U.S. Refugee Resettlement 101

It’s been way too long since I’ve posted on this blog, but with the election right around the corner, I had to write something. As an employee of an immigrant services and refugee resettlement agency, the amount of false information I’ve heard about immigrants, and refugees in particular, through this election season has been absolutely painful. In the interest of not writing the longest blog post known to humankind and boring you with too many details and citations, I will briefly discuss the history of U.S. refugee resettlement and the current vetting process to provide some information and grounding.

Before we begin, I think it’s important to define some terms for clarity. In this post we’ll be looking at refugee resettlement in United States rather than immigration overall. A refugee is a person who has fled their home country and cannot return due “to a well-founded fear of being persecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group, or political opinion” (UNHCR). This is different from an immigrant, who chooses to move to a new country for any number of reasons, but has the freedom to return home. As with so many things in life, definitions and their applications are far more nuanced than this; however, these understandings will help frame this post. This distinction between refugees and immigrants is critical in discussing refugee admissions, border control, and other immigration reform, given that many people tend to conflate the admissions processes of each.

Refugee resettlement was first addressed in the United States in 1948. Following World War II, 250,000 displaced Europeans had been admitted into the U.S., and the legislation permitted for the entrance of 400,000 more. For the next few decades, resettlement was provided by the government as needed, allowing for the entrance of various refugees from around the world, including Yugoslavia, China, and Cuba, but there was no uniform response to these incidents. With the protracted conflict in Vietnam, the U.S. passed The Refugee Act of 1980, which standardized resettlement services across the country and began the refugee resettlement program as we know it today. Under this system, resettlement is a public-private partnership, in which the government provides limited funding and resettlement services are provided by independent non-profit agencies. Since the 1980s, the U.S. has resettled more than 3 million refugees.

There has been a lot in the news over the past year or so about refugees, from the image of the drowned toddler on a Turkish beach to the governors of some U.S. states attempting to block refugees. I’ve heard arguments that we should be doing more to help Syrian refugees, quickly followed by demands that we ban all refugees, or at least those who are Muslim. I’ve heard people call them terrorists and that there is no way to vet them. Many of these arguments are rooted in a lack of understanding of the resettlement process and how refugees are admitted to the United States.

At the end of 2015, there were 65.3 million displaced people around the world, and 21.3 million of those are refugees (UNHCR Global Trends 2015). Of these refugees, only about 1 percent are resettled each year, and the U.S. accepts about half of those who are resettled. Before these refugees even set foot on a plane, they undergo a long and detailed vetting process. The U.S. Committee for Refugees and Immigrants (USCRI) has a great infographic that helps explain how refugees are resettled. Overall, the screening process generally takes 18 to 24 months from the time a person is referred to the United States for resettlement to the time they arrive in the United States. This rigorous process includes a series of interviews, biometric and health screenings, and recurrent checks against FBI, DOD, and DHS databases. These checks are continually done until the time the refugee steps on the plane – if any new information arises that links them to any questionable activity, they are not allowed to proceed with resettlement. In short, refugees are the most thoroughly vetted individuals to enter the United States.

Some have argued that refugees, especially those from the Middle East, should not be admitted into the country because they are terrorists who will commit violence after they arrive in the U.S. However, beyond the fact that refugees are so thoroughly vetted, the data shows that there is no basis for this claim. Since 2001, the U.S. has resettled 784,000 refugees, and in that time only 3 have been arrested for planning terrorist attacks, two which were outside of the country and one that wasn’t credible (Migration Policy Institute). This means that in 14 years, only 0.00038% of refugees in the U.S. have been suspected of terrorist activities.  

Many people have ignored this overwhelming data and pointed to the recent high-profile terrorism cases as proof of their arguments. These cases, however, have been perpetrated by U.S. citizens or others who came to the U.S. legally, not refugees through the U.S. resettlement program.(See PolitiFact, “What is the citizenship status of terrorist suspects in the United States?”) This distinction is crucial, as many state governors have tried to stop refugee resettlement in their respective states by blurring these definitions. This reaction is rooted in fear and xenophobia rather than the facts about the refugee resettlement process and the likelihood of terrorism committed by those admitted to the U.S. through this process. While these details may seem technical, misunderstanding these technicalities can lead to innocent people being denied help they desperately need.

There is certainly far more that I could say about this, but for now, it’s most important to me to provide a primer of sorts to the topic. If you’re interested in learning more, I’ve included links throughout this post and below that provide additional information.

Resources and Links

UNHCR Global Trends 2015 Report

USCRI Refugee Resettlement FAQ

MPI Ten Facts About U.S. Refugee Resettlement

Bearing Witness

In my graduate program, we often spoke of the importance of “bearing witness” to the experiences of others, most often in the context of suffering and trauma. We frequently discussed what it means to fully present with someone as they walk through an experience or even as they recount a past trauma. This gift of bearing witness, of standing with them, and of being able to “vouch” for them, in a sense, was one of the most powerful concepts to me, as I’ve seen it manifest in so many ways in daily life.

As I mentioned in my last post, I’m in the process of moving to an apartment in the city. I honestly didn’t think I’d be moving for a while, but I shouldn’t be surprised that life didn’t turn out that way. (When do our plans ever end the way we think they will?) I’m so excited to be moving in with a friend from grad school, to be living in the city, and to be significantly closer to work. Yet over the last month I have had such a mix of emotions I pack and prepare to leave my current home. When I moved to New Jersey nearly two years ago, I was in a completely different season in life. Looking back on it now, it honestly feels like a different lifetime, or not even my life, for that matter. As life has changed since then, I have learned a lot about physical space and how it impacts our mental and emotional state, and I’ve striven to put those lessons into practice.

I’ve come to believe that just as people can bear witness to the experiences of those around them, so can space bear witness to our lives, both the good and the bad. And as I pack up my home yet again, I’m reminded with each box how this apartment has borne witness to so much over the past two years – to laughter and to tears, to love and to heartache, to joyous celebrations and to quiet, reflective moments. I have learned that there are some spaces that, as seasons change, need to be kept sacred. They need to be left untouched as they hold the all the moments of good, each moment that is special for that space in life. And then there are spaces that need to be reclaimed, those spaces that need to change with season and need to be reinfused with positivity where there was once pain.

As I sit here in half-packed living room – with it’s nearly empty walls and boxes stacked in corner – I’m amazed at how much this little piece of space has changed with the seasons. Looking back at old photos I took shortly after I moved in, you almost wouldn’t know this is the same space. And as difficult as it is to leave this apartment, I look at this space and see how it now reflects me and the changes that have happened within me as I’ve lived here. This living room, this apartment, this space, has borne witness to both the most defeating times and the most victorious triumphs of my short twenty-something years. With this new season of life, I’m looking forward t

Faithfulness

I can’t believe it’s been so long since I’ve sat down to write like this – there is so much to fill you in on! The “quick and dirty” version: got a job in my career field, have been super busy transitioning to my new job and absolutely loving it, and now I’m prepping to move into the city. But all that’s for another post, as my mind is elsewhere today.

I had the privilege of spending this past weekend with my family and celebrating the 75^th anniversary of the church in which I grew up. I’ll be honest: I was a little hesitant to go to the celebration and wasn’t sure if I really wanted to be there for it. Without getting into the nitty-gritty, there’s just been a lot that’s gone down in the last 5 to 8 years, and it just seemed easier to not go. In the end, it was one of the best decisions I’ve made in recent months.

As I sat in church yesterday morning, singing along to “How Great is Our God,” I was so overwhelmed by the faithfulness of God. This month marks 7 years since a critical turning point for so many of us who had grown up in that church, and at that time, I was convinced that things would never be okay again. I struggled for a long time trusting anyone in any church, and I was so disillusioned by the body of Christ as a whole that I really wasn’t interested in participating in any church body. And yet, as we sang together yesterday morning, and I looked around and saw so many people who hadn’t been back to the church in years, I was reminded of how God brings healing, reconciliation, and restoration in his perfect timing and in his way. Seven years ago, if you told me that so many of us would be gathered together, and relationships would be restored, I would not have believed you – it just didn’t seem at all possible. But I’ve seen how God has worked through me and through others, softening hearts and turning us back to one another, and it’s just the most beautiful thing.

All that rambling to say…God is faithful. Plain and simple. And I feel so blessed to have shared this weekend with some old friends – life feels as if it makes sense again, and it’s been a while since I have felt this centered. This weekend was just a wonderful reminder that God has some sort of crazy plan, and no matter what comes next, he is faithful!

Rising to the Occasion

“If you don’t rise to the occasion, the best part of you will die.”  ~ Lily Yeh

It’s been one year since an occasion was presented to me. At the time, I only saw it for what it was in the moment – heartache, pain, and the abrupt end of a season in life. But 365 days later, I can see the bigger picture and understand that it was truly a remarkable occasion in my life...

…an occasion to discover who I am in the most authentic ways.

…an occasion to try new things, meet new people, and explore new places.

…an occasion to look the unknown future head on and say “I’m not afraid” (or depending on the day “I’m absolutely petrified but I know I’ll be okay”).

…an occasion to learn and grow, both as an individual and in community.

What would have happened if I hadn’t risen to the occasion? What opportunities would I have missed? And worse yet, what part of me would have been lost?

I definitely don’t have it all figured out, and I’m still growing, but I feel confident today that I have risen to the occasion and the opportunities that were presented. I think one of the scariest things is that the occasion – whatever it may be for you – likely isn’t an easy one. The best parts of us aren’t forged in the easy times, right? Rather, it’s in the adversity, in the lowest points of life, that our character is tested and refined and that allows the best part of us to not only survive, but thrive.

True Love and Deep Grace

What a whirlwind the past month has been! I’ve been trying to sit down and write for so long, and yet my time has been captured by so many other more urgent items. But that’s how it goes, right? Nothing to say and lots of time to write, or so much to say with no time to write. ;)

One of the last times I wrote, I had been in a really weird space in life and wasn’t sure what was causing the emotional funk I had found myself in. It was about mid-February when I found out that a friend had given me one of the most generous gifts I’ve ever received. I was absolutely floored by this gift, especially since it was given by a friend that I have recently met and have mostly gotten to know via social media.

As I pondered this precious gift, it occurred to me that the deep sadness I was feeling was a result of feeling not only unloved, but unlovable. I don’t feel the need to be liked by everyone – I am fully aware that it’s just not realistic – but when experience after experience tells you that you’re not worth someone’s time or their respect, it starts to wear on you. And I had started to believe the lies. I believed that I wasn’t worth someone’s time to be cared for, to have a conversation, to be respected. But my friend’s gift – given freely and selflessly – communicated to me the incredibly powerful message that I was loved and worth loving, simply because I was a person. That was a deeply powerful and moving statement, and for the first time in a while I felt not only loved, but lovable. 

There’s something about that epiphany that transformed my outlook. If I was so loved just because I was me, than how much more are others worth love and care for simply being them and being human? It was also a powerful reminder of how much God loves me – there was nothing I could ever do to be worthy of being loved enough to die for me, and yet He did it anyways. He loves me simply for who I am, because I am made in His image, and this gift was a physical reminder of that true love of God. And by feeling so overwhelmingly loved, I felt free to love others in real, tangible ways.

Of course, we also know that God never just does one little (or big) thing at a time in our lives – they come in bundles, right? Sure enough, right on the tails of this reminder of what love really is came an incredible lesson about grace.

It’s been just about a month now since I got a call that my supervisor for my radio documentary project had an accident and would be out of commission for the remainder of production time. We were two years in to the project and two weeks out from our anticipated completion date, and suddenly I found the fate of the radio piece in my hands. Not only did I have other major events in the works with looming deadlines, I also had never produced a radio piece before, so I had no clue where to even begin to finish this.

Without listing the agonizing details of stressful endless days, there was a retired producer who came alongside me and agreed to help me finish this. I was thrilled to have any type of help in completing the radio piece, but she went far beyond that – she dove in head first, teaching me the process of radio production and investing time in my professional development. I was flabbergasted. She could have easily said no, but she was willing to jump in next to me and walk with me through the entire process.

As if that weren’t enough grace, I sent a panicked email to some friends when additional help had fallen through on a task that I had no experience (or equipment) to complete, and within 3 hours I had a list of people ready and willing to help out with the project. A friend agreed to take on the task, and despite unexpected issues with the interview tapes and multiple changes by the producer, he patiently stuck with it until the project was done. It was a form of community and an expression of grace that I hadn’t experienced in a very long time.

I was blown away that so many people who had no investment in the project were willing to hop on board at the frantic last minute and help see this project through to its successful completion. Their patience, flexibility, and dedication were thoroughly humbling. As much as I’ve heard about grace in church as I grewup, it wasn’t until this month that I had a deeper understanding of what grace really is. This tangible expression of grace from those around me was a powerful reminder of the grace that God has shown toward me.

The past five weeks have been hectic, exhausting, emotional, empowering, and life-changing. More than ever, I understand now that life, and particularly the Christian life, cannot be done alone. I have experienced true love and deep grace from those around me, and it is the selfless actions of others that have taught me lessons more powerful than any sermon or Sunday School class. These tangible acts of others have humbled me and filled me, placing me in an incredible place to give freely to others the same love and grace that has been demonstrated to me.  

God of my Present

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately – shocking, right? ;) Thinking about the past, thinking about where I am now, thinking about where on earth I may end up, and thinking about how life might have been different. And naturally, a lot of emotions have come up – some warm and fuzzy, others raw and painful. After the first few weeks of this year, during which I felt so much peace and contentment, this new phase has been particularly unsettling. Although I can intellectually know it’s natural, emotionally it’s exhausting and discouraging.

On my way to church this morning, I was riding this train of thought again. In particular, I was considering the different paths that each of us takes in life. I’ve seen so many links getting passed around Facebook lately about “22 Reasons I Got Married Before Age 22” or “15 Reasons I Waited until I was 30 to Get Married,” and frankly, I’m getting sick of it. Yes, I have my opinions on the matter, and as one who’s almost 26 and still single, I’ll let you guess where I land on the matter. But at the end of the day, life looks different for everyone, and that includes the choice of not only when one gets married, but also if one gets married at all. Who am I to say that someone who is 22 is too young to get married? Just because I wasn’t ready at that age doesn’t mean nobody else is. But at the same time, I don’t want people assuming that those of us taking on our late twenties as singles are somehow “less of an adult” because we don’t have spouses. Could I have been married right out of college? Sure. Would that relationship have been the healthiest for me? Very likely not. And while I don’t have a husband and children to come home to at night, I do have a graduate degree and have both traveled and lived overseas. I really believe that it just comes down to life choices and what we value at certain stages in life – our choices have outcomes, for good or bad, and we just need to be content with those decisions.

So it was with these thoughts running through my head that I walked into church this morning – life choices, where I’ve been, and what the next steps in my career and personal life are. And then our pastor started his sermon titled “Roaming for Rest.” Yep, an entire sermon about the quest for contentment. As he walked us through the passage in Ecclesiastes, he said there are those who will search for fulfillment in work, and those who will search for fulfillment in family. While neither of these things are inherently bad, neither will bring fulfillment if they replace the space in our life that God should fill. If we seek fulfillment in those things rather than God, we miss the meaning of life and the contentment that comes with resting in the Lord.

Even more than that though, we will never be content if we are constantly looking forward to a time when we will be fulfilled in the future. Contentment is not circumstantial and based on external factors, but instead, it’s cultivated internally and is centered on fulfillment in God. And while God will provide for our future with what we need (note: not what we want or perceive to need), he is the God of our present. He is the God of what we encounter today, what we need today, and what is happening right now. He is enough for right now.

As this entire blog can attest, I am certainly not at the place in my life that I thought I’d be as I approach my late twenties. But I am learning to deeply love a God who has provided what I needed in the moment it is needed. While I can dream and plan and hope for tomorrow, I must live in today and trust the God of my present. 

If life were a Hollywood movie…

…this would be the part of the movie when the leading lady sells all her stuff, packs her journal, camera, and a few cute outfits, and moves to a different continent.

I don’t know what it is, but the last week or so has been particularly rough. I really didn’t want to post about it, for fear that the post would be perceived as a pathetic pity party, but after some serious thought I’ve decided to write a bit about it. Not because I want a pity party, but because it’s hard to be authentic if one doesn’t talk about the valleys along with the peaks. And unfortunately, it’s been a week in the valley.

Granted, not everything about the past week has been terrible. In fact, there have been a few wonderful moments in which I have felt absolutely loved. But at the end of the day, there has been this sadness that I just can’t find the trigger for. As someone who has always been able to identify my emotions and their causes, this has been rather troubling. And when I can’t find the reason for this crazy mix of emotions, I just want to run away. I want to sell my stuff and travel lightly – go somewhere new and just start over. Embark on an adventure that makes me feel alive again…an adventure that makes me feel something. Anything.

As I sit here in the small coffee shop in my quiet little town, I’m overcome by the fact that I can walk in, order, and sit here typing away without thinking twice about customs or looking out of place. I can tune out the noise around me and not think much about what’s happening elsewhere in the shop. And as nice as it is to blend into the background, I miss the assault on my senses as I walk through Kigali – the bright colors, the oppressive smell of fumes and heat, and the incessant noise of the city. I miss the Italians nearly glaring at me as I walk down the street because I lack bella figure with my tacky American style. I miss the feeling of being extra vigilant of customs as I stroll through the streets of Ireland – so similar to home in so many ways that the need to be extra mindful of different customs brings a quickening of the heart and a sense of life that seems to come only with travel.

Honestly, I’m not sure what the point of this post is, or how to wrap this up. I guess there really isn’t a conclusion to this. No moment of enlightenment or stroke of genius – just a little space to process, share the raw parts of the journey with you all, and ramble on about the need to get on a plane to anywhere. I’m sure that in a few days, the sun will be out again and life will feel beautiful again, but for now, it’s just the rawness and realness of the rough spaces in life that help us appreciate those sunny times when they return.