Fear of the future, lessons from the past

Every month or so, Khaled Turkmani buys a dozen roses, which he delivers to patients during visiting hours at Highland Hospital in Oakland, or he volunteers, bringing the homeless food or clothes.

“I understand their struggle. Supporting those who can’t help themselves — it’s something I hold very close to my heart,” he said. “While I’m doing this, I imagine that a lot of other people are doing this for Syrians.”

After speaking out against Syrian President Bashar Assad in the early days of the uprising, Turkmani feared for his life and fled his homeland in 2011. Seeking safe harbor, he moved to Jordan, Saudi Arabia, Bahrain and Thailand, eventually arriving in the Bay Area on a tourist visa at the end of 2014.

“I had no choice,” he said. “To gain freedom, that was the most important thing for the future of me and my family.”

He drained his savings to fly here and support himself while applying for asylum and seeking a job. Now an asylee, he has work papers and has since applied for permanent residency. With the help of Upwardly Global, which provides training and support for skilled, college-educated immigrants, Turkmani became an information technology consultant.

In the wake of President Trump’s executive order that halts the entry of Syrian refugees indefinitely, and refugees from other countries for 120 days, Turkmani’s dream of becoming an American citizen is up in the air. He’s worried that the directive — which also suspends immigration for 90 days from Iraq, Syria, Iran, Sudan, Libya, Somalia and Yemen — may slow or end applications for green cards and citizenship, and will prevent his parents from visiting.

The impact of war, and his longing for family, resonated with me. During World War II, when my parents were children, they were often on the move ahead of advancing enemy forces. Their families fled to Taiwan. Eventually, my parents came to this country as graduate students.

My grandmother followed years later to take care of me, my brother and sister while my parents pursued their careers, contributing to the country they’d come to love.

But now, families in the same situation, who want their elders to know their grandchildren, or to see each other after years of separation, have been cut off from each other.

The executive order threw airports into chaos as border officials tried to sort out the details, protesters rushed in to demand the release of detained travelers, and pro-immigrant rallies broke out from Louisville to London.

So many people have joined demonstrations, I believe, because of their shared connection, whether in their family’s history or in solidarity with their friends, neighbors and colleagues.

Each day has brought new tumult: Federal judges issued temporary restraining orders to block the detention of green-card holders and prevented the government from deporting some arrivals, and the president fired Sally Yates, the acting U.S. attorney general, when she refused to defend the travel ban.

“I’m very worried and stressed out. I have no clue what will happen next,” Turkmani said. “It’s super painful to hear from the president that we are terrorists. We are victims of terrorism, not the perpetrators.”

If we look to the past, we see what happens when we turn people into scapegoats, when hysteria shapes our laws and regulations. The 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act barred most Chinese laborers from coming to the United States. This legalized xenophobia, which lasted more than six decades, tore apart families and only ended in 1943, when China became an ally.

The search for scapegoats repeated itself in that same era, when the father of Anne Frank desperately tried to gain passage to the United States for his family. Restrictive U.S. policies, touted as necessary to protect national security and keep out foreigners during war, barred the Franks. Later on, Anne, her sister and her mother died in the concentration camps.

Here in America, President Franklin D. Roosevelt signed Executive Order 9066, also in the name of national security, that led to the deportation of 120,000 Japanese Americans to internment camps, where they lived under harsh conditions, their civil rights curtailed.

Today we are witnessing a horrifying spike in anti-Muslim hate crimes after Trump signed the order. In the last week, a Texas mosque burned down in a mysterious fire, and in Quebec, gunfire killed members of a mosque.

But demonstrations against the ban, and calls from concerned co-workers, have heartened Turkmani.

“It’s a relief when American people are protesting on behalf of us,” he said.“I consider the United States my country, and I’m grateful that there are people who care.”