Month: October 2024 (Page 1 of 4)

I think that the most compelling thing from the NPR article titled, Russia deports thousands of Ukrainian children. Investigators say that’s a war crime” that they call out Russia and make it clear that what they did to Ukrainian children isn’t right. I think that Russia’s statements on what these Ukrainian children are doing in Russia demonstrate the frightening reality that relies on the honesty of foreign countries. For Russia, hiding what the detainment of these children entails is a matter of lying and deceiving other countries that have these children’s best interests in mind. I think that a thought that came up throughout this article for me, too, was just how difficult it must be for these researchers to find out truths about what is happening to migrants and distinguish between what is true and what other countries are promoting. For the Yale team to claim and verify that the Russian government has detained at least 6,000 children, the amount of effort that comes with proving these governments accountable is an astronomical next step in protecting refugees from types of distress camps that may subject them to. The re-education programs that the article details also sound like complete brainwashing propaganda to groom these Ukrainian children into being a new generation of Russian government advocates. In the article, this was apparent to me when it read, ​​”There’s a very large amount of material related to the patriotic education that they undergo while they are in camps,” he added. The lessons are designed, he says, to instill loyalty to Russia and promote Moscow’s version of the war.” 

The TIME article was the next assigned reading I looked at. What caught my attention with this reading was how this program could categorize and organize these war crimes. With so many war crimes either going unattended or not receiving the reaction they should have given, they are hard to change countries and keep them accountable for their actions. Tangible programming like the apps, chatbots, and websites designed by these Ukrainian officials can help ensure that war crimes are being kept track of and that countries are being held appropriately accountable. The article raises this concern and idea outright, stating that “What all this will yield is still unclear. International war crimes cases are notoriously difficult to prosecute.” Despite what seems to be a public opinion that is not necessarily super sure how this technology will be used, hearing how AI and these various levels of technology will be helpful in war, war crimes, and conflicts offered a glimpse of some of the more optimistic elements of these technologies. 

The following article I read by Foreign Affairs did an incredible job at depicting just how disgusting these war crimes are and just how crucial it is for those who identify as Ukrainians to receive justice for what has been done to their people. It seems like a constant cat-and-mouse game of countries committing crimes and quickly trying to hide the details of their actions. Consistently, the victim country is attempting to chase after the truth and to hold the “cat” accountable for what they have done to the other “mice.”

The YouTube documentary was incredibly insightful in terms of what the future of journalism could look like, especially given that technology is only continuing to develop and become even more profound than it is now. I also liked the idea of open-source journalism and the role that open-source journalism may play in unbiased reporting and authentic reporting. One of the earliest examples that reinforced the significance of this type of reporting was the fact that Chinese officials completely denied a camp existed. However, open-source researchers were able to shine a light on those denials.

“Día de Muertos,” Gina, who uses they/them pronouns, exclaims as they pull out an embroidery hoop. In the center of the hoop is a half-stitched red heart, framed by layers of gold string. Sequins catch rays of light that dance along the rim. 

Día de Muertos, or Day of the Dead, commemorates the departed and welcomes the return of their spirits, according to the Smithsonian. Although rooted in Mexican and Central American cultures, Día de Muertos has become widely celebrated by Latinos in the U.S.

Gina, who came to the U.S. as an asylum-seeker in 2022, used to stitch in Ecuador, their home country. But now, Gina’s passion for art lives in Philadelphia—teaching art therapy classes to newly-arrived children. 

“In my place of origin, I was arrested, not only for my sexuality, but I was also a victim of sexual violence,” Gina says. 

In 2023, the U.S. Department of State identified sexual violence as a “significant human rights issue” in Ecuador. No laws explicitly criminalize “corrective rape” of LGBTQI+ individuals.

On the morning of November 7, 2022, Gina boarded a plane from Ecuador to Nicaragua. It was a Sunday—which meant Gina could leave unnoticed. “My flight was at 2:00 a.m.,” they explain. The oldest of three children, they didn’t tell their brother, sister, or mother. 

From Nicaragua, Gina made the next leg of the journey to Mexico by walking and hitch-hiking with other immigrants. “I only have $20 in my pocket,” Gina says.

“I came to the United States in December 2022,” they explain. Once at the border in Texas, detention center staff took Gina’s fingerprints to run them through what officials told Gina was a criminal check. Staff separated groups by gender; Gina was detained with the rest of the women. 

“Two weeks,” Gina says as they struggle to remember how long they were detained for. Keeping track of time in the detention center is a near impossible task. “It’s so difficult because all the lights are on all the time,” Gina explains. “All the time you feel cold.”

Gina says that they were given food twice a day, in the mornings and evenings. “We were eating only apples, or water, or chips—a little box of chips—nothing more,” they say.

Eventually, Gina says they were transported from the detention center to a community-based organization in Texas. They had no information about the next leg of the trip. “I don’t really have family here,” Gina says. “I don’t have a plan when I crossed the border.”

The only U.S.-based contact Gina had was a man in Queens, New York. He was older than Gina but had studied at Gina’s alma mater, University of La Rioja. At every juncture of the journey, he would send Gina incessant messages: “Are you coming?,” “Are you on your way?,” Gina recalls.

It was in the community-based organization that Gina heard of a bus going to Philadelphia. “I think, you know, ‘Wow, this is really next to New York and I can walk,’” Gina says.

“There was definitely a feeling in Texas that they wanted us out of there.”

The bus that Gina ultimately boarded was part of Texas Governor Greg Abbott’s Transportation Program. The program has bussed over 3,400 migrants to Philadelphia since November 2022, according to the Governor’s Office. 

It took three days for the bus to reach Philadelphia. During the ride, Gina explains the man sitting next to them was pushed against them, and later began touching Gina. Gina felt powerless to speak up. 

Stops for food were not allowed either. “We don’t have time to eat food,” Gina recalls. “I had a really bad experience.”

Once in Philadelphia, Gina was received by local non-profits. Philadelphia’s churches also stepped in, says Manuel Portillo, Director of Community Engagement at The Welcoming Center. “They partner with public health to try to provide support to these people that come in buses,” he says. “Those were the people—the grassroots organizations—that really did the work.”

“They gave us food, clothing, and a place to spend the night,” Gina says. 

But even after Gina began to settle in Philadelphia, the man from Queens continued to send Gina messages: “Get to New York. Get to New York. You’re not here yet.” He wanted Gina to perform sexual favors for him. 

Gina decided to trick him. “I have Covid, I can’t do contact with anybody,” Gina recalls texting the man. His messages stopped. 

Messages from Ecuador, however, continue. “It’s really hard because the people who hurt me, they want to find me,” Gina explains. 

Gina receives text messages from their friends in Ecuador: “The father of Gina, dead,” the messages read. Gina knows it’s a lie—a calculated attempt to get Gina to return to Ecuador. 

But returning to Ecuador isn’t an option for Gina. “I miss my mom,” they say. “Sometimes I text my mom and say, ‘Hi mom, I’m fine.’ But my mom doesn’t know who I work on, who I am. She only knows I’m here in the United States.”

“I’m really lucky living here in Philly,” Gina says. “I don’t have family here but I have many friends, my community, and they support me.” 

“They believe in me and my talents,” Gina says as they tuck the embroidery hoop for Día de Muertos into their backpack. 

“I’m wearing La Catrina,” a tall skeleton figure that has become a symbol of Día de Muertos, Gina explains as they hold up their phone. Her screen displays an Instagram account that reads, “lacalacaflaphilly.” 

Lacalaca Philly, which organizes Philadelphia’s Day of the Dead celebrations, was first spearheaded by a Mexican immigrant merchant, says Magda Martinez, Chief Operating Office of the Welcoming Center. 

“First year we did it, we had $300,” she says. “Now they get over 1,500 people every year.”

“In every community, there’s what I call a bridge person—a person who somehow bridges their community with multiple communities,” Martinez says. For Martinez, the bridge person was the merchant who brought Spanish-speaking communities together to celebrate rebirth through Día de Muertos.  

Now, Gina bridges communities through their work at Juntos—which translates to “together” in English—one of the non-profits Portillo says was instrumental in supporting the immigrants who were bussed to Philadelphia. “I’m collaborating with different organizations, making mural arts,” Gina says. 

“I’m still afraid that the people who hurt me will find me,” Gina says. “But I also really want to live, and now I have my community—and they need me.” 

“That motivates me to get up every morning and fight for what I believe in.”

Sources: 

Gina, Juntos Ambassador Magda Martinez, Chief Operating Office, The Welcoming Center Manuel Portillo, Director of Community Engagement, The Welcoming Center  https://latino.si.edu/learn/teaching-and-learning-resources/day-dead-resources https://gov.texas.gov/news/post/texas-cracks-down-on-violent-venezuelan-gang-tren-de-aragua  https://www.state.gov/reports/2023-country-reports-on-human-rights-practices/ecuador/

Reading pieces like “Seventy Miles in Hell”, I understand even more how hard and risky these journeys are. In the Darién Gap, for instance, migrants leave behind things like shoes or even bits of fabric tied to trees to show which way is safe. It’s a constant struggle against hunger, thirst, and the threat of injury, and this piece really shows that deterrence policies aren’t working. People are desperate enough to try anyway, and these policies only make their journeys harder. Having colored fabric indicate where they are meant to walk or avoid showcases the close community and desire for survival which is generalized through the desire for a better life.

Jonathan Blitzer’s piece dives into U.S. immigration policies, which often try to scare people away rather than actually help. As I read it, I kept thinking: if these policies only make people take more dangerous routes, shouldn’t there be a different approach? It seems like we need to rethink U.S. policy to offer more realistic support, rather than leaving people “trapped” as undocumented or pushing them toward even riskier routes. The U.S has these patterns repeat throughout time yet it feels like there is little overall change.

One interesting but controversial tool created to help migrants in the desert is the Transborder Immigrant Tool. This GPS-like system helps people find water sources, which can be a lifesaver. But as journalists, covering a tool like this isn’t easy. We can spread awareness about it, but if we aren’t careful, we could accidentally expose resources that need to stay hidden to protect people. So, there’s a big question here: what’s our responsibility as journalists when it comes to reporting on things that directly help people in danger? Should we focus on telling the story without risking their safety? I think being a journalist isn’t just about telling stories—it’s about honoring the people in those stories by being thoughtful and respectful. This is also a method of art which also brings into question the intersection of art and advocacy. In the Darien Gap piece, I found that information about the color of a safe passage might leave those throughout the path exposed.

And that’s where empathy comes in. Good journalism isn’t just about facts; it’s about understanding people’s experiences and treating them with care. How can we report on migration in a way that shows the struggle, respects the tools people use to survive, and maybe even makes policymakers think differently? Should there be more safe resources, like water and shelter, along these migration routes so people don’t have to risk their lives for basic needs? By focusing on empathy and asking these questions, we can try to tell these stories in a way that both informs people and makes them care.

In The New Yorker article, “Biden’s Dilemma at the Border,” we see how hard it is to make real changes to U.S. border policies. While leaders have tried to humanize migrants and reduce harsh tactics, these policies still don’t match the tough reality that migrants face. Even with new policies, the current system doesn’t address what migrants actually need to survive. This raises a bigger question: Could the problems at the border be less about lacking the desire to help and more about issues with leadership and a system that’s unable to keep up? If so, this means we might need to shift our perspective, focusing on deeper, structural changes in leadership and process rather than just new policies. The article suggests that it’s not just about changing rules but about fixing the whole system to meet the real, complex needs of people trying to migrate today.

Kristin Hopkins-Calcek knew that when former President Trump mentioned the Haitian migrants in Springfield, Ohio, her town could be the next one in his sights.

The comment came during Trump’s September 10 debate with Vice President Kamala Harris, in which Trump falsely claimed that Haitian migrants there were “eating the pets of the people that live there.” Hopkins-Calcek, the borough-council president of Charleroi, Pennsylvania, said that as the town’s leadership watched the ensuing events in Springfield unfold, they began preparing, in case something did happen.

“I was worried it was coming, because I knew the people that would you know would reference Charleroi in order to add to the narrative about immigrants being such a negative in this country,” she said.

Then it happened: on September 12, in a rally in Tucson, Arizona, Trump used Charleroi as another example of what he and his base believe is a “migrant invasion” in the United States.

“What a beautiful name, but it’s not so beautiful now,” he said about Charleroi. “It has experienced a 2,000 percent increase in the population of Haitian migrants under Kamala Harris. So, Pennsylvania, remember this when you go to vote. This is a small town, and all of a sudden they got thousands of people … The town is virtually bankrupt. This flood of illegal aliens is bringing massive crime to the town and every place near it.”

“I wasn’t completely surprised,” Hopkins-Calcek remembered. “We were fearful that it was going to come to Charleroi because we knew we had a similar situation [to Springfield]. But it’s incredulous, right? You don’t think that it will, until it does.” 

Trump used Charleroi as an example in multiple rallies since. Hopkins-Calcek says that none of it is true.

“We haven’t had any violence. In fact, our crime is down,” she said. “Our statistics are looking great here in town. Our economy is better. We have businesses that are opening.”

The comments – lies – about migrants in the United States have been a focal point of all of Donald Trump’s campaign rallies, as well as other “MAGA” politicians, from eating pets in Springfield to gang violence in Aurora, Colorado. This weekend at a rally at Madison Square Garden in New York City, Trump’s senior advisor for policy Stephen Miller told the crowd that “America is for Americans and Americans only” – echoing Adolf Hitler’s 1934 cry to the German people that “Germany is for Germans and Germans only.”

Trump himself repeated previous claims of a “migrant invasion,” saying, “the United States is now an occupied country” and that Vice President Kamala Harris “has resettled [immigrants] into your communities to prey upon innocent American citizens.”

Professor Jacob Shapiro, Professor of Politics and International Affairs at Princeton University, says that politicians like Trump know better than to spread lies about migrants, but it’s all for “political purposes.”

“It’s lying for political gain,” he explained. “He takes nuggets of truth to make exaggerated points.”

As for Trump’s supposed plan to deport all migrants, illegal and legal, Shapiro says it’s all part of the scheme.

“It’s a fantasy plan to stave off unfavorable realities,” Shapiro said, alluding to sociologist Lee Clarke’s book “Mission Improbable.” “It’s unrealistic, but it sounds good to his people.”

Hopkins-Calcek has a theory about why her town was targeted by Trump.

“​​There are some people who have ties to the Republican Party that are in this area, and I’m sure that’s how the word of this got out,” she said. “And unfortunately, there are no guard rails, right? So in this day and age, it just doesn’t matter who’s hurt by things. If it gets votes or sows division, then it’s allowable and supported by Trump and the Republican Party.”

“His entire campaign has been about fear mongering and division and misinformation. So [Charleroi] was another tool,” she continued. “We’re not happy that our town is being used, not only for political gain through the immigration discussion, but also through the job loss discussion.”

Trump’s lies have been harmful to the migrants and their advocates. Hopkins-Calcek says that the Ku Klux Klan and other white supremacist groups have distributed flyers in town. She says that the town has liaisons with the different migrant communities, and that the liaison for the Haitian community “has let them know that it’s probably best if they keep it more low key.”

“There’s an undercurrent of fear,” she said. “[White supremacist groups] have been given a pass, you know, because of the comments that were made to show their ugliness.” 

Her comments echo previous comments from Pastor Carl Ruby, an advocate for Haitian migrants in Springfield previously, who previously described the situation in Springfield: “I think there were a total of somewhere between 30 and 50 bomb threats. Schools canceled, hospitals closed, grocery stores closed. … Everyone was nervous. People are afraid. My family is very afraid. Some people have been afraid to come to church because of the publicity that I have had as a spokesman for the Haitians.”

The migrants arrived in Charleroi – legally – and took jobs that weren’t being taken. They came from all over, from Haiti to Liberia. Now, Hopkins-Calcek says, they’ve become a “wonderful” part of the Charleroi community.

“​​We’ve been working to slowly integrate their culture into ours, and we had a very successful year in that we’ve incorporated their culture and music into our thorough events throughout the last not only the last year, but the last few years,” she explained. “I have never in my entire life met a group of people that are so kind, nice, loving, happy and want to belong. Want to follow the rules of law. Want to follow the culture. Want to change their culture, to fit in.”

Despite all of the hate that has been directed at her community, Hopkins-Calcek also has hope for a peaceful future for Charleroi.

“We’re way behind the rest of the country as far as being tolerant of things and people that don’t look like ourselves,” she said. “Just because we’re behind doesn’t mean we’re not going to get there. We’re just hopeful that, moving forward, we can all live in peace.”

I love the story about the Darién Gap by the Atlantic… I just think it’s tremendous. The stories from this week have raised more questions than provided answers, personally. Firstly, I want to interrogate the impact of the Darién story – it made waves when it came out, front page and cover story on their edition which feels huge for a migration story. But since then, what has changed? I have google alerts set for news about the Darién gap, and it’s always the same news. At this point we know migrants from all around the world are coming through it (Africans, Asians, etc) and we get daily horror stories about deaths and abuses on the journey. How does a story about the Darién make an impact at this point? And when will real change happen? Alma Guillermoprieto writes that “because the media were much more important than they are now, my articles (…) had to be taken seriously by the policymakers and by the public.” I disagree with the value-judgment given to the media over time, but I do agree that policymakers used to respond to the media more. What has changed? Readings from this week more generally made me aware of the ways governments sanction migration, even in its illegal forms. Panama doesn’t necessarily outlaw smuggling through the Darién, they just make it less safe. The US doesn’t outlaw immigration, they make it more difficult. (1.6 million “gotaways”!!!!) I found the New Yorker article sad in how it affirmed the political machinations behind migration policy. I enjoyed the way it zoomed out from migration and showed it as an issue that sheds light generally on the current political landscape. What does it tell us? That we’re in deep trouble. Minor things: one of the guys outside “Stripes” says there’s an app for human trafficking… what is it!? That is a fantastic story. Similarly, I’ve heard surprisingly little about CBP One… are tech stories just not sexy? I imagine it’s having a huge impact at the border, but I only ever see statistics. Writing about tech in an interesting way is deeply difficult. 

I’m going to now turn to some “methods” questions again. Particularly focusing on photography since we have Robert Nickelsberg in class with us. The photos in both the Atlantic piece and the New Yorker piece are striking, how does / did he select photos for articles? What does his editing process look like, or was the magazine work he did from El Salvador edited by others? The New Yorker piece in particular makes me think of Ken Light’s Midnight La Frontera, a photography project I have personal issues with, but still find deeply, deeply compelling. How do you walk the line between taking photos that shock without doing so in an intrusive or voyeuristic way? I guess that’s a general question to be applied to photography, but photojournalism carries its own independent weight. And he’s done work on reconstruction of the past / confrontation of the past – at least that’s how his photos are interpreted by the writers collected in Legacy of Lies – what did that process of creation look like? I think I just have general questions about photojournalism, but those can be left for tomorrow. Enjoyed these readings, questions float about.

According to Nickelsberg, there are people in the White House who seem to understand that not addressing immigration will lead to populist authoritarianism. I’m wondering why then, this issue which has been present since the 80s according to Nickelsberg, is going unaddressed. Is it because the political payoff of fear mongering is high and Democrats have no way of responding to it so they align themselves with more punitive immigration policies? Trying to think through this question reminded me of a study that I saw by the Vera Institute that showed how politicians can win local government elections against tough-on-crime candidates without themselves adopting tough-on-crime positions. I’m curious to know whether a similar study exists for anti-immigrant sentiment.

I also want to ask Nickelsberg what he thinks will happen in the event of a Trump win vs. a Harris win (and more specifically if he thinks that a Harris win will just be kicking the problem of immigration down the road). Will we reach a point where Democrat and Republican positions on immigration converge? From the New York Times review of his book, it seems that he believes the Trump administration will be more coordinated and effective when it comes to implementing the kind of policies that they did last term (like the Consequence Delivery System). There’s a quote from Miller in the book where he says, “We need to be smarter if we want to implement something on this scale again.”

The scene about the men exchanging photos of they took at the prison commissary was compelling to me. I’m curious why they were willing to pay the $3 to get the photo taken when I would imagine they don’t have much if any cash with them to begin with. Did documenting their arrival or incarceration at the detention center serve as some sort of a strategic tactic? Or was it a point of pride that they wanted to document?

I’m also just curious in general, as someone who worked as a photographer for Time magazine for thirty years, whether there were moments where Nickelberg had to think through ethical dilemmas of photographing migrants (whether publishing photographs of them might put them in danger, whether he decided to intervene in life-and-death situations, etc.).

For the New Yorker piece, I was most curious about how the reporter gained access to the scene that they used to write the hook where the Border Patrol agents are in helicopters and are talking about “bodies.” This scene further illustrates this broader idea we’ve been talking about, that dehumanization of immigrants is a requisite step in rationalizing American immigration policy. I think that photographers like Nickelsberg literally force us to see these people as people (because it is very difficult to maintain this idea of an amorphous group that has been discursively constructed by politicians, when we are confronted by pictures of real people).

The Atlantic piece about the Darién Gap reinforced a point that we have been discussing throughout the semester: that the people arriving at the Southern border will do anything and everything to get to the U.S.—regardless of how dangerous it is. I feel like I still can’t quite wrap my head around why politicians (particularly Democrats) haven’t realized this; or if they have and they think it’s a politically unappealing message compared to what the Republican (or perhaps more accurately Trump) narrative has been on immigration.

Caitlin Dickerson’s article in The Atlantic offers a poignant account of the journey that thousands of migrants have undertaken over the years for a chance to reach the American El Dorado. These horrific and painful experiences not only speak to the desperation that drove these refugees to leave their homelands, but they also highlight the courage and dedication of people fleeing persecution, violence, and extreme poverty in their countries. I was reminded me of a conference I attended last year on the experiences of migrants traveling through Central America. We heard from an anthropologist who had joined a group of migrants through the Darién Gap to try to understand the significance of what they brought with them and what they left behind. The researcher explained that, although she was with the migrants on this journey, she was constantly aware of her distance and, frankly, her privilege. The mere access to a U.S. passport set her apart from the racialized and politically vulnerable group she found themselves with, even though they had embarked on the same journey.

Reading Dickerson’s article, I couldn’t help but think about the ethical considerations of reporting such experiences as a journalist for whom non-intervention is a core principle. Being a spectator to such violence while being aware of one’s own privilege can raise important ethical considerations. Then comes the process of publishing reports, speaking at conferences as a paid expert on the suffering of others, or trying to make sense of it, in the case of academics. Indeed, these considerations are not unique to journalists. Yet I believe these questions are extremely important to grapple with for people interested in telling refugee stories, which can be incredibly violent, intimate, traumatic, and incredibly personal. At the same time, these stories play an important role in our political discourse. They give a name and a face to the people we talk about and make policies about, forcing us to confront the reality of their humanity. Overall, have these stories made us more empathetic to the suffering of others, or have they simply fueled our perverse desire to uncover stories that move us? These are difficult questions to answer, but they are important because when we engage with them critically, we become better researchers, better journalists, and better storytellers.

I really enjoyed discovering the tension between deterrence and more conciliatory approaches to migration governance in Aikins’s description of Jonathan Blitzer’s book. Filkins, on the other hand, does a fantastic job of analyzing the politicization of migration governance in the United States and how it has exacerbated failures that are mainly systemic in nature. Both pieces highlight the experiences of people on both sides of the migration issue and the political spectrum, to show how tone-deaf policies designed in Washington DC policy offices affect the realities of migrants and border protection agents. Both articles complement Dickerson’s piece very well. While Dickerson highlights how these policies affect displaced migrants by putting arbitrary and dangerous barriers in the way of displaced people trying to find a better life, Filkins and Aikins delve into the intricacies of the immigration system and the many ways it fails everyone—not just migrants. These stories show us how the system has been overwhelmed and how the politicization of migration has made it even more difficult to find a truly effective solution to what is above all a logistical problem and a human rights nightmare.

While these pieces show how complex the immigration system of the United States has grown over the years, I have also found myself feeling slightly more optimistic about one day finding solutions to the so-called “migratory crises”. As illustrated in Blitzer’s book, “the American immigration system is a victim of its own dysfunction” (Aikins). If only we allow ourselves to leave behind the politics and approach this challenge as a logistical one, we can begin to alleviate the pressures on the border through policies that achieve effective resource building and allocation and create straightforward pathways for legal migration into the United States.

From 2013 to 2018, Southwest Philadelphia’s Paschall-Elmwood neighborhood had seen a percentage growth of foreign-born residents at a rate that greatly exceeded the citywide rate– 24.9% in Paschall–Elmwood and 14.6% in the city. A recent report showed that as of 2022, 66% of the foreign-born population in Paschall-Elmwood are originally from Africa. Why are so many African migrants coming to Philadelphia, especially the Paschall- Elmwood neighborhood?

“Philly has a huge migrant population and you see it when you walk around. The first thing that comes to mind [when describing the city] is that it’s a melting pot,” says Louise Bittout, Communications Manager of  The Welcoming Center. “[Many migrants] go to cities like New York, because it’s popular, and then they realize it’s way too expensive to live there. Then they come to the next closest city, which is Philadelphia.”

The population boost in this area has helped create a net growth in the population of a city still reeling from years of deindustrialization and movement to suburban areas. From an Italian market filled with European, Hispanic, and African vendors to community-based organizations that repeatedly support these demographics, there are many ways people can find community here, which seems to be a crucial factor in why many come to the area and stay.

“Even people in Liberia know Woodland Avenue in Southwest Philly. If you [go there] from Liberia, you’re not going to see the difference,” says Muhammad Kenneth, organizer of various programs in the Condo Reconciliation Group that primarily serves Liberians in Philadelphia.

More than 20% of Philadelphia’s African migrant population now lives in Paschal-Elmwood, an area often referred to as “Little Africa”, and for some of the streets within, “Little Liberia”.  Kenneth describes the unity in the community to be appealing to fellow Africans because everything is the same; the same food, same language, and the same people. He says that people come to this neighborhood so that they can find a place to fit in and feel connected to the community around them. From 32nd street all the way to 72nd, African migrants are able to get a taste of home. There’s a high chance that each store you pass on the street is likely to be an African store, an African restaurant, or even an African hair salon and as you walk, flying above are flags representing countries from all over the continent. It’s a community that highlights African culture and is a place for African migrants, built by African migrants.

Last month, Kenneth set up a meeting with local law enforcement for new immigrants to engage with police in a supportive environment and realize they don’t have to be scared of the police. Initiatives like this from local organizations are providing migrants with opportunities to not only feel secure in their jobs and follow their passions, but feel safe in their communities. In Philadelphia, support seems to come more readily from local organizations and nonprofits than through state or city assistance. With this community support, the migrant population in Philly continues to grow and new migrants are able to gain their footing in a new country.

“When I first came to the United States, I thought they would be very welcoming, but it wasn’t,” says Mariama Korka Diallo, a new immigrant from Guinea who started her life again in Philadelphia just 11 months ago. She says, after many bad encounters with healthcare and DMV workers during her first few months in the United States, she started isolating herself at home. Coming from a big family community to a home with only her husband –and no one she knows or can relate to– she started losing confidence in herself and said, “I felt empty, like a baby. I didn’t know anything. I [said] this country is not mine. When I came back home, I [told] my husband, ‘I would like to go back to my country, because here, it’s not my country. I don’t feel secure.  I miss my community. I need to go back.’”

Diallo’s story underscores a common experience for many new migrants to the US who often face the language barrier early on. Regardless of what might have been a rocky start, Diallo now thrives in her new job as an administrative support specialist at The Welcoming Center in Central Philadelphia, after regaining her confidence in English by engaging in their International Professionals Program. She credits her successful adjustment to the Welcoming Center’s immigrant support programs that helped her find a community in America saying, “I met many different people from different communities. They all had the same problem as me and helped me understand that I’m not alone.”

The Center is one of many programs in Central Philadelphia that promotes economic development through community engagement, English and digital skills classes, career development programs, and assistance for people to start a business. They help hundreds of migrants involved feel more connected to their community and follow their passions with confidence.

For new African migrants in the area, they have the support of organizations like the Condo Reconciliation Group, the African Cultural Alliance of North America, and The Welcoming Center. Kenneth and other local leaders are taking on critical roles by providing services and resources that are often not as available at the city or state level, helping build trust and connections in the migrant community. As the Paschall-Elmwood neighborhood develops its own infrastructure, it continues to support the practical, social, and emotional needs for new African migrants, making the area a true home away from home.

The first thing I noticed when New Yorker piece (which I read last) was the word bodies. Four bodies. Six bodies. Ten bodies. It seems like such an inhumane way of describing people. People who have stories and emotions, many of whom, nowadays, have experienced immense trauma. Who are escaping inhumane treatment. Who have been sexually assaulted in the Darién Gap . Who are from Mexico to Honduras to Venezuela, fleeing persecution and targeted (or even un-targeted violence). The people who Blitzer writes about in “Everyone Who is Gone is Here.”

I really appreciated reading the Atlantic article, especially because I love Caitlin Dickerson. It was interesting to read this in the context of her piece “‘We Need to Take Away Children.'” It seemed like almost a prequel to that piece – with the traumas that asylum seekers faced when entering the U.S. (among them, family separation), they faced so many on their way there. I was also struck by the actions of the guides: videoing early on; it’s almost like a disinformation campaign, selling their journey as enjoyable and not telling the hardships and abuse. They don’t show them after sexual assaults and traumas. They don’t show hell. And the fact that Caitlin and her team actually went and traveled through the Darién Gap with their subjects is such great reporting. I hope to have an experience like theirs someday (maybe not as dangerous for my mother’s sake).

Reading this in context of the American government’s various policies regarding immigration and the southern border makes the situation seem all the more hopeless. These people need our help, and I believe we are morally obligated – our “moral imperative” – to provide them that aid. Putting the New Yorker article alongside the New York Times review of “Everyone Who is Gone is Here” truly shows, as the New York Times puts it, “the American immigration system as a victim of its own dysfunction.” And this dysfunction is harming real people who have already gone through such trauma and pain to get here, a land they see as an escape from hardships.

P.S. In another edition of this class, I highly recommend assigning “‘We Need to Take Away Children'” – it is hauntingly well-written (it won the Pulitzer, of course).

Eleven months after fleeing Sudan’s civil war to Cairo with his family, Mohamed Hassan faced a dilemma. Though safe from the horrors of the war, Cairo provided a new set of economic challenges that left him and his family struggling to build a new life. Coupled with the worsening economic situation in Cairo, hearing of the Sudanese Armed Forces recapture of Omdurman, where the family comes from, forced Hassan to consider moving back to the province.

“I was living in a two-bedroom apartment with 10 of my family members, so it was tight,” he told The National . “I arrived in November of last year and it has been one of the hardest years of my life. In the few weeks before I departed Egypt, life had become too expensive to sustain. The school year started and I couldn’t enroll my children because of the high fees.” 

On October 1, 2024, Hassan moved back to Sudan with his wife, daughter and sister, a decision increasing numbers of Sudanese refugees in Egypt are taking. More than 12,239 people crossed into Sudan from Egypt in September of 2024, an increase from the 7,890 in August, a report by the Sudan News Agency confirmed. The numbers are expected to increase as the weeks go on, signaling the extent problems in Egypt are affecting refugees. 

For the 550,00 Sudanese who fled following the outbreak of the war, legal, social and economic barriers have put most into situations of financial precarity. Unable to access services because of lack of aid and organizations on the ground, as well as the necessary documentation needed for employment, many found themselves either unable to make a living or forced into high risk jobs in the informal sector and vulnerable to exploitation. Egypt is a primary destination for Sudanese refugees. However, historical ties between the two nations haven’t resulted in a hospitable welcome or coordination to help in the settlement of those who made it to Egypt, or their legal integration into the labor force. 

In 2004, Egypt and Sudan signed the Four Freedoms Agreement, a framework that in theory aimed to guarantee freedom of movement, residency, work and property ownership for their respective citizens. In the face of restrictions Sudanese face both at the border and administratively once they arrive in Cairo, the promises of the agreement remain unfulfilled. 

‘I’ve heard stories about people being in crisis for decades and still not being able to access any kind of government assistance, so it’s definitely stressful. It’s been nine months, and they still haven’t gotten their yellow cards yet’, said Reem Saeed, a Sudanese Princeton student about her family who fled Khartoum. 

They now live in the Giza governorate, an area west of central Cairo where a large number of Sudanese people have settled. ‘They’ve been trying through the Egyptian government, but that wasn’t working. Now they’re trying with the UN, but it’s such a long and expensive process. They’re completely undocumented, so any employment that they do have isn’t as substantive as if they had full documentation, or even refugee status period,” she said. 

Refugees who make it into Egypt must register with the UNHCR in order to obtain a yellow card. This guarantees them access to essential services such as healthcare, education, permits employment as well as legal protections against deportation, generally for a period of 18 months. Egypt only has three UNHCR offices across the country, two of which are in Greater Cairo and the last in Alexandra, meaning Sudanese are unable to register at the southern border and must first reach the north of the country before registering. Even in Cairo, however, waiting periods for registration can stretch up to six months, leaving many in administrative and economic limbo. In some cases, authorities have denied refugee status to some, claiming they came from ‘nonviolent’ areas.

Reem says her family was reasonably wealthy prior to the war; now, they rely on money her family in the US send back every month to support them. But those who can’t rely on remittances often end up forced into the informal sector, where there are no labor protections and work is poorly paid. 

Meanwhile, Sudanese people are increasingly scapegoated amidst economic problems in Egypt. In January 2024, Prime minister Mostafa Madbouly made statements regarding government assistance to refugees that resulted in a surge of anti-migrant and anti-refugee sentiment following its media coverage, Sada Journal reported. 

For most however, community-run initiatives make up the bulk of support, most set up by Sudanese themselves. For example, in 2020, Amal Raha Bouda, a Sudanese refugee who moved to Egypt in 2018 launched Hope for the Future, a female-run initiative that offers community, education and help for those facing issues such as homelessness and domestic violence. Community schools have been especially vital in providing Sudanese children with education whilst they wait for their yellow cards, without which they are unable to enroll in state schools. 

Angela Klara, a legal caseworker who handles asylum cases in Cairo, attributes the situation to both racism and donor exhaustion.”There’s just nowhere near enough funding. With everything going on in Gaza, Sudan just doesn’t have the same visibility,” she said. “There’s obviously also a racial angle as to why everyones looking away. In Egypt, they’re Black, they’re seen as uneducated, and they don’t get the same urgency as other refugees.”

Sudanese refugees increasingly face discriminatory and racist attacks at the hands of both the police and civilians. These have left the community living and operating in fear, with many scared to leave the house as they know they will be targeted based on their race.

In June, Amnesty International reported the arrest and forcible return of over 800 Sudanese refugees between October 2023 and March 2024. Tracking these cases is difficult as the Egyptian government does not provide statistics on arrests or deportations. An investigation by the New Humanitarian however reported that thousands of cases had been recorded between the Global detention project and the UNHCR. 

The Egyptian State Information Service did not respond to a request for comment.