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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.