** All details and photos used with the individual’s permission.
“You are here, but you can’t go out. You can’t work or interact with others. You’re stuck and you don’t know how long it will stay that way.”
For many of us, this describes life under the recent government’s guidelines for preventing COVID-19. But in fact, this is how a resident of IAFR Jonathan House describes life as an asylum seeker.
© Joanna Schaus Photography www.joanna-schaus.com
“COVID-19 didn’t change anything for me,” he says. “If someone asks what the asylum process is like, I could say, do you remember the inconvenience of COVID-19? Well, that is 15% of what it’s like to be an asylum seeker.”
“For Americans, this is totally new. I can imagine there are challenges you face and possible impacts on mental health with the loss of routine and restricted movement. I feel like with COVID-19, I have an advantage. Considering what I’ve gone through already, this doesn’t take that much from me. I am resilient.”
We’re grateful for this asylum-seeking brother’s willingness to share his story, the lessons of resilience he’s learned, and his encouragement for us as we lean into the recent realities of a global pandemic, economic instability, the murder of George Floyd, and political unrest. Here is what he has to say:
Life Interrupted
Back home, I was the helper of vulnerable people. After graduating from university, I was a manager working with NGOs. I put in a lot of effort to be comfortable. I had my own plans for my life.
But then something happened that changed the whole direction. I had to leave my country. I had been a helper of vulnerable people; I never thought that that would be me.
When I first came to the US, I found myself thinking, “It’s unfair: I’ve been made helpless. I’m not able to afford food or accommodation.” It took a year and a half before I was even permitted to work.
Someone might say, “That’s the law; at least you’re safe.” But it’s still not okay. When you’re able to develop a routine and do something normal, you don’t think so much about what happened to you. It reduces the burden a little. But when you come to the US as an asylum seeker, there are immediately lots of barriers that stop you from being able to go back to normal or from making social connections.
Perhaps I don’t worry so much about safety now, but how can I be stress-free? Without routine, without community, you are mentally stuck and tied up, just thinking about the trauma and how you’re not sure whether your family is safe.
You can start to lose hope and to challenge the very basic things you live for …
You saw the people who were protesting because they were tired of the restrictions because of COVID-19. But as an asylum seeker, how do you protest that you’re so tired?
~ Jonathan House resident
The Road to Resilience
Being an asylum seeker has helped me build some skills of resilience, though. I’m grateful to IAFR and The Advocates for Human Rights for their support. Over the past several months, I’ve had resources that have helped me improve my mental health.
Someone gave me the book The Body Keeps The Score, which has helped me understand trauma, and that people can have many types of traumatizing experiences, like bullying or facing rejections, that they are able to heal from. I’ve learned the importance of routine, of doing activities for yourself that just help you feel normal and grounded, like sharing a meal or biking, being active.
I appreciate the community I have at Jonathan House, too. My roommates are also seeking asylum, so we can relate to each other in the difficulties. It gives me encouragement to be able to talk with people who understand.
Through the availability of community and building up a routine, I’ve learned resilience over time. I feel much stronger now. My perspective on my experience has started shifting. Yes, it was bad; it could have been worse. I’m still alive. I’m learning the stories of many people who have overcome trauma, and I know I’m not alone.
An Asylum Seeker’s Perspective on the Pandemic
America is a country where life never stops. COVID-19 came abruptly, and no one could predict the impact it would have on the world. Especially here in the US, nothing like this has happened in living memory. Then, the events surrounding the killing of George Floyd were also a new, uncertain experience for many people.
But for me, I could relate it to things I experienced in my home country. Where I come from, there are cycles of post-election violence, where even if you’re my neighbor and we grew up together, politicians will pit you against each other based on ethnicity, and then you’re no longer my friend.
With protests there, the police will just kill people. So, when these ethnic clashes happen, life stops. People are afraid to go outside. You see people stocking up, like at the beginning of the pandemic. Once, when I was starting university, it lasted for three months. People were running out of food. It was such a terrible time.
So, the restrictions of COVID-19 reminded me of these times at home. And because I’m an asylum seeker, being stuck felt familiar. But I imagine for many Americans, the loss of routine and community is a new and uncomfortable challenge.
The greatest impact that COVID-19 has for me as an asylum seeker is that it means more waiting in terms of my asylum case. This is difficult because the time spent waiting to rebuild your life is already so long, and makes you feel like you have no value.
I know that Americans can relate to how difficult this is. You saw the people who were protesting because they were tired of the restrictions because of COVID-19. But as an asylum seeker, how do you protest that you’re so tired? Here in the US, we have no political voice.
An Asylum Seeker’s Encouragement for Uncertain Times
Because of the pandemic and other events, there are people who have a lot of uncertainty right now. Some have lost jobs, some are separated from their loved ones, some are struggling emotionally. My encouragement for these people is: the challenge might look beyond you, you might think you won’t come through. Your emotions may even get so much that it feels like you’re better off dead than alive. I can assure you: you will definitely come through. The situation of COVID-19 is not permanent. Keep hopeful.
Faith and hope is what gives you strength. For myself, I hope God gives me the opportunity to see my daughter again someday.
I could sit and feel sorry for myself, but instead, I try to look at the next person and consider what they’re going through. For example, I think of George Floyd’s family, I think of his young daughter who just lost her father. How do you think that little girl feels?
Every human being has their own journey. My experiences are a blessing in disguise. It has made me empathetic toward other people.
Resilience doesn’t mean a perfect state; I still slip back, I still ask lots of questions. Stuff is going to happen in life that deeply affects you, but that cycle is necessary for resilience.
When I first arrived in Minnesota, it was in the middle of January, in the deep winter. I was in shock! Now, I’ve come to appreciate the seasons, and see in them an important symbolism. The winter is going to end. No matter how hard life is, you know the winter will end. And even when you are deep in January – the sun is still going to rise.”
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This asylum-seeking resident recently received his work permit, and is currently working toward a certification as a nursing assistant. He’s excited to come alongside and affirm the stories and journeys of the patients he will serve in health care settings.