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From: "Maurice Belanger" <mbelanger@immigrationforum.org>
Date: Mon, 3 Dec 2001 18:39:27 -0500
To: "Belanger, Maurice" <mbelanger@immigrationforum.org>
Subject: A Nation of Immigrants Rebuilds
National Immigration Forum
Date: December 3, 2001
To: Forum Associates and interested advocates
From: Forum Policy Staff
Re: More Stories Relating to the Aftermath of the Events of
September 11
----------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
1. "Anger threatens immigrants' progress," Boston Globe,
November 7, 2001
2. "In N.C., Anxiety and Animosity Put an Edge on an Old
Dream, Washington Post, November 25, 2001
3. "The Lost," Newsday, November 23, 2001
4. "Jewish congregation offers help to Mideast immigrants,"
Lincoln Journal Star, November 27, 2001
5. "In wake of attacks, some in Maine endure harassment,
Portland Press Herald, November 26, 2001
6. "Cambodians aid victims," Long Beach Press-Telegram,
November 29, 2001
----------------------------------------------------
DEARBORN, MICH.
Anger threatens immigrants' progress
Boston Globe
By Mary Leonard, Globe Staff, 11/7/2001
DEARBORN, Mich. - For 31 years, Ismael Ahmed's primary mission has been
to weave this city's huge Arab-immigrant population into the fabric of
American life. He began it when a mayor tried to bulldoze Arab homes,
and he has pursued it, even as waves of political refugees have made
east Dearborn look and sound more like the Middle East than Michigan.
But Sept. 11 was a watershed. Ahmed said he knew it when he looked out
his window at the Arab Community Center for Economic and Social
Services, or ACCESS, and saw a local television crew using the building
as a backdrop for a report on terrorist suspects.
''Within two hours of the incidents, before anyone had any idea who did
it, we were the enemy within,'' Ahmed said. ''It was a wake-up call that
we couldn't afford to be inward-looking or isolated.''
Nowhere in the nation has the weight of the anti-Arab sentiment spawned
by the terrorist attacks fallen so profoundly as it has in Dearborn,
where one-fourth of the population of 100,000 is ethnic Arab. The
political progress, economic gains, and social integration that have
made Dearborn's Arab-American community unique are jeopardized by anger,
suspicion, and guilt by association directed at Arabs after the attacks,
Ahmed and other activists say.
''This has been a disaster, a real setback for the community,'' said
Nabeel Abraham, an anthropologist at Henry Ford Community College and
editor of the book ''Arab Detroit.'' ''But it could have been much
worse.''
ACCESS, one of the very few and by far the largest Arab social-service
agency in the country, immediately organized blood drives and trauma
centers in Dearborn and fund-raising for the victims of the terrorist
attacks. It put together a team of Arab-American physicians for duty in
New York. There was an interfaith candlelight vigil at a mosque, a
citywide unity rally, a town meeting, and a rock concert against racial
profiling, sponsored by black, Latino, and Arab groups.
Arab-American leaders also took advantage of the community's growing
political and economic clout, reaching out to the governor, members of
Congress, and Dearborn-based Ford Motor Co. executives and warning that
their constituents and employees needed protection from ethnic
intimidation.
Ahmed said the statements of support, from President Bush to Ford's
chairman, William Clay Ford Jr., were extraordinary, but the erosion of
civil rights for Arab immigrants is inevitable.
Congress has passed a sweeping bill to give new powers to law
enforcement agencies, an ongoing dragnet that has detained more than
1,000 people in connection with the terrorist attacks.
''So where is it all headed? And what if there is another incident of
terrorism?'' said Ahmed, the US-born son of a Lebanese mother and
Egyptian father. ''People already are acting in a panicky way.''
Two weeks ago, the head of the Michigan State Police apologized to
Arab-American leaders for releasing a report that called Detroit and
Dearborn major recruiting and financial-support centers for Middle East
terrorist groups.
Arab-American leaders in the Detroit area have urged the community to be
patriotic and to cooperate with the police and FBI. Ahmed was questioned
about two Arab immigrants arrested on suspicion of buying licenses to
drive trucks with hazardous materials. The men were released after Ahmed
explained that ACCESS had given them driving-school scholarships so they
could get jobs.
What can appear sinister to the FBI looks like assimilation to ACCESS.
The storefront agency opened in 1971 as a volunteer translation and
legal-aid service, helping new immigrants adapt to US society, and took
root after successfully blocking Mayor Orville Hubbard's ''urban
renewal'' project to raze hundreds of homes in a low-income Arab
neighborhood near Ford's Rouge plant.
A secular agency with a $10 million annual budget, a staff of 150, and
nearly 100 job-training, health, and cultural arts programs, ACCESS grew
along with the community and has emerged as the preeminent voice on
ethnic Arab issues in the area.
There are an estimated 300,000 Arab immigrants now in metropolitan
Detroit, as political refugees - most of them Muslims from Yemen and
Iraq - recently have come to live alongside predominantly Christian
Lebanese and Syrians who started settling in Dearborn in the late 1800s.
Today, Dearborn's Warren Avenue is a hub of ethnic Arab activity. On
signs written in Arabic, dozens of butchers advertise ''halal,'' the
equivalent of kosher meat. Yaseem's and Shatila's compete as bakers of
the best honey-soaked pastries. There's a chiropractor named Rafic, a
realtor named Abdullah, and a boutique called Al Quid Islamic Fashions
for the many women in Dearborn who wear the traditional hajib (scarf)
and abaya (robe).
It's estimated that 56 percent of the children in Dearborn public
schools are Arab immigrants. At home, many of them speak Arabic and, via
satellite, watch the news on Qatar's Al-Jazeera network or sports on
Lebanon's state channel.
There are Arab-Americans on the City Council and Board of Education.
Abed Hammoud, nominated Sept. 11 as the first Arab-American candidate
for mayor, is an example of the community's growing political influence
as well as cultural ambivalence: ''I am proud of my cultural heritage,''
Hammoud said in a campaign flier. ''But I am prouder of my American
citizenship.''
Adnan Hammad, a Palestinian-American, grew up in a West Jerusalem
refugee camp and came to Dearborn when his wife, Raja, a pediatric
surgical pathologist, was recruited by an area hospital. Since 1995, he
has run ACCESS's health division.
He said he is convinced that everything the vast majority of Arab
immigrants strive for - credibility, success, security, the reputation
as productive, caring, and compassionate Americans - has been undermined
by the perception ''that all this terror is associated with us.'' He
fears that patients will avoid Arab doctors, shoppers will shun Arab
merchants, and voters won't support Arab candidates.
''My son, who is 10, came home from school and said, `Papa, did we do
this? Somebody at school told me an Arab guy did this,''' Hammad
recalled. ''I told him, `Your father is a doctor. Your mother is a
doctor. We save lives. We work hard. We are assets to our community. You
should not be ashamed. You are an American.'
''It is very hard for me to tell my son that because he is an
Arab-American he has to go through this,'' Hammad added. ''It is as a
father that I am most worried about Sept. 11. You see, I can never
forget my son's face that day.''
Mary Leonard can be reached by e-mail at mleonard@globe.com.
This story ran on page A11 of the Boston Globe on 11/7/2001.
© Copyright 2001 Globe Newspaper Company.
===============================
Excerpted from: In N.C., Anxiety and Animosity Put an Edge on an Old
Dream
By Anne Hull
Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, November 25, 2001; Page A01
This is the first of a series of occasional articles that will examine
the impact of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks on American life and
institutions.
. . . .'Am I Welcome Here?'
When Yasir Hassan arrived last summer to attend the University of North
Carolina at Greensboro, his mother and sister accompanied him from
Pakistan, filling his cupboard with spices from home, labeled in Urdu in
their delicate script. Greensboro was a strange land indeed. He noticed
the wooden signs nailed to the hickories and oaks and wondered, "Why are
all the trees named Jesus?"
Within a month, though, Hassan was living on Cocoa Puffs and watching
Montel Williams before classes. On Fridays, he and his Pakistani
roommate would cruise the strip between Wal-Mart and RaceTrac,
"hollering at girls, just freaking out; it's very luminous at night."
But like Chavez, Hassan felt his place in America change after Sept. 11.
He was no longer an international student in a FUBU sweat shirt who
contemplated the benefits of titanium wire over gold in computers; he
was dark and Muslim and studying in the United States on a visitor's
visa -- and in possession of a Pakistani passport that spelled his name
Yasir, Yasser and Yassir.
"You cannot imagine the trouble this has caused," he says.
Because one of the terrorist hijackers had entered the United States on
a student visa, Hassan suspected that his file would be reviewed by
school officials, and he was right. Of the 13,000 students on campus,
500 were foreign, with 24 from so-called terrorist-sponsoring countries.
An FBI agent called to check in with the international student program
director.
"Am I welcome here?" Hassan asked his student adviser. The answer was
yes, of course. Campus leaders beefed up security and held forums on
Islam, co-sponsored by the 20-member Muslim Student Association. Hassan
didn't belong to the group but took comfort in its presence. The campus
became his haven.
Beyond the university gates is where his real troubles started.
Late one Friday night, Hassan and his roommate, Kashif Khan, were
visiting with two American women in the front yard of their house. Two
trucks and two cars pulled up and several men unloaded. They asked where
one of their friends was. He has already left, Hassan answered. The next
thing he knew, he was surrounded and heard the words, "You dirty
Pakistani bastards." He looked over and saw Khan on the hood of a car,
being beaten. Hassan was on the ground when a beer bottle crashed into
the side of his skull.
Khan was still coughing blood the next day when a friend urged them to
report the incident to the police.
"I covered my head and several guys kept beating for 2 minutes until the
dad of my friend came out when they ran," Hassan wrote in a criminal
complaint Oct. 6. The two women identified one of the attackers; a
magistrate executed an arrest warrant for him. A police officer advised
Hassan to buy a cell phone for security.
A month later, Hassan still has the faintest mark on the right side of
his forehead from the beer bottle. He is sitting in the scrappy
apartment he shares with Khan, with computer parts stacked along a wall.
One of the things he loved about Greensboro when he first arrived was
the way strangers greeted him for no apparent reason.
"Now the only people who speak to us think we are Mexican," he says.
'I Don't Like It'
Greensboro, population 224,000, is in the central piedmont of North
Carolina, where candidates for office hold "pig pickin's" and screen
doors slam in the waning days of fall. The Shriners recently decided not
to wear their turbans and blousy pants at the upcoming Jaycees Holiday
Parade out of respect for the victims of Sept. 11.
But beneath the Andy Griffith Americana is a mini-Ellis Island with more
than 120 nations and 75 languages represented in the Guilford County
schools.
If any place was vulnerable to the aftershocks of September's terrorism,
this was it. Porous borders, student visas and refugee resettlement
programs had brought the whole world here.
Of Guilford County's 420,000 residents, between 30,000 and 40,000 are
first-generation immigrants or their children, according to the UNCG
Center for New North Carolinians. A flourishing economy and Greensboro's
progressive streak -- with five colleges in the area and a Quaker mayor
-- helped light a fire under the melting pot.
And then Sept. 11 happened, creating an instant forum for anti-immigrant
voices.
Outside the library on the UNCG campus, a Lebanese business major was
assaulted by two white men shouting, "Go home, terrorist!" He withdrew
from school and returned to the Middle East.
If Hassan's only security was in being mistaken for Mexican, at least he
had plenty of cover, thanks to the wave of immigration Chavez belonged
to. No state in the country has gone through a faster Hispanic immersion
than North Carolina, with a 655 percent increase in the past decade.
Half of the state's quarter-million Hispanics are undocumented, a
distinction that mattered little in the low-wage, labor-guzzling economy
of the 1990s.
But after Sept. 11, a résumé built on sweat was no longer good enough.
"There's a broad public consensus that immigration is about more than
plucking chickens and picking melons," says Dan Stein, executive
director of the Federation for American Immigration Reform, a
Washington-based anti-immigration group. "It's about protecting
communities . . . knowing who's who in America."
After Sept. 11, President Bush stopped talking about granting amnesty to
3 million Mexicans living illegally in the United States. Because of the
weakening economy, U.S. employers lost interest in expanding the foreign
guest worker program. In South Carolina, the state attorney general was
suggesting that the Immigration and Naturalization Service should
deputize local law enforcement to round up the undocumented.
"No one wanted to listen to Pat Buchanan in 1996 when he called for a
moratorium on immigration," says Charles Davenport Jr., an op-ed
columnist for the Greensboro News & Record."Now, people are willing to
think about it."
Davenport says he had watched his town transform overnight with
immigrants, many of whom refused to assimilate. He wants Marines
stationed every 20 feet along the U.S. borders.
"If you walk into Food Lion at 8 at night, you may well be the only
English speaker in the whole place," Davenport says. "I don't like it. I
feel like I'm in another nation. It's not hostility; it's a sorrow for
the culture that I know."
. . . .'This Is Their Life Savings'
Hassan has still not told his family in Pakistan about the beating.
Attending university in America is his father's dream. A middle-class
Pakistani annual income is the equivalent of $10,000. The University of
North Carolina charges international students $5,500 a semester, more
than three times the in-state tuition of $1,700. Last year, foreign
students accounted for 3.4 percent of total enrollment in U.S. colleges
and universities, but they paid nearly 8 percent of tuition and fees,
according to the National Association of Independent Colleges and
Universities.
"This is their life savings we blow away in two semesters," Hassan says
one November morning. He had stayed up very late with his roommate the
night before, drinking black tea and eating boiled eggs, scheming how to
get rich enough someday to repay their fathers.
But the mood is subdued. After the assault, Khan has asked his adviser
if he could take a semester off, but the adviser warned that his student
visa might not be renewed in this unpredictable climate.
With lawmakers talking about a moratorium on student visas, Hassan and
Khan, like Chavez and her boyfriend, have scratched their plans to go
home for Christmas. What if the United States won't let them back in?
They are fighting homesickness and an end-of-semester shortage of funds.
Their cable service has been stopped for nonpayment. "This is the
darkness before dawn," Hassan says.
The cell phone they bought after the assault makes them feel safe. One
school night, they leave campus and drive to the Four Seasons Towne
Center mall with another student of Pakistani descent. It's wonderful
being out, away from the library. They wander through Abercrombie &
Fitch, beneath the posters of shirtless blond heros in football pads. At
American Eagle Outfitters, one of them holds up a T-shirt with the word
SOBER. "You should get this," Khan teases Hassan, one alcohol-abstaining
Muslim to another. At Dillard's, they study a 10-inch Calphalon omelet
pan. Eggs are all they know how to cook.
The next morning, on the way to campus, they pass the High Point Dinner
Bell and its "God Bless America" sign and the Country Bar-B-Q with its
"America Home of the Free and the Brave" sign. Flags were everywhere,
red, white and blue against the Carolina fall.
"It induces the patriotic adrenaline; that's great, every nation should
come together like this," Hassan says philosophically, taking in the
landscape. "What I fear is they are all going to get together and beat
us again. The worst part is they would be singing 'The Star-Spangled
Banner' while they are beating us."
'Just a Fight Between Boys'
It was all a miscommunication, says the 18-year-old man whose name
appears on the criminal complaint signed by Hassan and Khan.
Curtis Bridgman is sitting on his parents' porch one sunny afternoon,
holding a guitar in his lap. He wears a sleeveless T-shirt, a joker
tattooed onto his right biceps and a silver ring in his eyebrow.
"This was just a fight between boys," Bridgman says. "It wasn't no hate
crime."
Furthermore, he says, "it wasn't no seven, eight or nine people. Only
four of us." He says no one used a beer bottle as a weapon, and no one
used a racial epithet.
His mother comes out on the porch. "We come from a multicultural
family," she says, citing a black and Hispanic who've married into their
family. "So how could we be racialist?"
Then his father steps outside. "What'd you do, call someone a [racial
epithet]?"
"No," Bridgman says. "It's about some Pakistans."
"Some Hispanics?" his father asks.
"No, some Afghans," Bridgman says.
Two High Point Police Department officers finally serve the arrest
warrant on Bridgman, charging him with assault with a deadly weapon.
He's scheduled for a January court hearing.
'Will They Know?'
If some members of Congress have their way, Hassan may soon be carrying
a card that includes his fingerprints, retinal scan or facial
biometrics. The INS will start more closely tracking all of the
country's 550,000 foreign students.
"Will they know when I am at the Krispy Kreme?" Hassan asks.
On the same evening Bridgman is arrested, Hassan is leaning against the
fountain on campus. The night is gentle. He has studied and e-mailed
half of Pakistan from the computer lab. Still no word on whether he will
be issued the student visa he applied for in September. He's sure the
school will come through, but less sure about the U.S. Embassy in
Pakistan.
Even with the restrictions, and all that has happened to him, Hassan
still wants to study here. "An American education is highly respected in
Pakistan," he says. He would go back home and work in technology.
But America itself, that's a different dilemma. When Hassan was a boy in
Pakistan, he read Archie comics and imagined America as a magical place.
"Later on is when the reality dawns on you," he says. "The chances of
meeting Betty Cooper are very remote."
He pauses. "Sometimes life is so bad here that you only wish for an
egomaniacal, cheating, low person like Veronica Lodge." . . .
© 2001 The Washington Post Company
=========================
NEWSDAY
excerpted from The Lost
Joie Tyrrell, Collin Nash, Chicago Tribune
November 23, 2001
MORE THAN 3,900 PEOPLE are dead or presumed dead in the terrorist
attacks on Sept. 11 against the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, and
in the downing of United Flight 93 in Pennsylvania, authorities say.
Here are more of their stories. . . .
An Inseparable Pair Had a Child on the Way
Rahma Salie and her husband, Michael Theodoridis, were an inseparable
pair.
A consultant with a Cambridge, Mass., technology firm, Theodoridis had
business to tend to in San Francisco. Salie wanted to reunite with high
school friends in Los Angeles for a wedding. So, on Sept. 11, the Boston
couple boarded American Airlines Flight 11 together.
He was planning to spend some time with her and her friends in L.A.,
skip up to San Francisco to finish some work and return to L.A. in time
for the Saturday wedding, said Salie's father, Ysuff Salie.
"They were very much in love. They wouldn't do anything without each
other," her father said. "There was never anything but a smile on their
faces."
Salie, 28, and Theodoridis, 32, were among the passengers who died when
hijackers slammed the airliner into Tower One.
Theodoridis, a Greek immigrant who spent much of his youth in
Switzerland, came to the United States in the early 1990s. He converted
to Islam before marrying his Muslim bride in 1998, Salie's father said.
The couple met in Boston, when Salie was attending Wellesley College and
Theodoridis was at Boston University. After college, they both landed
jobs at technology firms in Cambridge.
Salie, who also traveled frequently as a computer consultant, was fluent
in Japanese. She was born in Japan to Sri Lankan immigrant parents and
attended high school in Japan before coming to the United States in
1992.
"I think...the sky was the limit for her. She was really going up in
this world," her father said.
"They were both ambitious people, but in a very nice way. They didn't
try to overtake anybody, but they had their goals set."
Salie was seven months pregnant with the couple's first child and was
looking forward to motherhood, her father said.
Since Sept. 11, a string of services have been held for the Boston
couple.
Islamic religious rites also were performed for them.
"Courageously, I have done my duties," he said. "As a father, I sent
their souls off to God."
-Chicago Tribune
Copyright © 2001, Newsday, Inc.
=============================
Jewish congregation offers help to Mideast immigrants
BY BOB REEVES Lincoln Journal Star
Tuesday, November 27, 2001
LANE HICKENBOTTOM/Lincoln Journal Star Bonnie Callahan (right) drives
Zahra Al-Musa and her 3-year-old son, Muhammed, to English as a Second
Language classes. Callahan is among volunteers from the Congregation
B'nai Jeshurun (South Street Temple) who decided after Sept. 11 to do
something to help their Arab neighbors.
After the Sept. 11 attacks, many Americans' thoughts turned to anger
against the terrorists. At the same time, many were filled with
compassion for people from the Middle East who could be victims of hate
and fear.
Laurie Rapkin, a member of Congregation B'nai Jeshurun (South Street
Temple), remembers Rabbi Michael Weisser standing in the pulpit and
talking about an Egyptian woman who was accosted on a downtown elevator
in Lincoln on Sept. 11 by a stranger who said, "I guess you're happy
now."
Members of the Jewish congregation also heard stories about Middle
Easterners finding "for sale" signs maliciously stuck in their lawns or
being told to "go back where you came from."
Fearing the animosity could lead to violence, a group at the temple got
together to do something to help their Arab neighbors. They contacted
the community service agency Faces of the Middle East, asking what they
- middle-class American Jews - could do to help the refugees and other
immigrants from the Middle East.
Temple members learned that some Arabs were afraid to go outside their
homes, so they offered to do grocery shopping or other errands for them.
Rapkin talked with Zainab al-Baaj, an Iraqi woman on the staff of Faces
of the Middle East.
Al-Baaj had been using a van to pick up Arabic-speaking women to come to
English as a Second Language classes at the Good Neighbor Center, 2617 Y
St., but after Sept. 11 she was afraid to be in a vehicle filled with
women in traditional Muslim dress. "I didn't feel safe to drive the
van," she said. "I didn't want to risk anyone's life."
So the temple rose to the occasion, organizing volunteers to pick up the
women and take them to the ESL classes.
Bonnie Callahan, one of the temple volunteers, said she hadn't known any
Arab immigrants or refugees before she started giving them rides. "I
thought this was an opportunity. They're such great people, and I just
love them."
Callahan also has volunteered to help with the language classes. She's
learned a little Arabic and even a few words of Kurdish. "It's
interesting that it took that incident (Sept. 11) to get me involved
with the Arab-American community," she said.
Zahra al-Musa, an Iraqi woman who comes to ESL classes with her
3-year-old son, Muhammad, said Callahan "has become my friend, and I'm
so thankful that she's here to take us to class and take us home."
The temple now has 46 volunteers - both members and non-members of the
congregation - who are willing to provide transportation or other help
to Middle Eastern immigrants, such as assisting them in filing for
Social Security cards or other necessities.
"As we began talking with more and more people, we became aware of all
these very real needs of refugees," Rapkin said.
They discovered that many recent immigrants need warm-weather clothing.
Many left their home countries with almost no possessions, and they lack
what's needed for a Nebraska winter.
In response, the temple launched a clothing drive called Project Winter
Warmth, asking people throughout Lincoln to donate coats, mittens and
gloves and other items.
Many refugees also need driver education training and assistance in
learning to handle money, open checking accounts and other survival
skills. The temple is planning additional fund-raising and volunteer
projects to meet those needs.
The efforts have provided a unique opportunity for Jews and Muslims to
get to know one another, Rabbi Weisse said r.
"We just know we're all in this world together. God doesn't have a
denominational label. We all need to reach out to others, so we can make
the world a better place."
============================
Monday, November 26, 2001
In wake of attacks, some in Maine endure harassment
By C. KALIMAH REDD, Portland Press Herald Writer
Copyright © 2001 Blethen Maine Newspapers Inc.
Noor Khan has been harassed repeatedly since the Sept. 11 terrorist
attacks. People drive by his Bangor business, the Bahaar Pakistani
Restaurant, and shout angry comments. One man threatened to kill him,
his family and his patrons. He doesn't let his two young children play
outside at dusk, because he fears for their safety.
Yet as the holiday approached last week, at least three families in the
Bangor area invited the Khan family to join them in their homes for
Thanksgiving dinner.
Khan's experience mirrors the dualities of life in Maine since Sept. 11.
Some people of Middle Eastern or Central Asian descent - and other
people of color who are perceived to be from those regions - continue to
endure a backlash of harassment, suspicion and discrimination.
But at the same time, others say they have seen strong demonstrations of
support from neighbors and even strangers. They say people are calling
them just to check in, or they ask to be informed if someone is
experiencing harassment.
"Most people don't act in a biased way," said Tom Harnett, assistant
attorney general for civil rights education and enforcement. "During
this difficult time we are really seeing the best and the worst."
Harnett says the Attorney General's Office has been involved in two
serious harassment cases since Sept. 11.
One involved Khan, who filed a complaint against a man in his restaurant
who threatened him and his family. The second involved a Portland
parking attendant who was threatened and shoved.
In both cases, the state issued injunctions that barred the offenders
from making further threats. A violation of the injunctions is
punishable with a fine of as much as $5,000 and one year in jail.
Harnett's office has also conducted seminars in schools throughout the
state, reaching as many as 4,000 students with a message about the
importance of civil rights. Though the sessions were planned well before
the attacks, Harnett says his staff made it a point to discuss stories
of harassment and respect for diversity.
While many agree that civil rights education is important for children,
the message has not reached some adults.
The Maine Humans Rights Commission is investigating 10 incidents of
discrimination reported since Sept. 11, according to Patricia Ryan, the
panel's executive director. Those cases include two that may be related
to the Sept. 11 attacks.
In the Portland area, a Somali man complained that he was fired a day
after his employer learned he was a Muslim. And a woman with a "darker
skin" was fired from her job at a retail shop after a patron questioned
her origin and complained to her manager, according to Ryan. The
allegations are still under investigation, and no findings have been
issued yet by the commission or its staff.
Ryan says people who experience discrimination are more likely to talk
if they have lost their jobs, because so much is at stake. But many
threats or acts of violence based on ethnicity or religious affiliation
go unreported, because the subjects are afraid of more retribution.
Khan, the restaurant owner, says he has endured more than 100 derogatory
comments from strangers. Many, he says, came from people driving by his
restaurant, screaming things like: "Go back where you came from!"
On the other hand, he has also received about 50 letters of
encouragement. He has tacked many of them to a wall in his restaurant.
U.S. Sen. Susan Collins made it a point to visit his business after one
incident. "The support has been amazing," he said.
Dr. Sheena Bunnell, a native of India and an associate professor of
business and economics at the University of Maine at Farmington, says
she also has been well treated by her Maine neighbors. She says she sees
it in the way people make eye contact with her and start a dialogue
about different cultures.
"The act of a few people who were filled with hatred does not represent
the nation's pulse," Bunnell said. "Overall the nation's pulse is very
positive."
Jagdeep Singh Lekhi, who is also a Sikh Indian and wears a traditional
turban, says he has been overwhelmed by the support he has received. He
has used the reaction to terrorism as an opportunity to explain his
culture.
Lekhi, who owns the restaurant Hi Bombay, recently explained the meaning
of his turban and traditions to a man in the Hannaford's parking lot who
asked him if he was "one of them," meaning a terrorist.
"I was glad to help one American to remove his ignorance," Lekhi said.
Victoria Mares-Hershey, a Portland activist who has worked within the
immigrant community for a number of years, says many immigrants and
refugees are concerned about racial profiling and being wrongfully
accused based on their ethnicity or religion.
She says some immigrants are concerned about racial profiling and the
possible loss of civil liberties in the wake of the authorization of
military tribunals.
"There's nothing worse than the oppression of silence," Mares-Hershey
said. "Many people came to this country from places where they were
killed for simply speaking out."
Margaret Juan Lado, who emigrated from the Sudan to the United States,
notes that immigrants are made to feel suspect because the terrorists
were foreigners.
"That sense of freedom that one had, that America is a land of
opportunity and security, some feel that is not the case after Sept.
11," she said.
But Lado, of Portland, says Maine still is a good and safe place to live
despite some uneasiness. For many people, she says, the tragedy gives
people in this country an opportunity to unite and learn about one
another.
Winston McGill, an African-American and a Muslim, says people have taken
the chance to ask questions about the Islamic faith.
"People are naturally just trying to search for answers," said McGill, a
Portland firefighter. "I don't see that as a negative thing at all. I
see it as positive."
Khan, the Bangor restaurateur, also says the tragedy is a way for people
to learn about each other and re-examine the tradition of the United
States as a haven for immigrants.
"This is a time for people to show what America is all about," Khan
said, "(and) why we are the superpower over all the other countries in
the world. This is the time to show what our flag really stands for."
==========================
Long Beach Press-Telegram
Thursday, November 29, 2001
Cambodians aid victims
By John Canalis
Staff writer
LONG BEACH - In an act of patriotism for their adopted homeland, members
of Long Beach's Cambodian community recently donated $10,088 to victims
of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks.
Cambodian business leaders said Wednesday that they gave the donation to
the Long Beach Chapter of the American Red Cross.
Most of the money was raised during a multigroup fund-raiser at
MacArthur Park on Veterans Day called "Cambodian Americans Stand
United." The main organizers were two social-service organizations, The
United Cambodian Community Inc. and the Cambodian Association of
America.
Participants, mostly from the local business community, sold food and
merchandise, donating proceeds to the cause, said event organizer Danny
Vong, who chairs the Cambodian Jewelry Association of Southern
California.
The idea was to show that Cambodian immigrants are proud of their
adopted country and, he said, to directly help families affected by the
Sept. 11 attacks.
"They were very, very proud of their accomplishments and very much
wanted to be a part of this effort," said Red Cross spokesman Jeffry
Howard.
Long Beach boasts the largest Cambodian population outside of their
homeland in Southeast Asia. Many of the estimated 30,000 to 50,000
Cambodians live in and around the Anaheim Street business district
dubbed "Little Phnom Penh."
Other charitable causes are planned, Vong said, to assist families
affected by sometimes-violent clashes between Cambodian and Hispanic
youths.
"We can work together, especially with the Hispanics, to make it
better," Vong said.
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