry,” Lelia said.
“We lived in developed cities, had good educations…so it wasn’t that big of an adjustment, just the language,” added Andres.
Lelia wants struggling immigrants to have the same opportunities she did, so she works at El Refugio. She started in outreach work when she met Pam Madzy at Blessed Kateri, before moving to El Refugio, where she worked her way up to Director. There, she coordinates ESL classes and notary services, translates documents, partners with other outreach programs, and advocates for less fortunate migrants.
“Sometimes I lose patience, and I say to Pam, ‘how do you do it?’” Lelia said. “How am I going to help 50 women? That’s when I get discouraged.”
Despite all the difficulties, Lelia remains dedicated to her work. She misses Ecuador – she still doesn’t like hamburgers or American weather -- but, like most immigrants, she wouldn’t change her decision to stay.
“The kids, this is their country. They love going here.”
Thursday, July 23, 2009
I recently visited with an immigrant family from Costa Rica. The wife and husband have four kids: three girls and one boy, all high school age or older. None of them has any papers. I'm changing their names to protect their identity, and I'm going to feature their children in the final article of this series (about immigrant childern in our school systems).
But I'd like to share some of their story now, especially since I won't be able to tell all of it in the article.
Clara and her husband, Salvador, came to America in 1999 with their four children -- the eldest, Maria, their son Miguel, and the two younger daughters, Anna and Emilia. The family flew into the US legally, passports and all, expecting to obtain their Legal Permanent Residence (LPR) papers, if not US Citizenship.
9/11 destroyed their dreams. Subsequent legislation, passed in a reaction to the terrorist attacks, changed immigration laws and prevented the family from gaining the necessary paperwork. Now they live in Sussex County "illegally," with no hope of becoming American citizens -- unless they return to Costa Rica, and hope against the odds to get readmitted into the US.
Clara and her family were very candid about life without proper identification. Clara, Salvador, Maria, and Miguel were able to obtain Driver's Licenses five years ago. New Jersey ID requirements were too strict even back then, though, so the four had to fly to Michigan to get them. The licenses expire this year, on each person's date of birth. Salvador's is already expired; it cost him his job as a truck driver. Clara's won't be usable in a couple of months, and she's not sure how she'll be able to get to her job in Sparta. (The other states have caught up to NJ requirements, so the family won't be able to renew their licenses.)
Anna, the middle daughter, is entering her junior year in high school. She plays on her school's soccer team and is a member of both the Student Council and Peer Leadership programs. Her friends don't know her situation, and she knows she'll face tough questions when she is the only one without a license. Evem thornier is the issue of what she'll do after graduation, since she won't be able to attend college like her classmates.
Despite the difficulty of their life, Clara and her family were adamant that I know that they pay taxes. "When we work, we pay taxes, but nobody expects that. They think we steal, but that's not true. We pay taxes, we work just like any other American," Clara explains. Salvador adds, "We pay rent, we pay bills...it's the same for so many families we know."
Clara and Maria explained that they pay taxes using a tax ID number. (I'm still trying to corroborate this information.) They told me that immigrants often apply to the IRS -- and immigration services is apparently unaware of this -- for the tax ID. Since IRS wants the migrants' tax money, it issues the number, which the workers then use to obtain jobs and pay taxes. (Many jobs require more than just a tax ID number, though; most need a SSN.)
When I asked why they stay, despite all of the hardships, Clara told me this: "When we came here, we came happy, with all of our hope..We stay here because we know it's difficult for [our kids] to go back. They have all their friends here. Here is a better life."
Salvador just laughed. "I wanted to go back," he confesses. "Every year, you say maybe this year, maybe this president...without papers, you can get jobs, but no good jobs... But here, if things aren't easy, every Latin American country, it's worse. The economy's no good, the job's no good. I talk with my sister, and she says 'No, stay here, fight.'"
But I'd like to share some of their story now, especially since I won't be able to tell all of it in the article.
Clara and her husband, Salvador, came to America in 1999 with their four children -- the eldest, Maria, their son Miguel, and the two younger daughters, Anna and Emilia. The family flew into the US legally, passports and all, expecting to obtain their Legal Permanent Residence (LPR) papers, if not US Citizenship.
9/11 destroyed their dreams. Subsequent legislation, passed in a reaction to the terrorist attacks, changed immigration laws and prevented the family from gaining the necessary paperwork. Now they live in Sussex County "illegally," with no hope of becoming American citizens -- unless they return to Costa Rica, and hope against the odds to get readmitted into the US.
Clara and her family were very candid about life without proper identification. Clara, Salvador, Maria, and Miguel were able to obtain Driver's Licenses five years ago. New Jersey ID requirements were too strict even back then, though, so the four had to fly to Michigan to get them. The licenses expire this year, on each person's date of birth. Salvador's is already expired; it cost him his job as a truck driver. Clara's won't be usable in a couple of months, and she's not sure how she'll be able to get to her job in Sparta. (The other states have caught up to NJ requirements, so the family won't be able to renew their licenses.)
Anna, the middle daughter, is entering her junior year in high school. She plays on her school's soccer team and is a member of both the Student Council and Peer Leadership programs. Her friends don't know her situation, and she knows she'll face tough questions when she is the only one without a license. Evem thornier is the issue of what she'll do after graduation, since she won't be able to attend college like her classmates.
Despite the difficulty of their life, Clara and her family were adamant that I know that they pay taxes. "When we work, we pay taxes, but nobody expects that. They think we steal, but that's not true. We pay taxes, we work just like any other American," Clara explains. Salvador adds, "We pay rent, we pay bills...it's the same for so many families we know."
Clara and Maria explained that they pay taxes using a tax ID number. (I'm still trying to corroborate this information.) They told me that immigrants often apply to the IRS -- and immigration services is apparently unaware of this -- for the tax ID. Since IRS wants the migrants' tax money, it issues the number, which the workers then use to obtain jobs and pay taxes. (Many jobs require more than just a tax ID number, though; most need a SSN.)
When I asked why they stay, despite all of the hardships, Clara told me this: "When we came here, we came happy, with all of our hope..We stay here because we know it's difficult for [our kids] to go back. They have all their friends here. Here is a better life."
Salvador just laughed. "I wanted to go back," he confesses. "Every year, you say maybe this year, maybe this president...without papers, you can get jobs, but no good jobs... But here, if things aren't easy, every Latin American country, it's worse. The economy's no good, the job's no good. I talk with my sister, and she says 'No, stay here, fight.'"
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Immigrant Women Help Others Find the American Dream
Twenty five years ago, Luz Quintero was attending college in her native Colombia, when her father told her that he could only afford for her younger brother to get a degree. She was a girl – she wouldn’t need one.
Luz’s grandfather gave her his savings and told her to go to America to get an education. Only twenty one years old, she made the journey to New Jersey where she went to work for a cleaning service. Her boss let her take daily English classes at a local library.
“I’m still learning,” she laughs.
Now Luz works for Early Head Start, particularly with migrant families and their children. She also donates her time to Newton-based El Refugio and the Migrant Ministry at Sparta’s Blessed Kateri.
“Unless you come here illegally, you don’t understand how difficult life can be for [the undocumented] immigrants,” she says of why she works with the outreach programs.
And Luz does understand. She crossed the border illegally and lived without documents for three years, until she was able to obtain legal residency in 1988 under an amnesty program.
Luz earned her US citizenship in 2004, after waiting eight years because of misplaced paperwork.
“I am an immigrant also, and I wanted to be able to help other people when they come here,” she explains. “For me, it was a way to give back what I received when I came here.”
Lelia Gomez and Libia Eichler, both Sparta residents, feel the same way.
Lelia came to America from Ecuador in her early twenties to learn English. She didn’t plan to stay in the US, but she met her husband and fell in love.
For over two years, the mother of three has been the director of El Refugio.
“I believe everybody should have an opportunity,” says Gomez.
“As human beings, we all want something better for our families,” adds Eichler. Libia is an outspoken grandmother of three who volunteers for Blessed Kateri’s Migrant Ministry as a translator for the Hispanic Network Hotline and a driver for immigrants who need to get to doctors’ appointments.
Libia came to America thirty five years ago, before outreach programs had really emerged to help migrants. She barely spoke the language, but she came to be with her husband, an American traveling on business whom she met and married in Peru.
“I learned to rely on myself, I think…I went through a lot of changes very quickly.”
All three women agree that conditions for immigrants today differ drastically from when they came to America.
“I find that it’s harder now…I didn’t have papers, and I was working for a company, doing cleaning. I had a stable job,” Luz offers. “I feel like [now] it’s more a stigma that you’re Spanish, and not everyone has that opportunity that I had.”
There is no amnesty program that gives undocumented immigrants the chance to assimilate into American society.
“They want the opportunity to work…and to not be afraid. So, they try not to show their faces,” Libia states.
Despite the challenges posed by working in outreach programs for migrants, these women love being able to help those struggling to build a life in America.
“They give me more than what I have given them,” exclaims Eichler.
Luz lights up when she talks about her job, the enthusiasm evident in her voice. “Doing my job now is just my dream come true.”
Luz’s grandfather gave her his savings and told her to go to America to get an education. Only twenty one years old, she made the journey to New Jersey where she went to work for a cleaning service. Her boss let her take daily English classes at a local library.
“I’m still learning,” she laughs.
Now Luz works for Early Head Start, particularly with migrant families and their children. She also donates her time to Newton-based El Refugio and the Migrant Ministry at Sparta’s Blessed Kateri.
“Unless you come here illegally, you don’t understand how difficult life can be for [the undocumented] immigrants,” she says of why she works with the outreach programs.
And Luz does understand. She crossed the border illegally and lived without documents for three years, until she was able to obtain legal residency in 1988 under an amnesty program.
Luz earned her US citizenship in 2004, after waiting eight years because of misplaced paperwork.
“I am an immigrant also, and I wanted to be able to help other people when they come here,” she explains. “For me, it was a way to give back what I received when I came here.”
Lelia Gomez and Libia Eichler, both Sparta residents, feel the same way.
Lelia came to America from Ecuador in her early twenties to learn English. She didn’t plan to stay in the US, but she met her husband and fell in love.
For over two years, the mother of three has been the director of El Refugio.
“I believe everybody should have an opportunity,” says Gomez.
“As human beings, we all want something better for our families,” adds Eichler. Libia is an outspoken grandmother of three who volunteers for Blessed Kateri’s Migrant Ministry as a translator for the Hispanic Network Hotline and a driver for immigrants who need to get to doctors’ appointments.
Libia came to America thirty five years ago, before outreach programs had really emerged to help migrants. She barely spoke the language, but she came to be with her husband, an American traveling on business whom she met and married in Peru.
“I learned to rely on myself, I think…I went through a lot of changes very quickly.”
All three women agree that conditions for immigrants today differ drastically from when they came to America.
“I find that it’s harder now…I didn’t have papers, and I was working for a company, doing cleaning. I had a stable job,” Luz offers. “I feel like [now] it’s more a stigma that you’re Spanish, and not everyone has that opportunity that I had.”
There is no amnesty program that gives undocumented immigrants the chance to assimilate into American society.
“They want the opportunity to work…and to not be afraid. So, they try not to show their faces,” Libia states.
Despite the challenges posed by working in outreach programs for migrants, these women love being able to help those struggling to build a life in America.
“They give me more than what I have given them,” exclaims Eichler.
Luz lights up when she talks about her job, the enthusiasm evident in her voice. “Doing my job now is just my dream come true.”
First, I'd like to thank everybody who has given me feedback on this blog. Your comments have been very helpful, and I'm really happy that everyone is enjoying it so much. Please feel free to post comments on the website, or send me an email (immigrantperspectives@gmail.com) with suggestions, thoughts, etc.
Second, I'm thrilled that word of what I'm doing - and what the people I'm writing about are doing - is really starting to get around. Pam told me yesterday that, after the article on Blessed Kateri was published in the Sparta Independent, she got a call from a man who wanted to volunteer. I hope that more people respond similarly, but even one person makes a difference.
Several of my mom's colleagues live in Sparta, and they have been talking to her about my article and blog as well. It's interesting to see what they care about: one woman told my mom that she didn't care how the immigrants got here, so long as they paid taxes. Most people don't realize that immigrants, documented or undocumented, do in fact pay taxes. Not only do they pay sales taxes whenever they purchase something, but they also contribute to Social Security. Undocumented immigrants are actually the biggest contributer to the Social Security fund, because they pay Social Security taxes but never get to collect.
One colleague, a legal secretary who asked to remain anonymous, told me a story about immigration in Worthington, Minnesota, where her mother lives and works in an outreach organization. I'd like to tell it here, as well. I know that the focus of the blog is immigration in Northern New Jersey, but what happened in Minnesota occurs across the country; I think that it's an issue more people should be aware of.
So, here it goes:
Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) officials rounded up several Mexicans who had been working illegally in a food processing plant in Worthington. The immigrants were deported, although many had children living in Minnesota. The children were left floundering, so local churches and community members stepped in to care for them. It is unclear whether the children were ever reunited with their families.
"In Marshall the... company (which is no longer there) would "advertise" with big signs in Mexico (several immigrants told my Mom about this) telling people to come to Marshall to work at [the turkey processing plant] for good wages. It was up to the people to sneak across the border and make their way to Marshall. Mom witnessed several times over the years her museum was located in the County Courthouse building, across a parking lot from [the company's], that an open bed pickup truck with INS on it would pull up to [the plant], load Mexican workers into the open bed and drive away. At the same time other Mexicans would be going in another door to take the place of the arrested workers," she explains. "The money paid was a lot of money to the Mexicans, so they kept coming, risking arrest, etc. The immigrants who told my Mom about this said when workers left Mexico to make their way to Marshall for those jobs, they believed it would be o.k. since an American company was advertising for them to come. The company was never to her knowledge fined or found to be knowingly hiring illegals."
Second, I'm thrilled that word of what I'm doing - and what the people I'm writing about are doing - is really starting to get around. Pam told me yesterday that, after the article on Blessed Kateri was published in the Sparta Independent, she got a call from a man who wanted to volunteer. I hope that more people respond similarly, but even one person makes a difference.
Several of my mom's colleagues live in Sparta, and they have been talking to her about my article and blog as well. It's interesting to see what they care about: one woman told my mom that she didn't care how the immigrants got here, so long as they paid taxes. Most people don't realize that immigrants, documented or undocumented, do in fact pay taxes. Not only do they pay sales taxes whenever they purchase something, but they also contribute to Social Security. Undocumented immigrants are actually the biggest contributer to the Social Security fund, because they pay Social Security taxes but never get to collect.
One colleague, a legal secretary who asked to remain anonymous, told me a story about immigration in Worthington, Minnesota, where her mother lives and works in an outreach organization. I'd like to tell it here, as well. I know that the focus of the blog is immigration in Northern New Jersey, but what happened in Minnesota occurs across the country; I think that it's an issue more people should be aware of.
So, here it goes:
Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) officials rounded up several Mexicans who had been working illegally in a food processing plant in Worthington. The immigrants were deported, although many had children living in Minnesota. The children were left floundering, so local churches and community members stepped in to care for them. It is unclear whether the children were ever reunited with their families.
"In Marshall the... company (which is no longer there) would "advertise" with big signs in Mexico (several immigrants told my Mom about this) telling people to come to Marshall to work at [the turkey processing plant] for good wages. It was up to the people to sneak across the border and make their way to Marshall. Mom witnessed several times over the years her museum was located in the County Courthouse building, across a parking lot from [the company's], that an open bed pickup truck with INS on it would pull up to [the plant], load Mexican workers into the open bed and drive away. At the same time other Mexicans would be going in another door to take the place of the arrested workers," she explains. "The money paid was a lot of money to the Mexicans, so they kept coming, risking arrest, etc. The immigrants who told my Mom about this said when workers left Mexico to make their way to Marshall for those jobs, they believed it would be o.k. since an American company was advertising for them to come. The company was never to her knowledge fined or found to be knowingly hiring illegals."
Friday, July 10, 2009
My visit with Lelia Gomez and her family has changed some of my plans for the remaining articles. I had initially planned to use the interview to understand more of Lelia's background, to learn why she decided to work with migrants; I'd use the information to put together a piece on her and other immigrants who dedicate their time to helping less privileged migrants.
My visit changed some of that. I went to Lelia's house for dinner and an interview, and I gained a glimpse into the life of people from other countries who have (legally) made America their permanent home. Lelia's husband, Andres, and her two sons, Nicolas and Sebastian -- I apologize for the lack of accents, by the way, but they don't exist in this html editor -- were kind enough to welcome me and share their thoughts and experiences with me. One of her neighbors, Pablo, came over with most of his family, unexpected visitors who entered without knocking and were greeted warmly. They, too, talked with me and shared stories: Pablo's father told me about both Cuba before Castro and also life in his native country, Colombia.
I knew, before I had left that night, that I wanted to tell the story of these people. Legal permanent residents and naturalized citizens, they are immigrants who have not only assimilated into America but also retain and celebrate their heritage. Nicolas speaks Spanish fluently, but he also has over a 4.0 GPA at Sparta High School. Andres grew up in Colombia, and he served in the American Army. They live the American dream.
At the same time, I still want to do the original story I had planned -- the one about immigrants like Lelia who help other immigrants. There are two women I've met and talked with, Libia Eichler and Luz Quintero, who will now be the focus of the story, and I'll also include a little bit about Lelia for extra depth. I'm still planning to finish the series with the piece on immigrant children in American schools. I'm trying to get in touch with the girl who graduated Sparta HS in the top 10, but couldn't go to any colleges because she didn't have papers; I've also heard about another girl with a similar story from Costa Rica.
Which brings me to another point: the legal aspect of immigration. I've spent a lot of my time this past week researching immigration law (and its possible reforms); I've still got more to learn, but I'd like to share what I've found so far.
First, immigration enforcement changed significantly after 9/11 and the Homeland Security Act of 2002. Originally part of Immigration and Naturalization Services (INS) within the Department of Justice, it is now part of the newly created Department of Homeland Security. Within the DHS, US Citizenship and Immigration Services oversees the administrative functions involving immigration; US Immigration and Customs Enforcement and US Customs and Border Protection enforce the laws and protect the borders.
According to the CRS Report for Congress "Immigration Reform: A Brief Synthesis of the Issues," foreign born people constitute 12.4% of the US population. One third of those are naturalized citizens, one third are legal permanent residents, and one third are undocumented. Although it is illegal for employers to knowingly hire or continue to employ undocumented immigrants, enforcement is weak, and the practice is rampant. In the past, the US government has focused on rounding up illegal workers, rather than fining or punishing the employers.
One of the largest issues with immigration is legalization, particularly with regard to letting unauthorized aliens become legal permanent residents. No program is currently in place for this, although there are several proposals -- and proposed requirements, such as documentation of physical presence in the US over a certain period, demonstrated employment for certain periods, demonstrated payment of income taxes, and/or leaving the US to obtain legal status.
Perhaps the best known proposal is the DREAM Act, which would focus on children that came to the US without papers. These children are often brought over when they are 5 or 6 years old; they grow up here and go to school here. Many succeed in school, but they have no opportunities because they are "illegal." Moreover, the schools themselves are often unaware of these students. I spoke with Stan Abromavage, the Director of Guidance for Sparta High School. He told me that the schools do not ask for proof of citizenship, green cards, visas, etc. If a child has proof that he/she is a resident of the area (in this case Sparta), the school by law has to enroll that child.
These are the children I intend to focus on for the final article. It's an issue that too few people are aware of, and I think that these stories need to be told.
My visit changed some of that. I went to Lelia's house for dinner and an interview, and I gained a glimpse into the life of people from other countries who have (legally) made America their permanent home. Lelia's husband, Andres, and her two sons, Nicolas and Sebastian -- I apologize for the lack of accents, by the way, but they don't exist in this html editor -- were kind enough to welcome me and share their thoughts and experiences with me. One of her neighbors, Pablo, came over with most of his family, unexpected visitors who entered without knocking and were greeted warmly. They, too, talked with me and shared stories: Pablo's father told me about both Cuba before Castro and also life in his native country, Colombia.
I knew, before I had left that night, that I wanted to tell the story of these people. Legal permanent residents and naturalized citizens, they are immigrants who have not only assimilated into America but also retain and celebrate their heritage. Nicolas speaks Spanish fluently, but he also has over a 4.0 GPA at Sparta High School. Andres grew up in Colombia, and he served in the American Army. They live the American dream.
At the same time, I still want to do the original story I had planned -- the one about immigrants like Lelia who help other immigrants. There are two women I've met and talked with, Libia Eichler and Luz Quintero, who will now be the focus of the story, and I'll also include a little bit about Lelia for extra depth. I'm still planning to finish the series with the piece on immigrant children in American schools. I'm trying to get in touch with the girl who graduated Sparta HS in the top 10, but couldn't go to any colleges because she didn't have papers; I've also heard about another girl with a similar story from Costa Rica.
Which brings me to another point: the legal aspect of immigration. I've spent a lot of my time this past week researching immigration law (and its possible reforms); I've still got more to learn, but I'd like to share what I've found so far.
First, immigration enforcement changed significantly after 9/11 and the Homeland Security Act of 2002. Originally part of Immigration and Naturalization Services (INS) within the Department of Justice, it is now part of the newly created Department of Homeland Security. Within the DHS, US Citizenship and Immigration Services oversees the administrative functions involving immigration; US Immigration and Customs Enforcement and US Customs and Border Protection enforce the laws and protect the borders.
According to the CRS Report for Congress "Immigration Reform: A Brief Synthesis of the Issues," foreign born people constitute 12.4% of the US population. One third of those are naturalized citizens, one third are legal permanent residents, and one third are undocumented. Although it is illegal for employers to knowingly hire or continue to employ undocumented immigrants, enforcement is weak, and the practice is rampant. In the past, the US government has focused on rounding up illegal workers, rather than fining or punishing the employers.
One of the largest issues with immigration is legalization, particularly with regard to letting unauthorized aliens become legal permanent residents. No program is currently in place for this, although there are several proposals -- and proposed requirements, such as documentation of physical presence in the US over a certain period, demonstrated employment for certain periods, demonstrated payment of income taxes, and/or leaving the US to obtain legal status.
Perhaps the best known proposal is the DREAM Act, which would focus on children that came to the US without papers. These children are often brought over when they are 5 or 6 years old; they grow up here and go to school here. Many succeed in school, but they have no opportunities because they are "illegal." Moreover, the schools themselves are often unaware of these students. I spoke with Stan Abromavage, the Director of Guidance for Sparta High School. He told me that the schools do not ask for proof of citizenship, green cards, visas, etc. If a child has proof that he/she is a resident of the area (in this case Sparta), the school by law has to enroll that child.
These are the children I intend to focus on for the final article. It's an issue that too few people are aware of, and I think that these stories need to be told.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Immigrant is Successful Business Owner
Aldo Monge has lived in Newton for over 12 years. In that time, the Mexican immigrant has opened and owned four businesses. He sounds like many American entrepreneurs, worrying about the state of the economy and bemoaning the massive amounts of paperwork involved in business.
His first business venture, a Hispanic grocery store, opened on Spring Street six years ago. The store’s name is Jake’s, but it’s pronounced “Jackie’s,” since it’s named after Monge’s wife, Jacqueline.
“When we decided to open the store, it was more because it…had been necessary for the community,” he explains. “The Spanish community had been growing fast, and except for a couple of things in the [existing] store, there wasn’t much for them.”
It took Aldo and Jacqueline six months to save up enough money for the rent and capital for the storefront, but they recognized the opportunity when they saw it.
Now, Aldo has also been able to open Salsa, a Mexican restaurant on Spring Street that seats eighty. With the help of partner Jose Orlando Castillo, Aldo realized his long standing dream of owning his own restaurant on November 16, 2008.
“It was very exciting, there were many hopes…Now I ask myself, did I make a mistake? But it’s an opportunity,” Aldo says of Salsa.
Although the partners worry about the ailing economy’s effect on their fledgling business, they are confident they will be successful. Salsa, open seven days a week, offers both Tex-Mex and more traditional Mexican cuisine – from appetizers and entrées to drinks and desserts.
Customers come from not only the Hispanic community but also the Court House, local offices, Sussex County Community College, and the hospital.
Like many immigrants in the area, both Castillo and Aldo worked in restaurants as cooks and waiters before they were able to launch Salsa.
Neither Monge nor Castillo planned to open a business when they first came to America.
“I came to Newton because someone hired me, from when I was in Mexico,” comments Aldo.
He had been working at a small hotel in Mexico, where he had worked his way up from the front desk to manager. He had previously attended a school for hotel and restaurant management, although he didn’t finish – he got married.
Aldo didn’t intend to stay in America, but after a year, he realized life for his family would be better in Newton. It took two years before he was able to save up enough to bring Michelle and Jacqueline over.
Castillo’s story is quite different. The Colombia native owned his own transportation company in Bogota when his friends convinced him to go to America. He didn’t tell his family about his plans; he didn’t want them to worry.
The journey took 23 days.
“Very, very hard,” he says simply of the trip.
Castillo went to Florida first, and then Queens, before moving to Newton 14 years ago. He chose Newton as his final destination for both a change of pace and to be closer to his brother, who had already been living in Newton.
Monge’s other businesses have also been named for his family. Three years ago, he opened a deli near the Weiss in Newton; he called it Michelle’s, after his teenage daughter. After two years, Monge had to close the deli for personal reasons.
For eight months, he also owned Mixel’s, a boutique he named after Michelle and his now four-year old son, Aldo Axel.
His first business venture, a Hispanic grocery store, opened on Spring Street six years ago. The store’s name is Jake’s, but it’s pronounced “Jackie’s,” since it’s named after Monge’s wife, Jacqueline.
“When we decided to open the store, it was more because it…had been necessary for the community,” he explains. “The Spanish community had been growing fast, and except for a couple of things in the [existing] store, there wasn’t much for them.”
It took Aldo and Jacqueline six months to save up enough money for the rent and capital for the storefront, but they recognized the opportunity when they saw it.
Now, Aldo has also been able to open Salsa, a Mexican restaurant on Spring Street that seats eighty. With the help of partner Jose Orlando Castillo, Aldo realized his long standing dream of owning his own restaurant on November 16, 2008.
“It was very exciting, there were many hopes…Now I ask myself, did I make a mistake? But it’s an opportunity,” Aldo says of Salsa.
Although the partners worry about the ailing economy’s effect on their fledgling business, they are confident they will be successful. Salsa, open seven days a week, offers both Tex-Mex and more traditional Mexican cuisine – from appetizers and entrées to drinks and desserts.
Customers come from not only the Hispanic community but also the Court House, local offices, Sussex County Community College, and the hospital.
Like many immigrants in the area, both Castillo and Aldo worked in restaurants as cooks and waiters before they were able to launch Salsa.
Neither Monge nor Castillo planned to open a business when they first came to America.
“I came to Newton because someone hired me, from when I was in Mexico,” comments Aldo.
He had been working at a small hotel in Mexico, where he had worked his way up from the front desk to manager. He had previously attended a school for hotel and restaurant management, although he didn’t finish – he got married.
Aldo didn’t intend to stay in America, but after a year, he realized life for his family would be better in Newton. It took two years before he was able to save up enough to bring Michelle and Jacqueline over.
Castillo’s story is quite different. The Colombia native owned his own transportation company in Bogota when his friends convinced him to go to America. He didn’t tell his family about his plans; he didn’t want them to worry.
The journey took 23 days.
“Very, very hard,” he says simply of the trip.
Castillo went to Florida first, and then Queens, before moving to Newton 14 years ago. He chose Newton as his final destination for both a change of pace and to be closer to his brother, who had already been living in Newton.
Monge’s other businesses have also been named for his family. Three years ago, he opened a deli near the Weiss in Newton; he called it Michelle’s, after his teenage daughter. After two years, Monge had to close the deli for personal reasons.
For eight months, he also owned Mixel’s, a boutique he named after Michelle and his now four-year old son, Aldo Axel.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Immigrant Mothers Work to Raise Families, Integrate into Sparta Society
Like many other young immigrant women, Isabela* came to America from Mexico at a young age. She was only 19. She followed her boyfriend in search of a job and a better life, leaving behind her parents, ten siblings, and her infant daughter who was too young to make the trip.
“It’s hard when you come here, and the first couple months you say, ‘Oh, I want to go back!’ I feel bad, I don’t have a family. I don’t have my brothers. I don’t have friends…I miss my daughter,” she says.
Isabela has lived in America for ten years, nearly seven of those in Sparta. She lives with that same boyfriend, whom she refers to as her husband, and the three children they have raised in America.
She has not been able to return home to visit her daughter.
Alba* made the journey from Veracruz, Mexico to Sussex County seven years ago, at only 21. Crossing the border took seven harrowing days.
“I walked a lot. I didn’t eat – it was a lot of days without eating,” she says simply and in Spanish. She walked so much, for so long, that by the time she was able to stop, she noticed that her toenails had fallen off.
Alba wants to return home, but she knows that her husband, son, and daughter will have a better life here. “I had many friends there, but I’m alone. On the weekends, on Christmas, on holidays. But I wait because my children and my husband love it here.”
Raising children without help from family is a common thread in the narrative of immigrant mothers. Most are not able to come to America with parents and siblings; they struggle to raise children in a foreign country, where they often do not know the language, by themselves or with their husband.
Isabela’s husband works as a cook in a local restaurant for twelve hours a day. Between his job, and the cleaning she does to supplement their income, they barely see each other.
Several outreach programs emerged to help the young mothers. Pam Madzy, at Sparta’s Blessed Kateri, founded a Mom’s Club that meets once a month. Fifteen to twenty mothers attend, with their children, to meet and support each other.
Speakers from other Sussex County programs come to the meetings to teach the mothers about car seats or child nutrition or day care programs.
In June, Robin Vander Groef, the Education, Disabilities, and Transition Manager of Head Start, spoke to the women; so did Luz Quintero, an Early Head Start employee. Both organizations are national programs that operate in Sussex County under NORWESCAP.
Head Start works with children ages three to five; Early Head Start assists pregnant mothers and children too young to enter into Head Start’s day care programs. Both programs provide assistance to low-income families, educating and training the parents and offering information on social services and food pantries.
Approximately a third of the families served by these programs are immigrants.
Alba and Isabela appreciate all of the assistance that these organizations – which often work with El Refugio, the outreach center run by Sparta’s Lelia Gomez – offer. Only five years ago, many of the services did not exist, and the mothers had no outside help.
Today even the existing services are often unavailable to the undocumented migrants. “They don’t have papers,” Quintero explains. “So we can’t provide all of the services.”
The language barrier also poses a problem for many mothers, especially those who have children in school here. “My neighbor suffers a lot because her son is eight years old, and he can’t do his homework, and she can’t help him,” comments Alba.
The mothers want to learn English – and free classes are available – but many cannot. Alba explains that her husband would not approve: she must stay home and raise her children, not go to school.
Many of the children also face discrimination, which is painful for both them and their mothers. Lelia Gomez, a documented immigrant from Ecuador, has a son in middle school who was mistakenly called a border jumper.
“I was thinking, what if it really was a child from Mexico that had jumped the border?” she asks. “It would be so painful.”
* Names have been changed.
“It’s hard when you come here, and the first couple months you say, ‘Oh, I want to go back!’ I feel bad, I don’t have a family. I don’t have my brothers. I don’t have friends…I miss my daughter,” she says.
Isabela has lived in America for ten years, nearly seven of those in Sparta. She lives with that same boyfriend, whom she refers to as her husband, and the three children they have raised in America.
She has not been able to return home to visit her daughter.
Alba* made the journey from Veracruz, Mexico to Sussex County seven years ago, at only 21. Crossing the border took seven harrowing days.
“I walked a lot. I didn’t eat – it was a lot of days without eating,” she says simply and in Spanish. She walked so much, for so long, that by the time she was able to stop, she noticed that her toenails had fallen off.
Alba wants to return home, but she knows that her husband, son, and daughter will have a better life here. “I had many friends there, but I’m alone. On the weekends, on Christmas, on holidays. But I wait because my children and my husband love it here.”
Raising children without help from family is a common thread in the narrative of immigrant mothers. Most are not able to come to America with parents and siblings; they struggle to raise children in a foreign country, where they often do not know the language, by themselves or with their husband.
Isabela’s husband works as a cook in a local restaurant for twelve hours a day. Between his job, and the cleaning she does to supplement their income, they barely see each other.
Several outreach programs emerged to help the young mothers. Pam Madzy, at Sparta’s Blessed Kateri, founded a Mom’s Club that meets once a month. Fifteen to twenty mothers attend, with their children, to meet and support each other.
Speakers from other Sussex County programs come to the meetings to teach the mothers about car seats or child nutrition or day care programs.
In June, Robin Vander Groef, the Education, Disabilities, and Transition Manager of Head Start, spoke to the women; so did Luz Quintero, an Early Head Start employee. Both organizations are national programs that operate in Sussex County under NORWESCAP.
Head Start works with children ages three to five; Early Head Start assists pregnant mothers and children too young to enter into Head Start’s day care programs. Both programs provide assistance to low-income families, educating and training the parents and offering information on social services and food pantries.
Approximately a third of the families served by these programs are immigrants.
Alba and Isabela appreciate all of the assistance that these organizations – which often work with El Refugio, the outreach center run by Sparta’s Lelia Gomez – offer. Only five years ago, many of the services did not exist, and the mothers had no outside help.
Today even the existing services are often unavailable to the undocumented migrants. “They don’t have papers,” Quintero explains. “So we can’t provide all of the services.”
The language barrier also poses a problem for many mothers, especially those who have children in school here. “My neighbor suffers a lot because her son is eight years old, and he can’t do his homework, and she can’t help him,” comments Alba.
The mothers want to learn English – and free classes are available – but many cannot. Alba explains that her husband would not approve: she must stay home and raise her children, not go to school.
Many of the children also face discrimination, which is painful for both them and their mothers. Lelia Gomez, a documented immigrant from Ecuador, has a son in middle school who was mistakenly called a border jumper.
“I was thinking, what if it really was a child from Mexico that had jumped the border?” she asks. “It would be so painful.”
* Names have been changed.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
This week, although only half way done, has been busy for me so far. I've had several interviews and been able to flush out the rest of the story for the next piece I'm going to do -- a story focusing on the young mothers. I'll finish that by Friday.
In fact, my focuses for the next three articles have coalesced; I'll be doing one on young mothers, one on restaurant and business owner Aldo Monge and his partner, and one on (documented) older immigrant women who have devoted their time to working with outreach programs and other similar organizations to help less fortunate migrants.
I'm still struggling to figure out what I'd like to do for the last two pieces. I feel as if I've hit a wall: I don't have many new leads. I've gotten to know a lot of the women in the community, but besides Aldo, I haven't met any of the men. Most, as I've mentioned before, work in landscaping or restaurants, and I'd like to do a feature on those men, but I'm not really sure how to meet them. I've gotten the impression that they're less willing to talk than the women. Those that are here alone would be particularly difficult to find a way to meet. I'm planning to attend a few of the masses, and there's a large party in mid-July that I'll be attending as well. Hopefully I can meet more people there.
I also would like to do another feature on the legal aspect of immigration. Many of the stories I've heard and the conversations I've had have raised a lot of questions regarding that issue. For example, why don't some of the County officials and programs report the undocumented migrants they encounter? I'm not by any stretch saying that they should. It's just something that I've been wondering about. Similarly, what happens when an undocumented mother gives birth to a child in a hospital? The child is an American citizen, but do hospital officials have to report the mother?
I need to do more research on the issue. I'm planning on reviewing the current national legislation, talking to local officials about local laws, and hopefully getting in touch with some immigration lawyers. I think it might provide a good angle into the final piece, something tying into the future of immigration in America.
In fact, my focuses for the next three articles have coalesced; I'll be doing one on young mothers, one on restaurant and business owner Aldo Monge and his partner, and one on (documented) older immigrant women who have devoted their time to working with outreach programs and other similar organizations to help less fortunate migrants.
I'm still struggling to figure out what I'd like to do for the last two pieces. I feel as if I've hit a wall: I don't have many new leads. I've gotten to know a lot of the women in the community, but besides Aldo, I haven't met any of the men. Most, as I've mentioned before, work in landscaping or restaurants, and I'd like to do a feature on those men, but I'm not really sure how to meet them. I've gotten the impression that they're less willing to talk than the women. Those that are here alone would be particularly difficult to find a way to meet. I'm planning to attend a few of the masses, and there's a large party in mid-July that I'll be attending as well. Hopefully I can meet more people there.
I also would like to do another feature on the legal aspect of immigration. Many of the stories I've heard and the conversations I've had have raised a lot of questions regarding that issue. For example, why don't some of the County officials and programs report the undocumented migrants they encounter? I'm not by any stretch saying that they should. It's just something that I've been wondering about. Similarly, what happens when an undocumented mother gives birth to a child in a hospital? The child is an American citizen, but do hospital officials have to report the mother?
I need to do more research on the issue. I'm planning on reviewing the current national legislation, talking to local officials about local laws, and hopefully getting in touch with some immigration lawyers. I think it might provide a good angle into the final piece, something tying into the future of immigration in America.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
I'm starting to meet more members of the migrant community, beyond simply those working for the outreach programs. I knew that would take some time; it's hard for many of the immigrants to trust strangers, especially when they hear the word "journalist." As it is, I've been surprised at how quickly I've made inroads -- I only had one person, a doctor, refuse to speak with me.
Earlier this week, I attended a Moms' Club meeting. (The Moms' Club is organized by Pam Madzy, out of the Migrant Ministry at Blessed Kateri, and as I mentioned in a previous post, it provides an opportunity for young immigrant mothers to meet, learn from and help each other, and hear about services in the community that they might be able to use.) I was surprised by how many women and children attended: I counted almost twenty mothers, plus all of the kids.
Many of the women did not speak more than broken English, so, for the first time in this project, I spoke in Spanish. My Spanish is decent, but I'm much better at writing, reading, and listening than I am at speaking myself, so the experience provided me a small glimpse of how the language barrier must feel for those who come to America unable to speak English. It was hard for me to just start speaking, knowing that I would make mistakes, that my accent would be off; it was frustrating to forget words or have to struggle to make myself understood. But the women were very understanding, and very patient, and I managed to carry off several conversations, where I learned a lot more than I had expected.
In fact, the meeting inspired an idea for one of the pieces I'll write for this project: an article focusing on the migrant mothers. I'm meeting with two of the women next week -- one is a single, working mom with 4 kids, and another, who is not much older than I am, stays at home to watch her three children while her husband works. I also want to explore some of the programs that help the mothers and their children, so I've interviewed two Head Start employees and am looking for other agencies that provide similar assistance.
At the same time, I've been trying to learn more about the migrants who work in food services, which I'm hoping to turn into another piece. Today I met with Aldo Monge, the proprietor of Jake's (pronounced Jackie, in honor of Aldo's wife, Jacquelin) and Salsa. Jake's is one of two hispanic grocery stores in Newton; Salsa is a Mexican restaurant a few blocks away. Aldo and Jose Orlando Castillo, Aldo's partner at Salsa, discussed their experience as immigrants and as business owners, and they were kind enough to share their stories with me.
All in all, I'm satisfied with my progress this week. I've gained a lot of information on two separate story lines, and I'm looking forward to learning more about those themes, as well as discovering new avenues to pursue.
Earlier this week, I attended a Moms' Club meeting. (The Moms' Club is organized by Pam Madzy, out of the Migrant Ministry at Blessed Kateri, and as I mentioned in a previous post, it provides an opportunity for young immigrant mothers to meet, learn from and help each other, and hear about services in the community that they might be able to use.) I was surprised by how many women and children attended: I counted almost twenty mothers, plus all of the kids.
Many of the women did not speak more than broken English, so, for the first time in this project, I spoke in Spanish. My Spanish is decent, but I'm much better at writing, reading, and listening than I am at speaking myself, so the experience provided me a small glimpse of how the language barrier must feel for those who come to America unable to speak English. It was hard for me to just start speaking, knowing that I would make mistakes, that my accent would be off; it was frustrating to forget words or have to struggle to make myself understood. But the women were very understanding, and very patient, and I managed to carry off several conversations, where I learned a lot more than I had expected.
In fact, the meeting inspired an idea for one of the pieces I'll write for this project: an article focusing on the migrant mothers. I'm meeting with two of the women next week -- one is a single, working mom with 4 kids, and another, who is not much older than I am, stays at home to watch her three children while her husband works. I also want to explore some of the programs that help the mothers and their children, so I've interviewed two Head Start employees and am looking for other agencies that provide similar assistance.
At the same time, I've been trying to learn more about the migrants who work in food services, which I'm hoping to turn into another piece. Today I met with Aldo Monge, the proprietor of Jake's (pronounced Jackie, in honor of Aldo's wife, Jacquelin) and Salsa. Jake's is one of two hispanic grocery stores in Newton; Salsa is a Mexican restaurant a few blocks away. Aldo and Jose Orlando Castillo, Aldo's partner at Salsa, discussed their experience as immigrants and as business owners, and they were kind enough to share their stories with me.
All in all, I'm satisfied with my progress this week. I've gained a lot of information on two separate story lines, and I'm looking forward to learning more about those themes, as well as discovering new avenues to pursue.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Sparta Parish Helps Migrant Community
When 19-year old Isabela* left Mexico for America, she left behind an infant daughter, Anna*, who was too young to make the journey. Following her long-term boyfriend in search of a job and a better life, she traveled first to Morris County, New Jersey, and then ultimately Sparta.
By the time she had saved up enough money to bring her daughter over, Anna didn’t want to come – she didn’t really remember her mom.
Isabela’s story echoes with many other migrants. Aldo Monge, who now owns both grocery store Jake’s and the restaurant Salsa, came to New Jersey from Mexico because he was hired to work here. He had to leave behind wife Jacqueline and daughter Michelle to make the trip. It took four years before he had saved enough to bring them over.
In fact, for the past ten years, Sussex County has found itself home to a steadily growing immigrant community struggling to integrate into life in northwestern NJ. Sussex County officials are often overwhelmed and, lacking Spanish-speaking employees, unable to cope with many of the migrants’ needs, says Director of the Office of Public Health Nursing, Ellen Phelps.
Several Sparta residents have come together to help the immigrants through the Migrant Ministry at the Blessed Kateri Parish. Blessed Kateri’s program is one of the principal outreach groups serving the migrant population of the Sparta-Andover-Newton area.
Blessed Kateri offers several services to migrants, and one of its principal achievements was establishing a network of approximately 25 doctors to care for the immigrants. “We were trying to address social justice as well as human dignity issues, and those never go away,” explains Pam Madzy, Coordinator for the Ministry at Blessed Kateri. Madzy, a Sparta resident whose experience as a medical technologist helped her develop the network, works with her husband Ed to oversee the Blessed Kateri program.
“Last year we made and assisted over 500 appointments,” says Madzy.
Madzy, along with several other volunteers, also instituted a bilingual hotline that migrants can call for assistance. Libia Eichler, Nohemi Noseli, Kevin Wright, Nieves Martin, and Javier Ramirez operate the hotline and also often provide translation services. “You have to listen to what they say,” comments Eichler. “Many times their pain is not so much physical as of the heart.”
Eichler speaks from experience. She came to America from Peru after she met and married her husband, an American traveling on business there. “I think I was very brave,” she says.
The immigrants are often young adults, homesick and missing family. Some are mothers like Isabela, who either had to leave children behind or are forced to raise young ones in a new country without the support of their own parents. “Sometimes you can’t even talk to a woman without her crying. It’s just heartwrenching,” Madzy confesses.
To help the young mothers with children, Blessed Kateri established a young mother’s club – which Isabela attends when she can - so that the women could meet and support each other. The Sparta parish also holds a Spanish Mass the first and fourth Monday of every month, and Sussex County Community College provides free English classes there in the spring.
Blessed Kateri often coordinates with El Refugio, a Newton-based outreach center, Newton Memorial Hospital, and Sussex County offices to better assist the migrant population. “I want the already established community to know we are ok, we aren’t a threat. Whatever these people do, it’s to work for their family,” insists Lelia Gomez, the director of El Refugio.
“We don’t close our doors to anybody, but we end up working more with Hispanics,” says the current Ministry Director, Brother John Skrodinsky. Most migrants come from Guatemala, Mexico, Uruguay, Peru, Ecuador, Colombia, and Argentina, although Ellen Phelps says that there is a small Chinese population as well.
Madzy is proud of her parish’s accomplishments. “Blessed Kateri is a very open community…it’s a very, very welcoming community. They reach out to a lot of different needs, so it’s the perfect place for this ministry.”
In 1998, members of the Patterson Diocese founded the Migrant Ministry to serve the needs of the newly emerging immigrant community in the Morris-Sussex County area. Shortly thereafter, Blessed Kateri became one of the centers of the Ministry. (Since the Ministry is a diocese-wide program, several individual parishes within the diocese operate as centers.)
“The idea then was just to help, to be a welcoming committee. To open the doors to them, and help them form a community of their own,” explains Brother John.
*Names have been changed.
By the time she had saved up enough money to bring her daughter over, Anna didn’t want to come – she didn’t really remember her mom.
Isabela’s story echoes with many other migrants. Aldo Monge, who now owns both grocery store Jake’s and the restaurant Salsa, came to New Jersey from Mexico because he was hired to work here. He had to leave behind wife Jacqueline and daughter Michelle to make the trip. It took four years before he had saved enough to bring them over.
In fact, for the past ten years, Sussex County has found itself home to a steadily growing immigrant community struggling to integrate into life in northwestern NJ. Sussex County officials are often overwhelmed and, lacking Spanish-speaking employees, unable to cope with many of the migrants’ needs, says Director of the Office of Public Health Nursing, Ellen Phelps.
Several Sparta residents have come together to help the immigrants through the Migrant Ministry at the Blessed Kateri Parish. Blessed Kateri’s program is one of the principal outreach groups serving the migrant population of the Sparta-Andover-Newton area.
Blessed Kateri offers several services to migrants, and one of its principal achievements was establishing a network of approximately 25 doctors to care for the immigrants. “We were trying to address social justice as well as human dignity issues, and those never go away,” explains Pam Madzy, Coordinator for the Ministry at Blessed Kateri. Madzy, a Sparta resident whose experience as a medical technologist helped her develop the network, works with her husband Ed to oversee the Blessed Kateri program.
“Last year we made and assisted over 500 appointments,” says Madzy.
Madzy, along with several other volunteers, also instituted a bilingual hotline that migrants can call for assistance. Libia Eichler, Nohemi Noseli, Kevin Wright, Nieves Martin, and Javier Ramirez operate the hotline and also often provide translation services. “You have to listen to what they say,” comments Eichler. “Many times their pain is not so much physical as of the heart.”
Eichler speaks from experience. She came to America from Peru after she met and married her husband, an American traveling on business there. “I think I was very brave,” she says.
The immigrants are often young adults, homesick and missing family. Some are mothers like Isabela, who either had to leave children behind or are forced to raise young ones in a new country without the support of their own parents. “Sometimes you can’t even talk to a woman without her crying. It’s just heartwrenching,” Madzy confesses.
To help the young mothers with children, Blessed Kateri established a young mother’s club – which Isabela attends when she can - so that the women could meet and support each other. The Sparta parish also holds a Spanish Mass the first and fourth Monday of every month, and Sussex County Community College provides free English classes there in the spring.
Blessed Kateri often coordinates with El Refugio, a Newton-based outreach center, Newton Memorial Hospital, and Sussex County offices to better assist the migrant population. “I want the already established community to know we are ok, we aren’t a threat. Whatever these people do, it’s to work for their family,” insists Lelia Gomez, the director of El Refugio.
“We don’t close our doors to anybody, but we end up working more with Hispanics,” says the current Ministry Director, Brother John Skrodinsky. Most migrants come from Guatemala, Mexico, Uruguay, Peru, Ecuador, Colombia, and Argentina, although Ellen Phelps says that there is a small Chinese population as well.
Madzy is proud of her parish’s accomplishments. “Blessed Kateri is a very open community…it’s a very, very welcoming community. They reach out to a lot of different needs, so it’s the perfect place for this ministry.”
In 1998, members of the Patterson Diocese founded the Migrant Ministry to serve the needs of the newly emerging immigrant community in the Morris-Sussex County area. Shortly thereafter, Blessed Kateri became one of the centers of the Ministry. (Since the Ministry is a diocese-wide program, several individual parishes within the diocese operate as centers.)
“The idea then was just to help, to be a welcoming committee. To open the doors to them, and help them form a community of their own,” explains Brother John.
*Names have been changed.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Early Progress
It's a week and a half into this project, and I'm pleased with my progress so far. I've learned that the migrant population in Sussex County (the area that I'm focusing on) is predominantly hispanic, from Latin American countries such as Mexico - Vera Cruz and Puebla in particular - Guatemala, Honduras, Colombia, Costa Rica, Uruguay, and Argentina. However, there are also small Chinese, Indian, and Polish populations. Since there aren't really any factories in this area, most migrants work in food services or landscaping.
Aside from this basic information, two issues have captured my attention. First, the local and county governments seem to have trouble coping with the needs of the migrants. While the various departments want to assist the migrants, most simply do not have the resources to do so completely. Ellen Phelps, the Chief Nurse at the Department of Health and Human Services, cited the language barrier as the primary difficulty. She said that her office is unable to offer classes to the migrants because no one in her department speaks Spanish. Anne Kakerbeck, an official at the Social Services Division, informed me that her Division faces a similar situation; employees must call a language line to access translators. I cannot help but wonder: why don't the Sussex County offices hire at least some bilingual employees?
Which brings me to issue number 2. Non-governmental organizations (NGO's) appear to provide most of the assistance to the immigrant community of Sussex County. So far, I have learned of two main organizations that serve the area, El Refugio and the Migrant Ministry, part of Catholic Charities.
Based in Newton, El Refugio is an outreach center founded in April 2006; it provides translation services, helps migrants navigate through the bureaucracies of social services, hospitals, and schools, and acts as "a bridge between the number of social services providers who seek to access an underserved community." I met yesterday with Lelia Gomez, the director of El Refugio. Lelia migrated to the US from Ecuador in her early 20's; she has a history of helping the immigrants in her community. "I want the already established community to know that we are ok, we aren't a threat. Whatever these people do, it's to work for their family," she says. I'm hoping to feature Lelia's story and work in one of my articles for this project, so you should be hearing more about her in the future.
The second organization, the Migrant Ministry, operates under the Patterson Diocese of New Jersey. One of the Ministry's centers is Blessed Kateri, a parish in Sparta, NJ. The Ministry at Blessed Kateri is the subject of my first article, which I will be posting tomorrow, so I won't say more about it now.
I do want to say something, though, about the three people I spoke with so far who work with either El Refugio or the Migrant Ministry: Brother John Skrodinsky, Director of the Migrant Ministry, Lelia Gomez, and Pam Madzy, coordinator for the Blessed Kateri Ministry. The compassion and dedication of these individuals humbles me.
Katie
Aside from this basic information, two issues have captured my attention. First, the local and county governments seem to have trouble coping with the needs of the migrants. While the various departments want to assist the migrants, most simply do not have the resources to do so completely. Ellen Phelps, the Chief Nurse at the Department of Health and Human Services, cited the language barrier as the primary difficulty. She said that her office is unable to offer classes to the migrants because no one in her department speaks Spanish. Anne Kakerbeck, an official at the Social Services Division, informed me that her Division faces a similar situation; employees must call a language line to access translators. I cannot help but wonder: why don't the Sussex County offices hire at least some bilingual employees?
Which brings me to issue number 2. Non-governmental organizations (NGO's) appear to provide most of the assistance to the immigrant community of Sussex County. So far, I have learned of two main organizations that serve the area, El Refugio and the Migrant Ministry, part of Catholic Charities.
Based in Newton, El Refugio is an outreach center founded in April 2006; it provides translation services, helps migrants navigate through the bureaucracies of social services, hospitals, and schools, and acts as "a bridge between the number of social services providers who seek to access an underserved community." I met yesterday with Lelia Gomez, the director of El Refugio. Lelia migrated to the US from Ecuador in her early 20's; she has a history of helping the immigrants in her community. "I want the already established community to know that we are ok, we aren't a threat. Whatever these people do, it's to work for their family," she says. I'm hoping to feature Lelia's story and work in one of my articles for this project, so you should be hearing more about her in the future.
The second organization, the Migrant Ministry, operates under the Patterson Diocese of New Jersey. One of the Ministry's centers is Blessed Kateri, a parish in Sparta, NJ. The Ministry at Blessed Kateri is the subject of my first article, which I will be posting tomorrow, so I won't say more about it now.
I do want to say something, though, about the three people I spoke with so far who work with either El Refugio or the Migrant Ministry: Brother John Skrodinsky, Director of the Migrant Ministry, Lelia Gomez, and Pam Madzy, coordinator for the Blessed Kateri Ministry. The compassion and dedication of these individuals humbles me.
Katie
Friday, June 5, 2009
Introduction
Dear readers,
My interest in migration originated from two very different sources. Last year, as a freshman at the University of Rochester, I took ANT104, an introductory course that examined migration to the United States. We discussed refugees, documented and undocumented immigrants, different ethnic groups that have migrated to the US, and the resulting US backlashes. I was hooked. Since then, I have discovered that migration is one of my primary academic interests as an International Relations major (and Spanish minor).
At the same time, migration touches my personal life. I live in Blairstown, a small, rural community in northwestern NJ that embodies most of the cliches that you hear about small towns. Most of the surrounding area is similarly rustic; farms, not factories, predominate. Northwestern NJ is a far cry from Miami, or the southwestern border towns filled with maquiladoras, or even the crowded northeastern cities that have large migrant communities. Yet it is home to a new and growing migrant population. I don't know much about this community. But I have visited the new hispanic grocery store; enjoyed the food in El Paraiso, a restaurant run by a Dominican immigrant; heard the comments about the Indian students who attend my former high school (which was, according to the statistics, 99% white).
Through this project, I hope to explore and better understand my personal interest and academic passion. Who lives in the migrant community of Northern NJ? Where do they come from, and how do they live here? Most importantly, though, how do they perceive life in America?
Katie
My interest in migration originated from two very different sources. Last year, as a freshman at the University of Rochester, I took ANT104, an introductory course that examined migration to the United States. We discussed refugees, documented and undocumented immigrants, different ethnic groups that have migrated to the US, and the resulting US backlashes. I was hooked. Since then, I have discovered that migration is one of my primary academic interests as an International Relations major (and Spanish minor).
At the same time, migration touches my personal life. I live in Blairstown, a small, rural community in northwestern NJ that embodies most of the cliches that you hear about small towns. Most of the surrounding area is similarly rustic; farms, not factories, predominate. Northwestern NJ is a far cry from Miami, or the southwestern border towns filled with maquiladoras, or even the crowded northeastern cities that have large migrant communities. Yet it is home to a new and growing migrant population. I don't know much about this community. But I have visited the new hispanic grocery store; enjoyed the food in El Paraiso, a restaurant run by a Dominican immigrant; heard the comments about the Indian students who attend my former high school (which was, according to the statistics, 99% white).
Through this project, I hope to explore and better understand my personal interest and academic passion. Who lives in the migrant community of Northern NJ? Where do they come from, and how do they live here? Most importantly, though, how do they perceive life in America?
Katie
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