A double-edged sword: Gay and illegal in America
Photo:Kumutha Ramanathan
Jhuan Marrero,18, waits to meet with his lawyer about his asylum case.
By Kumutha Ramanathan February 16, 2011
For the past 10 years, Jhuan Marrero says he dreamt of the moment he would “come clean” to his family about being gay. He never thought he would be delivering a second bombshell in one fell swoop: that he was applying for political asylum.
When the day arrived every minute of the conversation was planned: isolate his father, make small talk and then offer the least controversial nugget of information.
“I was kind of scared that my dad might flip out,” Marrero recalled.
With sweating palms and a racing heart, he told his father he found a lawyer to start the legal proceedings.
He says his father, puzzled, asked him why he would need asylum.
“Because I’m gay,” Marrero responded.
That moment started a journey in which the now 18-year-old would find himself on his own.
The process of coming out to his family was only part of his battle. He is also undocumented, one of millions of illegal immigrants who were brought to the U.S. as minors.
Undocumented Latin American homosexuals have been turning to the asylum process for several decades in an effort to gain full citizenship rights in the United States. Venezuelans point to a hostile political and cultural climate in their native country as the basis for numerous asylum claims over the past five years. Still, the number of successful cases from that country has dropped from 758 in 2008 to 392 in 2009.
Waiting for “something to fall out of the sky”
Marrero possesses the typical cultural sensibilities of any American youth. He listens to Lady Gaga, goes to movies and wears Polo jeans. Yet while most 16-year-olds are preoccupied with getting their first job or applying for their driver’s license, Marrero’s definitive teen experience was much more dramatic.
He says he always assumed he was an American citizen, until his parents sat him down when he was a sophomore in high school and revealed the family secret: they were undocumented. According to Marrero, he, his mother and two siblings entered the country with visitor’s visas when he was three-years-old. They have lived in the country illegally ever since their visas expired more than a decade ago, he added.
Marrero, who is applying for asylum on his own, refused to provide contact information for his family, citing concern for their privacy.
The news of his family’s immigration status was devastating. As it began to sink in, Marrero realized that his future was uncertain.
“My parents just waited 14 almost 15 years for something to fall out of the sky,” he said. “I just hate this constant fear of not knowing what’s going to happen.”
Marrero says his parents spent those years desperately clinging to the hope that federal immigration rules would change, allowing illegal migrants to become citizens if they were productive members of society.
With that goal in mind, they quietly raised their family in Queens without any trouble.
Marrero said his view of himself also began to change. The good-looking, popular kid who was prom king at his high school now felt like an outsider.
“I hate having to live in the shadows because that’s basically what I’m doing,” he said.
His immigration status has already jeopardized his education. As a non-American, he cannot apply for most government student loans and scholarships. He is also not legally entitled to work in the country. Even his ambition to travel abroad seems out of reach now.
“It’s a horrible situation that my parents put [my siblings and I] in, and I wish we could have come the legal way,” he said.
Marrero says he knew his circumstance would not improve if he relied on his parents. He secretly sought legal help. His boyfriend’s father, Edward J. Cuccia, is an immigration lawyer. He agreed to take Marrero’s case pro bono.
“I could be killed”
Beyond short-circuiting his future plans, Marrero’s main preoccupation has become the prospect of losing the asylum battle and being deported back to Venezuela. Once he was brought to the U.S. as a toddler, he never returned to his native country.
The boy with the American accent began researching what his life would be like in a country now foreign to him.
He says he grew up knowing that he would face hostility in the country of his birth because of his sexuality. The term “maricón,” or faggot in Spanish, was a familiar one, he says, among his family’s Venezuelan friends.
Officially, the Venezuelan government maintains it has taken great strides to protect the rights of all citizens.
President Hugo Chavez has even spoken out in support of homosexuals on his weekly-televised program, Alo Presidente. He argued that the revised constitution of Venezuela, approved in 1999, should have protected the rights of gays and lesbians.
A March 2008 ruling by the Venezuelan Supreme Court led to a revision of the document. It now states that, “no individual may be discriminated against by reason of his or her sexual orientation.” According to the 2009 U.S. Department of State’s Human Rights report on Venezuela, the constitutional change “was generally respected in practice.”
This report is one of several pieces of data asylum judges commonly use in evaluating an illegal alien’s asylum case. Yet the same report goes on to state that Venezuelans who are lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender have faced increased police discrimination. References are made to several widely reported incidents, including 13 fatal attacks against transgender people since 2008. The report also acknowledged “victims of hate crimes based on sexual orientation were frequently not reported.”
Other newspaper articles from the country abound with tales of how Operation Safe Caracas, a recent government campaign to crack down on crime, has empowered police to further discriminate against homosexuals.
A 2008 study by a Venezuelan non-governmental organization, Citizen Action Against AIDS, revealed that 36 percent of homosexuals who were polled had faced verbal aggression by police after Operation Safe Caracas was initiated. Another 20 percent faced extortion attempts and 12 percent had to deal with physical aggression against them.
“No slam dunk cases”
Building a strong case for the teen has been eight months in the making. City Council members, social workers and college advisers have all written letters on Marrero’s behalf.
One of them described Marrero as a young man who had “become involved in numerous student leadership roles and community service projects” with a “generosity and dedication far beyond his years.” The letter finished with yet another positive affirmation: “[Jhuan] would most assuredly make a proud and patriotic citizen of our nation.”
His lawyer rushed to assemble his defense before Marrero’s 18th birthday last October. According to federal immigration law, an asylum case must be filed within one year of a person arriving in the country, unless they are minors.
“Happily, we are coming to his rescue,” said Cuccia.
While he maintained that Marrero had a “strong” case for asylum, a significant amount of discretion still lies in the immigration court system, particularly in New York.
A study by the Transactional Records Access Clearinghouse, a watchdog group that examines federal immigration enforcement records, tracked the verdicts in cases dealing with Chinese asylum seekers between 2000 to 2005 in New York state. A total of 34 judge’s decisions handled these cases. One judge, William F. Jankun, declined to grant asylum in 94.5 percent of the 421 matters he reviewed. Yet another judge, Margaret McManus, only denied 6.9 percent of 929 matters before her.
According to the same Clearinghouse report, “Judges who had high denial rates for Chinese also denied non-Chinese asylum seekers at similarly higher rates.
Judges who denied Chinese asylum cases at lower rates also denied non-Chinese also at lower rates.”
“The big question is which judge will Jhuan get,” said Cuccia. “Certain judges will have a better chance of success, certain judges will have a very poor chance of success.”
The standard in determining a person’s eligibility for asylum was established in a 1987 Supreme Court ruling: Immigration and Naturalization Service v. Cardoza-Fonseca. In this case, it was held that a person must prove he or she face a well-founded fear of persecution in their native country.
Success rates in proving this fear vary among judges, according to legal experts. Some may accept an applicant’s own testimony as sufficient evidence, while others require corroborative evidence.
Since Marrero never faced direct discrimination in Venezuela, his lawyer said he must argue that he fears future persecution.
In assembling the case, Cuccia included examples that demonstrated what he argues is a well-established pattern of abuse against homosexuals in the country, including newspaper articles and government reports.
“We are each other’s keeper”
Marrero’s sense of isolation and helplessness has been matched by an outpouring of support by his friends and boyfriend.
He attends City University of New York, where he says he considers the college’s student association for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender students an emotional refuge. At the group’s clubroom, Lady Gaga figures prominently on all the walls. Students hang out there frequently and open their lives up to each other with ease.
After greeting one another on a recent afternoon, the topic quickly turned to Marrero’s asylum process. All his friends – gay and straight – listened intently.
A collective gasp rang out as Marrero described the violence and persecution he could face back in Venezuela. His boyfriend, Nick Cuccia, squeezed his arm for comfort.
“He’s American, he represents everything that America is about,” said Cuccia. “Jhuan is not the kind of person who is going to hide who he is…once people find out [in Venezuela] it’s not going to be very pretty.”
Such fears have prompted some of Marrero’s friends to mobilize in support.
Several of them were interviewed for an article in the college newspaper about his immigration plight. Other friends were also were interviewed by government officials for his asylum case.
“[This is] something someone should not face alone,” said Alexandra Crisafi, a friend who is also a lesbian. “We are each other’s keeper.”
“Another waiting game”
After months of waiting, Marrero recently crossed yet another threshold in his ensuing asylum battle. He met with an asylum interviewer at the New York Asylum Office in Rosedale to discuss his case.
Marrero said he spent roughly an hour discussing his experience of coming out as a homosexual, his past relationships with men, his activism within the gay and lesbian community and his fears of returning to Venezuela. No question went untouched.
“It was bittersweet,” he said. “Such a relief off my shoulders. But now I have an overwhelming worry. I carry it on my shoulders.”
It could a few weeks before Marrero hears back from the asylum interviewer. His future holds two distinct paths: he could either be granted asylum immediately or face the prospect of going before a judge to plead his case.
“I just want it all to be over,” he said.
