Notes from the Field: The Importance of the Term “Asylum Seeker” & How We Use It
Written by: Allison
I invite you to participate in a quick exercise with me: Open a new tab on your internet browser and go to Google. Type in “social services for asylum seekers.” Once you scroll past the ads, you will likely see a Google Maps search of nearby social service organizations. What are they? Who do they serve? Now, keep scrolling. What else comes up?
For me, living in one of the five boroughs of New York City, the top three organizations that come up on Google Maps all have the terms “refugee” or “refugees” in their title. And, when I keep scrolling, I see links to organizations and programs that specifically cater to refugees and asylees (people who have already been granted asylum). But what about asylum seekers?
As an intern with Catholic Charities Community Services in New York City, I work with asylum seekers who cross the Southern border of the United States, many from Central and South America. All of my clients are in defensive asylum proceedings (in short, waiting for a judge to decide if they are eligible for asylum, a process that could take months). My clients cannot legally work and often do not have enough money to afford food, clothing, and housing. They do not go through resettlement services like refugees and, contrary to popular belief, are not eligible for most public benefits.
Finding services has been challenging, especially when organizations do not clearly mention whether or not they serve asylum seekers. Determining whether my clients are eligible for a public benefit is also difficult when the term “asylum seeker” is not included on official documents, or is used in a limited way. I encountered this when reviewing LDSS-4579, the New York State Non-Citizen Eligibility Desk Aid, to determine if a client is eligible for Safety Net Assistance in New York State. There is only one category on this document that clearly mentions asylum seekers: “Asylum Applicant with Employment Authorization.”
But what about asylum seekers like my clients who are in defensive asylum proceedings or who are waiting for their employment authorization? Well, on LDSS-4579, they fall under the category of “other status,” which is defined as a “non-citizen that is unable to provide sufficient documentation.” This is a vague category. Without directly saying it, this makes asylum seekers like my clients undocumented and does not represent how they are in the process of seeking protection in our country. They have essentially been built out of “the system.”
Not being clear about the distinction between asylum seekers and refugees, or using the term “asylum seeker” or “asylum applicant” in a way that does not encompass people at all points of the asylum seeking process is exclusive and inefficient. It prevents asylum seekers like my clients from receiving resources as soon as possible and makes it harder for social workers to quickly determine how to help.
My experience has also taught me that we not only need to use the term “asylum seeker” clearly, but also compassionately. When comparing state policies during my internship, I came across an official document created by the governor of Iowa that states, “Refugees resettling to Iowa should not be confused with “asylum seekers” who are attempting to enter the U.S., usually at our southern border, without going through the strict refugee vetting process.”
To me, this statement conveys what lawyer Bryan Stevenson, director of the Equal Justice Initiative, calls “presumption of guilt” or “presumptive criminality.” Stevenson uses this term to refer to the way people of color in the United States are automatically assumed to be guilty. Without taking away from this important truth, I would argue that asylum seekers, particularly those crossing the Southern border, are often also assumed to be guilty.
But my clients are not criminals. They are people fleeing dangerous circumstances and seeking a better life. Yet they are forced to live in limbo on the margins of our society with few resources while their cases are pending as if they are criminals. We need to fight for clarity, precision, and compassion in how we use the term “asylum seeker” so that the people it represents (all of them) are no longer marginalized, can receive necessary services as soon as possible, and can claim the space they deserve.
---
Notas de campo: la importancia del término “buscador de asilo” y cómo lo usamos.
Te invito a participar en un ejercicio rápido conmigo: abre una nueva pestaña en tu navegador de Internet y ve a Google. Escribe "servicios sociales para buscadores de asilo". Una vez que se desplaza más allá de los anuncios, es probable que vea una búsqueda en Google Maps de organizaciones de servicios sociales cercanas a tu ubicación. ¿Qué son? ¿A quién sirven? Ahora, sigue desplazándose en el navegador. ¿Qué más surge?
Para mí, que vivo en uno de los cinco distritos de la ciudad de Nueva York, las tres principales organizaciones que aparecen en Google Maps tienen los términos "refugiado" o "refugiados" en su título. Y, cuando sigo desplazándome en el buscador, veo enlaces para organizaciones y programas que atienden específicamente a refugiados y asilados (personas a las que ya se les ha otorgado asilo). Pero, ¿qué pasa con los buscadores de asilo?
Como pasante en Servicios Comunitarios de Caridades Católicas en la ciudad de Nueva York, yo trabajo con buscadores de asilo que cruzan la frontera sur de los Estados Unidos, muchos de América Central y del Sur. Todos mis clientes están en procedimientos de asilo defensivo (en resumen, esperando que un juez decida si son elegibles para el asilo, un proceso que puede llevar meses). Mis clientes no pueden trabajar legalmente y a menudo no tienen suficiente dinero para pagar por comida, ropa y vivienda. Ellos no son aprobados para los servicios de reasentamiento como los refugiados y contrariamente a la creencia popular, no son elegibles para la mayoría de los beneficios públicos.
Encontrar servicios ha sido un desafío, especialmente cuando las organizaciones no mencionan claramente si atienden o no a los solicitantes de asilo. Determinar si mis clientes son elegibles para un beneficio público también es difícil cuando el término “buscador de asilo” no está incluido en los documentos oficiales o se usa de manera limitada. Me encontré esto cuando revisé la LDSS-4579, la guía que se puede usar para determinar si personas no elegibles como ciudadanos son elegibles por recursos del estado de New York. Me di cuenta de que solo hay una categoría en este documento que menciona claramente a los buscadores de asilo: “Solicitante de asilo con autorización de empleo”.
Pero, ¿qué pasa con los buscadores de asilo como mis clientes que están en procedimientos de asilo defensivo o que están esperando su autorización de empleo? Bueno, en LDSS-4579, ellos entran en la categoría de "otro estatus", que se define como "no-ciudadano que no puede proporcionar suficiente documentación". Esta es una categoría vaga. Sin decirlo directamente, esto convierte a los buscadores de asilo como mis clientes en indocumentados y no representa quienes son ellos en el proceso de búsqueda de protección en nuestro país. Ellos han sido prácticamente construidos fuera “del sistema”.
No ser claro acerca de la distinción entre buscador de asilo y refugiados, o usar el término “buscador de asilo” o “solicitante de asilo” de una manera que no abarque a las personas en todos los puntos del proceso de solicitud de asilo es excluyente e ineficiente. Impide que los solicitantes de asilo como mis clientes reciban recursos lo antes posible y dificulta que los trabajadores sociales determinen rápidamente cómo ayudar.
Mi experiencia también me ha enseñado que no solo debemos usar el término “buscador de asilo” con claridad, sino también con compasión. Al comparar las políticas estatales durante mi pasantía, me encontré con un documento oficial creado por el gobernador de Iowa que dice: "Los refugiados que se reasientan en Iowa no deben confundirse con los "buscadores de asilo" que intentan ingresar a los EE. UU., generalmente en nuestra frontera sur, sin pasar por el estricto proceso de selección de refugiados”.
Para mí, esta declaración transmite lo que el abogado Bryan Stevenson, director de Equal Justice Initiative, llama “presunción de culpabilidad” o “presunta criminalidad”. Stevenson usa este término para referirse a la forma en que se asume automáticamente que las personas de color en los Estados Unidos son culpables. Sin restar importancia a esta importante verdad, yo argumentaría que a menudo los buscadores de asilo, en particular los que cruzan la frontera sur, son asumidos como culpables.
Pero mis clientes no son delincuentes. Son personas que huyen de circunstancias peligrosas y buscan una vida mejor. Sin embargo, mientras sus casos están pendientes se ven obligados a vivir en el limbo, al margen de nuestra sociedad, con pocos recursos, como si fueran criminales. Necesitamos luchar por la claridad, la precisión y la compasión en la forma en que usamos el término “buscador de asilo” para que las personas a las que representa (todas ellas) ya no estén marginadas, puedan recibir los servicios necesarios lo antes posible y puedan reclamar el espacio que se merecen.
Read More From Our Community
LGBTQ+ People and Health Inequity
Tanzilya Oren
In New York City, over 50,000 people, i.e., 4% of the 8.38 million residents, identify as non-binary and transgender people. We do not know precisely the number of immigrants among this population. Alex Trifonov, a community health representative and patient navigator at NYU Langone Health, on May 11, 2022, presented on the issue of health equity at an event at RUSA LGBTQ+. What is known is that stress caused by minority status and stigma leads to chronic stress and cardiovascular problems. Chronic stress, in turn, can cause substance use and abuse, addiction, and mental health issues.
Mr.Trifonov specifically spoke about health inequity among LGBTQ+ people regarding cancer. He talked about very low levels, lower than immigrant populations, of preventative healthcare utilization among LGBTQ+ patients due to the abovementioned minority stress and consequent avoidance of medical care. At the same time, across the United States, over 80,000 LGBTQ+ people receive a cancer diagnosis every year. Lesbians and bisexual people have a double risk of acquiring cancer diagnoses. Transgender and nonbinary patients have double the chance of getting cancers caused by infectious diseases. Gay men are diagnosed with anal and prostate cancers and cancers caused by HIV younger than other patients.
The Pain Within
Elvira Brodskaya
Being an asylum seeker means being in constant mental pain. Is there a solution?
When I came to the US, I felt l like I'd been handed a new life. Everything seemed so new and fresh, full of opportunities I never had before. And also, everything seemed so safe.
Seeking Work in One's Professional Field of Expertise: Resources for Obtaining Equivalency of Credentials in the U.S. as an Asylum Seeker or Migrant
Julia
As an immigrant to the US, one’s ability to find meaningful, dignified, and safe employment varies greatly based on one’s recognized legal status. For asylum seekers who are waiting for their asylum claim to be processed, legal job opportunities are limited and risk of human rights violations is high. Although asylum policy in the US is challenging at best, in NYC there are many community organizations working to fill some of the gaps and help provide services for asylum seekers and other migrants that are eager to find meaningful, dignified, and safe employment.
Asylum seekers and other migrants face challenges in finding meaningful work for various reasons. Difficulty obtaining recognition for studies completed in their home country, limited access to educational credentials and related paperwork due to relocation, certification differences, and language barriers are among the most pervasive. Difficulty transferring professional credentials from one’s home country to the United States is a challenge preventing many asylum seekers from finding employment in which they can apply and use their expertise.
My Internship with Unaccompanied Minors: Learning About Resilience and Hope
Sandy
A group of teenage girls sat silently at three tables in the dining room. The girls wore identical gray sweatpants and sweaters but had different hairstyles. It was shortly before 9 am. They had eaten breakfast and were waiting to walk over to their classroom. The girls were small in height, had brown skin, and didn’t look very excited to head to school. Pretty much like other typical teenage girls. As I made my way through the dining room, I said, “Buenos Dias Chicas!” A few girls responded with “Buenos Dias”, some smiled back, and others remained silent.
It took a while for the girls to become familiar with seeing me three times a week. The “clients” of this department were unaccompanied children waiting to reunite with their families. Teenagers from different countries, some spoke more than one language. For the first few weeks, I’ve only listened to their stories and learned why these adolescents chose to leave their homes, how they arrived at the U.S/Mexico border, and how they were adjusting to the program. Some departed their countries for better educational opportunities; some left to search for work to support their families, and others were looking to escape violence or abuse. Many of these child migrants, however, traveled alone. And carried their traumas, alone.
Ambiguous Loss
Sedef
It is hard to be the newcomer, the new person, or the one who is so unfamiliar with a different and foreign environment. Anyone around the world experiences anxiety stepping into a new place within a group of new people. We usually rely on our acquaintances and friends to introduce and make this transition smoother. But what happens when we are forced out of our familiar surroundings and need to leave our hometowns, homes, and states to flee from some disaster to a place that we know no one?
Stepping into to unknown is already hard. When we add the multitudes of losses we experience to the existing fear and anxiety of the unfamiliar and unknown, it is even more challenging. A migrant who had to leave their home without the guarantee of going back had to leave more than just their home behind. Sometimes, people leave behind their parents, and sometimes, they have to leave their kids, spouses, lovers, and pets. Sometimes they even need to leave behind the familiar sounds of their mother tongue. Songs of the local birds, the taste of the usual morning cup, the sounds of the local streets, the sights of their neighborhood, the aroma of the meals shared with the dear faces of loved ones, the way the sun lays its rays before it sets in their bedroom, and all those comfortably familiar details are left behind. The layers and layers of losses are there in every migrant's story.
How do you feel?
Daniel
“When the truth is finally recognized, survivors can begin their recovery”
- Judith Herman M.D.
Overview of Gender-Based Violence Against Women (GBVAW)
Chloe Sarantopoulos
Across the globe, 1 in 3 women–an estimated 736 million–are subjected to physical or sexual violence perpetrated by an intimate partner, or sexual violence from a non-partner-–a number that has remained largely unchanged over the past decade (WHO, 2021).
Unfortunately, this alarming statistic is likely to be significantly lower than the true figure, given the high levels of stigma and under-reporting of abuse. Gender-Based Violence Against Women (GBVAW) disproportionality affects low and lower-middle-income countries and regions, with twenty-two percent of women living in ‘least developed countries’ subjected to Intimate Partner Violence (IPV) in the past 12 months (WHO, 2021). The intersecting and compounding nature of violence against forced migrant women prevails across temporal and geographical contexts. GBVAW is rampant around the world and an impending cause for migration, forcing countless women and children to flee abuse at home and attempt to seek safety in a new country.