Releases

Inside the walls of Casa Marianella, an emergency shelter for immigrants and asylum-seekers, the life of a migrant is distinct from that of our convivio festivities. Instead of dancing salsa, we dance the steps of the immigration process. For individuals seeking asylum on the grounds of persecution of religion, race, ethnicity, political affiliation, or social identity, they find their feet paused; an individual must anticipate their work permit at least 180 days after filing for asylum. Our residents learn coexistence, as they break bread (or possibly share a room) with a resident with whom they were at war in their native country and take ESL classes with classmates from five continents.

The stories which I have been blessed to hear travel as deep within me as the individuals have voyaged far. Sharing safety, meals, a roof, and encouragement with thirty five residents invigorates my passion for social justice and dedication to be a JV. As I look into the eyes of these migrants, I am inspired by the peace they maintain in spite of suffering traumatic violence, the desolation they put aside from being in a new place, and the hope they have for their future in the United States. I invite you to reflect on the immigration story your family has and your celebrations of coexistence; feel free to dance salsa.

Who are the faces of an immigrant?

• A business owner who managed 35 laborers on a coffee plantation that was devastated by a hurricane.
• A college economics professor who is unable to teach in the United States and had his labor rights violated in another profession.
• A woman whose spouse threatened to murder her, causing her to flee and leave her children.
• A young adult with aspirations to work and return home to care for his sick mother.
• A thirty year old whose home nation doesn't accept him as a citizen based on his birth location during the middle of a civil war.
• A professional marathon runner who practices yoga.
• A woman who has been trafficked and seeks peace.
• A man in his late 70s who came to the US more than 3 decades ago under the Braceros program, and continued to work until neuropathy pained him at 73.

Each day that I enter Casa Marianella, an emergency shelter for adult immigrants and seekers of asylum, I am reminded how our needs as humans are the same despite our varied journeys. Sharing stories, soccer, jokes and delicious food, we find human companionship, the ability to explore differences and strong bonds. I think back four generations to when my Polish family members immigrated to the United States looking for a better life. My mother's own account of my grandpa building the rooms of their home, his father working in coal mines of Pennsylvania, and how resourceful they were deepens my connections to the individuals who are at Casa Marianella.

According to 2009 estimates by the U.S. Census Bureau, 99 percent of the country's population is not native to America, and 11 percent of the population is foreign born. Immigrants come to the US under the same aspirations as they did a couple hundred years ago. The journey for a better life is long before immigrants arrive in the United States, and I hope that we can all outreach a helping hand to bless those who are our newest neighbors.