NYU Gallatin Global Fellowship in Human Rights Blog

Sean Oh

What, Then, are Human Rights?

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Sean Oh
Fellowship Location: USA (Los Angeles)
Esperanza Immigrant Rights Project

After a semester taking a class about human rights and an entire summer interning as a Human Rights Fellow, I still struggle to answer this question: “What, then, are human rights?”

In the specific field of human rights that I had the privilege of working with this summer, I had to reconcile the disparity between the idea that human rights are inalienable rights afforded to all and the fact that they are instead viewed as a zero-sum game. The current ideology on immigration seems to be “keep as many out as possible,”  which becomes such an ironic motto. When thoroughly analyzed, it takes form instead of “keep as many of the poor and underprivileged out as possible.”

The American visas that are currently available can be widely generalized as being for either family-based or work-based immigration. Both are implicitly restricted to people who can immigrate to the United States, and one must be privileged enough to have a close relative who already resides in the US or have the financial capital to immigrate (e.g., the E5 visa requires a minimum investment of $1.8 million). The argument, then, is that these visas exist merely for protection purposes.

This is a weak argument, but I won’t reflect on it here; instead, I’d like to focus on asylum law–the law that is supposed to provide protections, in the name of “human rights.” While laws have the power to protect, however, they also hold the power to restrict. As I have written about in my prior blog posts, this summer in particular was a difficult time for asylum seekers. The Trump administration chose to masterfully seek out and actively persecute “illegal” immigrants, a modern practice coined “crimmigration.”

When asylum law is built into the social fabric, it narrows the road to immigration; those who do not fit the specific requirements cannot be provided a safe haven. And to deny such a refuge is to deny human rights. In this case, can human rights exist in a place we call “the land of the free and the home of the brave?” And if so, who does it serve?

My final task at Esperanza Human Rights was to assist with cancelling the removal of a South Korean family with a son with autism. Quite frankly, I wondered if this case was strong enough to win. In my short experience of a mere 12 weeks, I felt that the case was simply not “sad enough,” “tragic enough”–the paradox of needing to be a victim of specific atrocities to qualify for being rescued.

As a South Korean myself and as one who, due to immigration issues, was effectively deported from the United States, I felt a personal tie to the case. I began to work on the case, doing research on autism treatment in Korea. I found cases where social workers and teachers themselves had physically and emotionally abused students with autism, proving the horrendous conditions and stigmas in the East Asian country. And still, I felt that the case was weak. Nonetheless, I was inspired by the general optimism and positivity regarding the case. For example, when I asked the managing lawyer how he felt the case would go, he responded, “We don’t know until we try. We can only do our best, and that’s what we will do. If we don’t, then who will?”

I wish I could tell you that the case ended well. Truth is, I have no idea how it went. Cases often take months to even years to be decided upon. So much anxiety is caused throughout the entire process, since anxiety is felt every single day, by those whose cases are being deliberated and also by those who stand by and fight for them.

To fight for human rights is to overcome that anxiety and battle injustice.

Ref·u·gee : (n) A person who has been forced to leave their country in order to escape war, persecution, or natural disaster.

by

Sean Oh
Fellowship Location: USA (Los Angeles)
Esperanza Immigrant Rights Project

Over the course of this internship, I asked myself countless times, “What is happening?” That seems to be the best way to put it. The narratives and experiences that each client brought with them presented them with greater complexities than I originally imagined. It is an absurd concept to deem an individual as “illegal,” so rather than using the term “illegal immigrant” for them, I will use “undocumented” or “refugee.” We learned and read about their stories in class at school, but they became so much more real when a face, a body, a family, was tangibly identified and sitting in front of you crying as they retold their stories of trauma.

And yet, all of that was a mere half of the equation. There seems to be a new policy every week regarding immigration. New laws and new types of enforcement strike fear in ongoing waves. The individuals whose lives have already been wrapped in strife and discrimination continue to face trauma even after they escaped their countries and livelihoods for the sake of survival.

Institutions such as Esperanza Immigrant Rights Projects are not common, though the demand for their services is high. As a result, the firm has a constant inflow each day of hundreds of refugees in need of help . While the firm has approximately 300+ cases at any given time, there is a physical limit to how many cases that it can take. As a result, the firm has a department called the Immigration Court Helpdesk (ICH) that is staffed on a rotating basis by all of the firm attorneys. The organization has two locations, one located at the actual court and one in the larger office in house. Refugees come in to share their stories during an official intake so that the attorneys can assess their situation and offer the resources and information relevant for them to apply for asylum or related refugee status.

In July, I had the opportunity to sit in on these official intake meetings to hear stories of trauma ranging from domestic abuse, gang violence, political oppression, and more. I remember one particular intake with a mother and child from the Northern Triangle region of Central America. This intake was conducted entirely in Spanish. I do not speak Spanish, but thankfully, another intern translated what was going on for me. The child kept insisting for me to play with him, and at one point, he asked me to draw him an illustration of Peppa Pig. Never would I have thought that I would be drawing Peppa Pig during my time at this internship, but nonetheless I did!

What was so striking to me was this child’s positivity and laughter. I wondered to myself, when was the last time you had heard such a pure laugh? Despite the trauma, the resilience that this child had was inspiring. I felt myself tearing up and wanting to cry, but I realized it would take away from their experience and pain and instead shift the focus to me, so I fought to hold it in. Hearing their story, I could feel the trauma vicariously and thought, this is human rights.

To fight for human rights is to fight for the baseline necessity to live.

The Fight Against Tragic Realities

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Sean Oh
Fellowship Location: USA (Los Angeles)
Esperanza Immigrant Rights Project

Already a month has gone by since I began my time here at Esperanza. The experiences and lessons that I have taken away from this organization have already greatly surpassed the expectations that I held before joining. Looking back and rereading my first blog post before starting this position, I began to realize how naive I was. How could I possibly hope to understand and even fathom our daunting, discriminatory legal immigration system? Beyond the already complex and difficult structure that it beholds, the current administration, particularly in recent weeks with threats of raids and new policies that physically prevent asylum seekers from even entering the States, presents greater obstacles by the week. I now fear listening to the news, as it now directly influences the work that I am a part of and the community that I am surrounded in.  

Two weeks ago, I had the privilege of joining one of our attorneys at immigration court. That session was particularly for children migrants, and there were roughly ten children under the age of eighteen who were attending. I remember being so excited on the way to court. I imagined a dramatic performance where the attorney would fight on behalf of these children and eventually secure their residency and asylum for the United States. Tragically, what I actually witnessed was far different.

In removal proceedings, there are two types of hearings: a master calendar hearing, where the judge essentially confirms the date for a merits hearing, and the merits hearing, where the substantive case is made to the judge for asylum or similar status to reside in the US. What I attended that day was a master calendar hearing, and I remember being shocked as the judge announced that she found each child removable by law. Each child in that room–terrified and in fear of their lives in another foreign country where they cannot adequately speak the language–was found to be deportable.

I was stunned by my  surprise. The premise of each case, after all, is that these children are deportable, unwanted, illegal. I knew this to be true before I entered the courthouse. This is what I had signed up for and what I had so eagerly looked forward to, right?

I knew that this would be a difficult and draining battle but nonetheless, putting faces–especially the faces of terrified and shaken children–to the cause that I would be fighting for made everything so real. It became more than an internship, more than a fellowship. Lives were on the line. These children, mostly from the Northern Triangle region of Latin America, are not just economic migrants in search for a more bountiful life. They are refugees in search for survival, and we are their last defense.

immigrant girl standing near children and adults
photo courtesy of Esperanza Immigrants Rights Project

Expectations, Goals, and Determination

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Sean Oh
Esperanza Immigrants Rights Project
USA (Los Angeles)

My name is Sean Oh and I am a rising senior at NYU Gallatin School of Individualized Study. My concentration is “international law and long-term nation development,” focusing on a comparative study between Latin American countries and East Asian countries. 

The human rights organization I will be working with this summer is the Esperanza Immigrants Right Project. I plan to work with the direct legal advocacy of unrepresented children, reuniting them with their families and working for their legal status to reside in the United States. 

I chose this project for two primary reasons: I am an immigrant who once lost status to reside in the United States, and I believe that children are the light and hope of this world. While my experience will not correlate completely with the experiences of those I will be working with, I believe in the importance of intersectionally shared experiences, which I hope to leverage into my position. While I believe that greater institutional reform is necessary for immigration rights, currently we find ourselves in the situation that we are in and must work within it to maximize the justice we can hope to achieve. 

Through this project, I hope to understand better the process of immigration and the types of institutional changes that may improve the system to be one of greater equity. What are the roadblocks that bar justice, and how do we dismantle the notion that immigration is a poison to this nation?

I anticipate a great deal of challenges. The battle for human rights always seems to be a difficult one, one constantly facing many and greater adversities. There will be institutional roadblocks and more logistical ones, since the organization I am working for may not have the proper faculties for the change that I hope to see. I recognize that these roadblocks exist but refuse to use them as an excuse not to try. I refuse to give in to complacency and I refuse to let injustice win. I am determined.