January 11, 2012 § Leave a comment
By Cory Bennett
As Ruddy Mirabal remembered it, he had a few hours to kill before a night class in April 2010. So he got in his cousin’s car not knowing where they were going.
When they made a pit stop in Hoboken, N.J., his cousin handed Mirabal something to hold.
It was cocaine. They were quickly arrested by undercover police and Mirabal said he was unknowingly caught up in a drug deal by his cousin.
Nineteen months later, this one night led to a felony cocaine possession conviction and the deportation of Mirabal, 21, back to the Dominican Republic, a country he left behind when he was 8 years old.
For Mirabal, the day was simply a blur.
“Everything was happening so fast and all I could think was, ‘Get me out, get me out, get me out,’” said Mirabal, sitting in the Essex County Correctional Facility, in an interview before his deportation.
As an immigrant without permanent residency, Mirabal’s aggravated felony charge was classified as a “Level 1” offense, resulting in a permanent ban from the United States.
His supporters hoped to reverse the decision citing that he the first student in New York State to earn his high school diploma in jail. But Mirabal was deported on Nov. 15, 2011.
December 19, 2011 § Leave a comment
By Alessandra Potenza
It was a warm, sunny day at the end of November in Manhattan. Camilo Godoy, 22, walked on 42nd Street next to Gerardo Santana, 34. They wandered through a crowd of tourists and businessmen, passed by fancy movie theatres, giant black and white portraits of Marilyn Monroe and huge McDonald’s signs with flickering light bulbs.
“Capitalism at its best,” Godoy told Santana, slowing down a New Yorker’s walking pace that would otherwise be frenzied on a normal Sunday afternoon in Times Square.
But this was not a normal Sunday afternoon. Santana was granted asylum a couple of weeks before after spending eight months in prison in New Jersey. Godoy, a volunteer who has been visiting him in detention, wanted Santana to experience the world he had been secluded from for so long. This was the first time Santana saw Manhattan, and he saw it as a free man.
Although swamped by the upcoming deadlines of several school projects and the development of ongoing artwork, Godoy decided to dedicate his spare free time to the sturdy Cuban man who walked next to him in awe. He led the way through the bustling sidewalk, past the unlit New Year’s Eve’s ball, into the square. There, he took out his big camera and started snapping pictures of Santana, arms wide spread in front of the NYPD booth.
“It’s very nice,” Santana said.
While immigration laws all over the country are stalling, Godoy is trying to make a difference by helping one immigrant at a time. Originally from Colombia and now a naturalized U.S. citizen, Godoy is a passionate volunteer, an artist, a social activist, an idealist fighting for immigrant respect and speaking for the voiceless.
“Being an immigrant myself, being an immigrant of privilege, having a piece of paper and nine digits that so many people desire to be recognized as people who have rights in this country, forces me to really be a voice,” he said.
December 12, 2011 § Leave a comment
By Dervedia Thomas
One year ago, a walk home from work turned into a nightmare for Abraham Paulos, 30, an immigrant born in Sudan to refugee parents from Eritrea.
Paulos came to the United States as a political asylee when he was two years old. But his future in this country was threatened one afternoon when a victim of a robbery told police that he was one of the perpetrators.
This led to four days behind bars, including two at Rikers Island prison complex, before his roommate bailed him out.
“I felt like I was in a dream, with endless cages, handcuffs and dark faces,” he said. “I was angry because I realized that the criminal justice system has little to do with justice and more to do with racism and poverty, and I was extremely sad to see that almost all of the prisoners in one of the biggest city jails in the world were men of color.”
His experience would do more than just make him sad and angry, it would give birth to his career as an activist fighting to change U.S. immigration policies.
After being warned by family and friends that his criminal charges could also lead to the cancellation of his green card and possible deportation, Paulos called the hotline of Families for Freedom a non-profit immigrant rights organization. One year later, he became the executive director of the same non-profit that gave him legal advice and counsel.