The American Dream: an Unexpected Survivor of COVID-19

“Imagine you are a new refugee and your court date was scheduled for March or April. Now it’s postponed indefinitely. You don’t know where to go, you don’t have a source of income. You’re just left in limbo.”

That, in the words of Nigerian refugee Edafe Okporo, is the vertiginous uncertainty many new refugees are facing after sudden shutdowns due to COVID-19. Even over the phone, his frequent pauses and the slight tremor in his voice hinted at just how dire the situation is for some.

Even before the pandemic, life for refugees under President Donald Trump was up in the air. His administration has slashed the budget request for Migration and Refugee Assistance by 89% this year. With the added tension of a global pandemic and a spike in unemployment, many don’t know what lies ahead, even just a few months down the road.

Although this prolonged uncertainty prevents long-term planning, refugees must still attend to day-to-day realities. Take Ali Khalid Jabbar, a 24-year-old refugee and former interpreter for the US army in Iraq. Like many essential workers, Mr. Jabbar has had to must cobble together several minimum-wage jobs just to earn a livable salary. When he had to isolate because of COVID-19-like symptoms, he went without any income for two weeks.

While this story of a low-income worker may sound familiar, recent refugees face additional vulnerabilities during the pandemic. Jmel Wilson, who works with Neighbors for Refugees in Westchester, explained that several COVID-19 related benefits, like unemployment assistance, are only available to people who filed taxes in 2019. “If you came to America after that, it’s a lot harder,” she said.

Shoshana Akabas, founder of New Neighbors Partnership, agreed that the lack of a safety net for many refugees is a serious issue. She said that, in addition, refugees who came into the country during the pandemic could not even find jobs and had no source of income. Ms. Akabas added, “another group, asylum seekers whose cases are still pending are often not eligible for things like Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) and other public benefits.”

The limited institutional support for the newest refugees may be behind the overwhelming number of requests for help sent to NGOs like No One Left Behind, the organization for which Mr. Jabbar is an ambassador. James Miervaldis, the board Chairman, said although it’s only July, they have already assisted nearly as many families as they did in 2019.

Refugees do have one advantage, though: they’re used to uncertainty and hardship. “Most Americans in March and April were really panicked by COVID,” said Ms. Wilson and her colleague, Holly Rosen Fink, “The new refugees we help are careful-- they wear masks and keep a respectful distance. But they don’t seem as freaked out about it as others.”

“Our clients are some of the most resilient people on the planet. They’re used to upheaval and needing to adapt quickly,” said Amy Robertson, the program director at Hearts and Homes for Refugees.

Isatou Dukureh, a 26-year-old Gambian refugee, added: “With COVID-19, nothing can be predicted. Since I came here, I’ve been adjusting and readjusting all the time. Adapting to a lot of change has definitely helped me deal with the pandemic.”

Even though refugees may have fewer qualms than most about wearing a mask and staying six feet apart, social distancing guidelines still take an emotional toll, especially on those who have just arrived. “Many of the refugees come from countries where they are part of very big communities,” said Mr. Okporo, “For those who have just come here, it’s the first time they are alone.” Without face-to-face contact, it can be very difficult for new refugees to form organic friendships and begin to settle into their new country.

Some have found a way around that barrier, though, noted Mr. Miervaldis. Pushed by the pandemic, Afghan refugees have set up Facebook groups for compatriots living in the same area. In fact, many are now bonding with people they never would have met in their home country because of ethnic and tribal barriers.

Some are coping with hardship in other ways. “Several refugee women have started making masks and we were able to sell them and pay the women,” said Ms. Fink, “Most in this group have never earned money before!” She added that their efforts have not just helped financially, but have “made the women feel empowered and valued, which may not have ever happened in their home countries.”

Under an administration where wins for refugees can be rare and hard-fought, one may wonder: is the American Dream still alive? To the refugee interviewees, the answer is a resounding yes.

“Poor people come here, and they have a voice,” said Ms. Dukureh, now a pre-med student at SUNY Binghamton. “Even though they don’t have money, they’re important,” said Ms. Dukureh,

“In movies, America is shown as the land of the free and the home of the brave. And it really is… Even with some travel restrictions in the pandemic, if I want to leave the state I’m in, I can just drive for three hours and be in a completely different place,” added Mr. Jabbar, soon to enroll in the U.S. Army.

Mr. Okporo, the Nigerian, was persecuted back home for being gay and now runs a predominantly LGBTQ+ refugee shelter in Harlem.

“New York is the place where I can be myself," he said, "America gave me the opportunity to really live. The American Dream is my life.”

--Maya Mukherjee