Queens Detention
Center
Welcomes Asylum Seekers
Masha Rumer
Most people would argue that it is not good manners to handcuff one’s
guests. The Department of Homeland Security (DHS), however, doesn’t
agree.
When a non-criminal asylum seeker without a valid visa or passport
crosses the US border, there is a chance he will be handcuffed and locked
away for months and sometimes even years. The 1951 Geneva Convention
defined the asylum seeker or refugee, as a person with a “well-founded
fear of persecution on account of his/her race, religion, nationality,
membership in a particular social group or political opinion.”
The undocumented asylum seeker in the US is interviewed by DHS at the
airport or other point of entry. If he or she is deemed dangerous or
cannot demonstrate that his or her life is in danger, the asylum seeker
is deported immediately, a process known as “expedited removal.”
If, however, the asylum seeker convinces DHS that they have a “credible
fear” of returning back to the country of origin, he or she is
shackled, taken to jail, clothes exchanged for an inmate’s uniform.
According to a report by Human Rights First, a human rights organization
of pro bono attorneys and legal service providers, over 20,000 non-citizens
in immigration, many of them children, are locked away in county jails,
state prisons, or detention centers across the US. An immigrant can
sometimes be detained if he or she claims to have come to the country
seeking asylum while holding a different, and therefore improper, visa.
The Queens Detention Center, formerly owned by Wackenhut, a private
provider of correctional facilities, is one of fifteen detention centers
in the country. It is a grim, windowless brick warehouse, located in
Jamaica, Queens, on 150th Avenue and 183rd Street. There is no way of
recognizing it from the outside, as it sports neither a sign nor a building
number. Yet, it houses 200 detainees, kept in large dormitories and
a few solitary rooms, with public showers and bright fluorescent lights
kept on day and night. In order to fall asleep at night, detainees wrap
blankets or towels around their heads. Families are often split up and
parents and children sent to different facilities. Detainees cannot
receive gifts or packages in the mail, with the exception of money or
paper materials.
A thirty-something Armenian man, who will be referred to as Vardan
for the sake of anonymity, has been in the Queens Detention center for
four months. He fled his native country when his life was endangered
by local conflicts, only to be detained upon arrival at JFK: DHS thought
he looked Chechnyan and, hence, like a potential terrorist. Upon inspection,
Vardan’s $8,000 visa turned out to have been previously used by
somebody else. Vardan was shackled for thirty hours in the airport and
was eventually driven to Queens and given a navy blue uniform.
“It’s like a psychiatric ward here,” he says in Russian
through a glass screen with a barely-audible metal speaker in the center
during our thirty-minute conversation, the maximum time allowed for
visitation. “All you do is sleep, eat, and work. You can loose
your mind like this.” Work pays $1 per day to those who choose
to do it, and involves duties like mopping and toilet scrubbing, he
says. And, when it costs him 18 cents per minute to make a local call
and 94 cents per minute to call his wife and small son in Armenia, the
earnings don’t last very long.
The detainees spend one hour a day outside, with “outside”
consisting of a small room with heavy wire on the ceiling. “I
haven’t seen the sky in four months. The only time I saw America
was from the car—when I was driven here from the airport and when
I had a tooth pulled by their dentist,” Vardan says.
The conditions in the detention centers are often appalling. Complaints
have been made across the country, addressing issues such as the smell
of human waste in the dorms, failure to provide women with proper sanitary
supplies, failure to provide medical help, and abuse and theft by guards.
In 1995, the detainees in the Elizabeth, New Jersey facility rioted
in protest of these conditions. Although DHS has recently issued a set
of operating standards, they are frequently not enforced.
The wait is excruciating. It takes six to eight months on average to
get a hearing where the detainee’s fate is decided by an immigration
judge. Prisoners of torture, war victims, survivors of abuse, rape,
and other atrocities have to wait along with all the rest. Many don’t
speak English. Many are traumatized by the conditions they have escaped,
only to find themselves held in similar circumstances for months in
the US. Sonam, a 30 year-old Buddhist nun, fled Tibet with a false passport
because she could not practice her religion freely and saw family and
friends tortured for their beliefs. After her arrival in the US, she
was locked away in a Virginia facility for half a year, unable to communicate
with anybody, except when occasionally visited by an interpreter and
attorney.
Eventually, the detainee is granted asylum, released on parole, or
deported. A survey by Human Rights First reports that it has become
especially difficult to get release from detention on parole since September
11.
The detainee has the right to appeal the judge’s decision, but
the process can take years while he or she remains locked up. A related
case that received significant news coverage is that of Viktor Odnovyun
and Oleksiy Galushka, Ukranian grassroots activists who fled the Ukraine
in March 1999. They were detained for four years in various facilities,
including Wackenhut, where they participated in a hunger strike along
with other inmates. The two were eventually granted asylum in March
of this year.
Generally, a detainee can be represented by a pro bono attorney against
the DHS prosecutor. However, there is an immense shortage of pro bono
help, and few can afford to hire a lawyer. Some choose to represent
themselves, using detention center materials to prepare their defense.
Will Coley, who works for the American Friends Service Committee, an
organization providing legal and social assistance to current and former
detainees, says, “There are complaints about [these libraries]
being kept up to date. Attorneys feel there isn’t enough information
for people to represent themselves.”
Voluntary organizations exist to help the detainees, advocate for improvement
of their conditions, fight discrimination, and expedite the review process.
The American Friends Service Committee, for example, provides legal
and social help. Will Coley, explaining his work with the network, says
that he assists those who had been released with emergency housing and
a social welfare program, and “plugs people into job training
and benefit programs.” The Sojourners Ministry at the Riverside
Church, headed by Aster Kidane, a former refugee herself, organizes
visits to the Queens and Elizabeth facilities to boost inmate morale
and put them in touch with various service providers.
In spite of the voluntary organization involvement, the system of detaining
undocumented asylum seekers is inherently flawed. In addition to the
unnecessarily long waiting period, the inhumane conditions of detention
and the lack of legal counsel and materials, there is blanket discrimination
against persons from countries in the Middle East and South Asia, especially
in the wake of September 11.
Another concern is that there are no codified rules for parole or asylum.
DHS parole guidelines claim that detainees must “meet the credible
fear standard, […] establish identity and community ties, and
[not be] subject to any possible bars to asylum involving violence or
misconduct.” Although the government does not make public the
figures of the percentage deported, many human rights organizations
have noted that these guidelines are not followed, and that asylum seekers
who meet the requirements are sometimes turned away.
A final concern is the cost of detention. According to DHS, it costs
$85 per day to detain each inmate. Vardan, however believes the figure
to be as high as $200. “It’s stupid that the government
should pay for us being here. It’s a waste of the country’s
money,” he said.
The United States ought to continue its incipient tradition of providing
safe haven for the persecuted. On the other hand, the US cannot afford
to accept everybody who wishes to enter, as the results of poor border
control by the INS have proven to be destructive in the past. According
to DHS, in 2003 alone the Department received an estimated 46,945 applications
for asylum—a drop from over 150,000 in 1995. Questions remain:
where does one draw the line, and how can the process be managed fairly,
efficiently, and without discrimination?
In the meantime, thousands of innocent people needlessly languish behind
bars all over the country, while taxpayers sponsor their imprisonment.
After all of the time and money wasted in an American prison, Vardan
will in fact be deported. He will not appeal his case, as he cannot
be behind bars any longer. And his case is one of thousands.
Clearly, changes must be implemented in the way detention and deportation
determinations are made, the length of time it takes the government
to review cases, and in the inhumane treatment of immigrants, many of
whom have already experienced their share of incarceration, torture,
and shame.
Masha Rumer is a student in the English department, focusing her
studies on New York culture and history.
To learn more about the detention of asylum seekers in the
U.S. or to get involved, you are invited to attend a screening
of the film “Chasing Freedom,” followed by a discussion
with community activists and former detainees. Look for postings
at the Graduate Center in the upcoming weeks for date and location,
or contact the Advocate staff for more info.
|