ILW.COM - the immigration portal Immigration Daily

Home Page


Immigration Daily

Archives

Processing times

Immigration forms

Discussion board

Resources

Blogs

Twitter feed

Immigrant Nation

Attorney2Attorney

CLE Workshops

Immigration books

Advertise on ILW

VIP Network

EB-5

移民日报

About ILW.COM

Connect to us

Make us Homepage

Questions/Comments


SUBSCRIBE

Immigration Daily


Chinese Immig. Daily




The leading
immigration law
publisher - over
50000 pages of
free information!
Copyright
© 1995-
ILW.COM,
American
Immigration LLC.

View RSS Feed

Jason Dzubow on Political Asylum

description

  1. Refugee in Iconic WWII Photo Dies at Age 92

    On the afternoon of August 14, 1945, George Mendonsa was sitting in a movie theater with his date in New York City. Home from the Pacific Theater, where he served in the navy, Mr. Mendonsa was expecting to return to war and to the long-anticipated (and dreaded) invasion of Japan. Suddenly, the movie stopped, the lights came on, and someone announced that the war was over.
    This is how it looks when a war ends (from the days when wars actually ended).
    The theater goers spilled out into the street. Mr. Mendonsa and his date Rita Petri went to a bar where they imbibed maybe a bit too much. They then returned to the celebration in Times Square.


    The 20-year old Mendonsa had witnessed some horrible sights during his time in the navy. Most recently, he saw two Kamikaze planes destroy an American ship. Over 300 servicemen were killed. Many others were horribly wounded. Mr. Mendonsa assisted at the scene, and witnessed the American nurses tending to the injured.


    As he walked through the square, Mr. Mendonsa caught sight of a woman in a nurse's uniform. In an instant, he grabbed her, swooped her down, and kissed her. The moment was captured by photographer Alfred Eisenstaedt and his photo came to symbolize the relief and exuberance that our country felt at the end of World War II (though the continued glorification of Mr. Mendonsa's non-consensual kiss is a bit creepy).


    Although the photo itself became famous, for many years, the people in the photo were unknown. A number of men and women came forward, claiming that they were the ones in the picture. Only in recent years has the mystery been solved (probably).


    It turns out that the woman in the photo (the kissee, if you will) was not a nurse; she was a 21-year old dental assistant from Queens named Greta Zimmer. Ms. Zimmer was also a refugee from Nazi-controlled Austria.


    Margarete "Greta" Zimmer was born on June 5, 1924 in eastern Austria. Her parents, Max and Ida, and her two sisters were Jewish. In the years leading up to World War II, Austria drifted into the orbit of Nazi Germany, and conditions for Jews deteriorated. Then, in March 1938, Austrian Nazis took control of the government. In the same month, German troops occupied the country. Despite the overt anti-Semitism and the increasing danger, the Zimmer family tried to remain in their homeland.


    By 1939, the family's thinking had changed. The danger was mounting and opportunities to leave were disappearing. Max and Ida decided to send their daughters out of Austria, even if they had not secured passage for themselves. One daughter was sent to Palestine. Greta, then 15 years old, and her sister Jo came to the United States (lucky for them, given the strict quota laws in place at the time). The girls hoped that the separation from their parents would be only temporary.


    Relatives in New York welcomed Greta and Jo to the United States. Greta volunteered as an air-raid warden during the war. She took classes at the Fashion Institute of Technology.


    On the day of the photo, Greta Zimmer was working in a dental office near Times Square. All morning, they had been hearing rumors that the war had ended, and after lunch, she went over to Times Square, where she saw a lighted billboard declaring "V-J Day!" As for the kiss, Ms. Zimmer remembered it in a 2005 interview--

    Suddenly, I was grabbed by a sailor. It wasn't that much of a kiss. It was more of a jubilant act that he didn't have to go back. I found out later he was so happy that he didn't have to go back to the Pacific where [he] had already been through the war. The reason he grabbed somebody dressed like a nurse [was because] he felt so very grateful to the nurses who took care of the wounded.

    I'm not sure about the kiss... it was just somebody celebrating. It wasn't a romantic event. It was just an event of "Thank God the war is over."

    After the war, Ms. Zimmer married Dr. Mischa Friedman and had two children. She studied and later worked at Hood College in Maryland. It wasn't until years later that Ms. Zimmer saw the photo and recognized herself in it. She also eventually met George Mendonsa, who by then had married Rita Petri, his date on V-J Day.


    Ms. Zimmer never saw her parents again. They died in Auschwitz. She also lost many other family members during the Holocaust. In all, of 181,000 Jews in Austria in 1938, approximately 65,000 were murdered by the Nazis. Most of the remainder fled the country. Only a few thousand Jews remained in Austria by the end of the war.


    Greta Zimmer Friedman died on September 8, 2016. She was buried in Arlington National Cemetery, next to her late husband, who was a military veteran. She was 92. May her memory be a blessing.

    Originally posted on the Asylumist: www.Asylumist.com.
  2. The Muslim Immigrant's Guide to a Donald Trump Presidency

    Donald Trump has repeatedly promised to bar Muslim foreigners from the United States. More recently, he’s called for “extreme vetting” of such people. Given his pronouncements, it’s not surprising that Muslim immigrants and asylum seekers are worried. But fear not – there is an easy solution for people affected by the ban: Convert to Judaism.
    When Trumpette first converted, we were kvelling. Now, we're verbissen.
    “What!!??! How can I change my religion? I don’t know anything about Judaism,” you say. Do not fret; I am here to help. I will explain to you how to be Jewish. It’s really not that hard. Jews and Muslims are already a lot alike. We both hate pork and love hummus. We're both perpetuating the War on Christmas by wishing others, "Happy holidays." And we both really want to own Jerusalem. See, we're practically cousins.

    Besides, converting to Judaism is the perfect cover. Donald Trump's own daughter converted, and he hasn't tried to ban her from anything.


    So how do you “pass” as Jewish?


    The first thing to know is that a Jewish person never answers a question. Instead, he responds with a question of his own, often followed by a complaint. So for example, if someone asks you, “How are you doing today?,” you don’t say, “I’m fine.” Instead, you say something like, “How should I be doing? What with my bad stomach. My fakakta doctor prescribed me some pills, but they do bubkis.” Get it? Let’s try an example in the immigration context. Here’s a common question that you might encounter:

    Immigration Officer: “How many children do you have?”

    Non-Jewish Answer: “Three.”

    Jewish Answer: “How should I know? They never call, they never write. My youngest is running around with some shiksa. And my oldest! Don’t even get me started. I told her, ‘Go to medical school, like your cousin Herbie,’ but what does she do? Majors in Liberal Arts. Feh! Her father and I spend $50,000 a year on college so she can work as a barista. Oy, what tsuress. Just thinking about it, I'm verklempt already.

    You see – It’s easy. Here’s another one. Let’s say that someone asks you a question that you want to avoid answering. One way to do that is by minimizing the importance of the question, and then making the questioner feel guilty about asking it. We Jews do that by taking the most important word in the question, replacing the first letter in the word with “schm” and then repeating it back. Often, this is followed by a reference to the Nazis. Here’s an example in the immigration context to help clarify what I mean:

    Immigration Officer: “Hello sir, may I please see your visa?”

    Non-Jewish Answer: “Here is my visa.”

    Jewish Answer: “Visa, schmisa! Do you think I’ve been sitting on a plane squished up like a sardine for the last 12 hours just so some Himmler-wanna-be can ask for my papers? My family didn’t survive the Holocaust, not to mention the pogroms, just to have some shmendrick treat me like a gonif. Next thing you know, you’ll be deporting me to a camp. The whole thing makes me want to plotz.”

    At that point, your interrogator will likely let you pass through customs just to get rid of you, which is another advantage of converting to Judaism.


    OK, I think you’ve got it. But here’s one last example. This one's a bit more advanced, so pay attention. If you can master it, no one will ever question your newfound Judaism. In English, most sentences are constructed with a noun, followed by a verb. We Jews often reverse that construction. So we wouldn't say, "She is a fast driver." Instead, we might say, "Fast, she drives." But typically, we'd try to be a bit more colorful: "Fast, shmast. Like Marrio Andretti, she drives." And here it is in the immigration context:
    Immigration Officer: “The fee for your green card is $1,070.”

    Non-Jewish Answer: “Here is $1,070.”

    Jewish Answer: “Nu? One thousand and seventy?! What am I, a Rothschild? Why don't you take my first born son while your at it. Maybe you can get some schlemiel to pony up that kind of money, but not me. Anyway, gelt like this, I don't have. Maybe the big machers can afford your fees, but not us little pishers. Now, be a mensch and hand to me your brochures about moving to Canada?"

    So that's it. Look, it isn't pretty to have to convert (or pretend to convert) to survive. We Jews have done it before (remember the Spanish Inquisition and the crypto-Jews?), but I suppose it beats the alternative. Anyway, in four years, when Michelle Obama becomes president, you can always convert back.

    Originally posted on the Asylumist: www.Asylumist.com.

    Updated 08-25-2016 at 11:34 AM by JDzubow

    Tags: jewish, muslim, trump Add / Edit Tags
  3. The Way We Mourn Is Part of the Problem

    The Jewish community around the world has recently been in mourning for the loss of three young Jewish men, kidnapped and murdered in the West Bank. Their bodies were found on June 30, more than two weeks after they were taken.



    They are all our boys.

    Israel blamed Hamas for the kidnapping and, since the three teens disappeared, has been engaged in a crackdown against the terrorist organization. For its part, Hamas did not claim credit for the crime, but praised the kidnapping. The event has sparked Hamas rocket fire from Gaza into Israel, retaliatory airstrikes, and the revenge killing of an Arab teen by Jewish extremists.


    The discovery of the young men's bodies also led to mass mourning within the Jewish community in Israel, around the world, and here in Washington, DC. Last week, 1,200 mourners attended a memorial service in suburban DC for the slain teens. Most of the attendees were Jews, but representatives of several local Christian communities were also present. All expressed solidarity with the family members and deep sadness at the loss of "our boys."


    Of course in times of tragedy, it is the nature of communities--even fractured ones like the American Jewish community--to come together to mourn and comfort one another. But this recent tragedy in my own community, and our response to it, has gotten me thinking about whether the way we mourn--and what events we choose to mourn--contributes to the problem of violence between communities.


    One area of concern for me is the us/them mentality of the Jewish community's response (and obviously this is not unique to the Jewish community). The idea that there is an us and a them. Our expression of grief over the loss of "our boys" seems to me symptomatic of the problem. We grieve for "our boys," but not for "their boys." Maybe this is a trite point, but I can't help but think about some of the people I have represented; people who have faced senseless losses as horrible as those suffered by the Israeli teens' families.


    For example, I am representing a Syrian couple whose newborn baby was asphyxiated by dust and poison gas during a battle. I also represented (successfully) an Iraqi mother who watched her son gunned down in front of her and in front of his own wife and young child. We recently attended an asylum interview for an Afghan man who saw dozens of his relatives and friends killed and maimed by a missile strike on a family wedding. There are no public memorials for these victims. No one even knows about their stories. Indeed, maybe because stories like these are so common in places like Syria, Iraq, and Afghanistan, no one pays much attention. But I have met all these people and heard their stories, so when I see the outpouring of grief for the three Israeli boys, it is difficult not to feel that the solitary suffering of my clients (and millions like them) is unfair and that failing to fully validate the humanity of such victims is unjust. Perhaps if we thought of people like my clients as "us" rather than "them," we would be more willing to take action to help them (and that goes for all the unaccompanied minors arriving at our Southern border--what if we thought of these children as "our boys and girls"? How would our approach to them differ?).


    Maybe I am hoping for too much here. How can we acknowledge so many losses? Why shouldn't we honor and support "our own" before we deal with everyone else? I don't know, but it seems to me if we could do better about recognizing the humanity and the value of "the other," we would take a big step towards preventing future harm for everyone.


    A second concern I have about my community's response to the deaths is more about what we didn't do. We mourned "our boys," but not the Palestinian boy who was killed in a barbaric revenge attack by Jewish extremists. Israel quickly arrested the culprits and Prime Minister Netanyahu and many others have condemned the killing. These are obviously important steps, but it is a bit different than mourning the loss of the young Palestinian. Mourning the young man's death is important not only because "our side" is responsible for his death and thus it reflects on us, as Jews, but also because we need to recognize the boy's value as a human being.


    Again, maybe it is asking too much--especially in the heat of conflict--for Israelis and Palestinians to mourn each others' losses, but I believe that this is what we must do if we hope ever to end the violence. Indeed, family members of one of the Israeli boys and of the Palestinian boy have been in contact with each other, and some Palestinians and Israelis have been crossing the lines to offer condolences to each other. If people so close to these tragedies can see the humanity in each other, perhaps one day the rest of us will too.

    Originally posted on the Asylumist: www.Asylumist.com.
Put Free Immigration Law Headlines On Your Website

Immigration Daily: the news source for legal professionals. Free! Join 35000+ readers Enter your email address here: