Week Two- Two Questions
Why did you leave?
Are you afraid to go back?
It’s impossible to say that talking to an asylum seeker boils down to these two main questions. In fact, the workshop I attended during my second week at GAIN emphasized the different lines of questioning needed depending on the client's openness. Yet, those two questions I’ve learned at least start the conversation.
The training was hosted by the Innovation Law Lab. The Lab trains attorneys and law students for their pro se workshops which are hosted monthly for immigrants seeking asylum. The workshops are meant to guide applicants to fill out their own applications, instead of waiting on the availability of a pro bono attorney or the money for a private one. This way, undocumented immigrants can at least have their application filed before they locate an attorney to handle the rest of the case. Most importantly, without submitting this form, called an I-589, asylum seekers cannot obtain work permits (which can be applied only 180 days after their application is submitted). If the applications aren’t submitted one year after entering the U.S., it becomes almost impossible for asylum to be granted — which is saying a lot in a jurisdiction that grants asylum for only about 2% of applicants.
Applicants are eligible for asylum if they have suffered persecution or have a credible fear of persecution because of: their race; religion; nationality; membership in a particular group; or, political opinion. Further, there must be a nexus between the prosecutor's knowledge of one (or more) of the five characteristics that qualify as protected grounds for asylum and the persecution suffered. FYI, for those reading who maybe don’t know, refugees are people trying to enter the U.S.; asylum seekers are in the U.S. seeking legal status to stay.
As I do more client intakes, I’ve turned to those two questions from above. I’ve heard lots of stories already: accounts of war taxes, gang intimidation, sexual abuse, police brutality, trafficking and much more. It’s hard not to feel like I’m forcing these people to relive their trauma. At the same time, I know the sad truth is that boiling down a person's most gut-wrenching details of their life to a few powerful lines on the application can improve the odds for approval.
Some applicants are quick to divulge and I have to balance the need for them to have someone listen with GAIN’s need for me to guide them towards providing the necessary information. Others are more reluctant to share, responding only with “yes” and “no.” Then, there are those who may not even know certain details of their life, ones they find ordinary and not worth mentioning, could be crucial for their application. For example, people asked if they’ve been a victim of a crime may answer in the negative if they didn’t report it. Others may call asking for asylum but upon some prodding, I learn they may also qualify for the visas given to victims of violence. Most applicants also struggle with timelines, requiring me to be more strategic; asking questions that might trigger their memory like “do you remember if your son was born yet” or “do you remember if you were working for X at that time.” Being the first person a lot of these asylum seekers speak to has taken me back to my time as a journalist: adapting my tone and questions and trying to get only the details I need without digging too deep into any trauma.
As painful and heartbreaking as these conversations can be, the ending of the conversation can be just as painful. We can’t help everyone. There are the logistical and resource reasons for that, which I’m sure all NGOs experience. Then there’s the reason that in a place like Atlanta, your story may fall under the reasons for asylum but it most likely won't be “enough” for a judge.
Now, that's not the most cheerful note to end this post on. If you're reading, know that these people are "enough" for GAIN. And, they're "enough" for many of the other organizations we try to refer them to if we can't help.