Speak out to protect immigrants from public charge

Today is the last day to submit comments against the Trump administration's unethical "public charge" rule.



Today, December 10, is the last day to submit a public comment opposing the Trump administration's unethical "public charge" rule, a set of broad regulations that threatens the lives of immigrant families.

According to the proposed regulation, immigrants who apply for lawful permanent resident status could be denied if they or their dependents, including U.S. citizen children, use certain government benefits such as nutrition programs and housing assistance. This is, simply, a nasty attack on immigrant rights, targeting some of the most vulnerable members of our community. No one should have to choose between basic needs like health care or feeding their family and not getting deported.

The government has to respond to every single public comment submitted about a proposed rule change. You can still get one in under today's deadline. Here's some more information, written and illustrated by artist Thi Bui (adapted from this slideshow originally posted by Asian Health Services) on the public charge rule and, more importantly, how you can take action right now.

#KeepPJHome: ICE is targeting the Cambodian community for deportation... and this man might be on the top of its list.

Guest Post by Thi Bui.



Last week, I caught up with Borey Ai aka PJ, whom I wrote about in this piece for The Nib:

Refugee to Detainee: How the U.S. is Deporting Those Seeking a Safe Haven

It's been twelve weeks since PJ was released from ICE detention, two years since he was released from a life sentence in prison for a crime he committed at the age of fourteen. The #KeepPJHome campaign is going strong. Hundreds of postcards have been mailed to California Governor Jerry Brown, asking him to grant PJ a pardon in light of his rehabilitation and years of service to others as a counselor and advocate for juvenile justice reform.

We sat on a grassy knoll overlooking Oakland's Lake Merritt. PJ told me it's been a long time since he sat down in a park. We chatted about how you can rent kayaks and sailboats on the lake. He asked me if there were things I've always wanted to do since I was a kid, and I replied that I've been using my adulthood to catch up on them. I asked, "What about you?"

"So many things," he answered with a smile that looked mostly optimistic but which I couldn't help thinking was incredibly sad at the same time. I thought about a life, humans in cages, and how Americans don't feel safe even though the US has the highest rate of incarceration in the world. Meanwhile, PJ played with a small dog that came to lie down in his shadow and chatted with her owner, an elderly woman with a walker.

A short while later, an electronic beep told him it was time to change the battery on his ankle monitor. He put a fresh battery into the bulky plastic contraption under his sock as we discussed the process of getting a 47-hour pass from his parole officer to go to Stockton to visit his mother and see his childhood haunts.

All of these lingering effects of imprisonment go away if PJ receives a pardon.

This Dy Nguyen and his baby girl.

Guest Post by Thi Bui



This is Dy Nguyen and his baby girl. Like me, Dy was three years old when his mother packed him into a boat to escape Viet Nam, risking everything to seek out safety and freedom.

A victim of political persecution, Dy's mother had been trying to escape since the fall of South Viet Nam. After three failed attempts, Dy's mother made it to Malaysia with her husband and their two boys. But unlike my family, who were resettled after a few months, they were left in the refugee camp for seven years. The camp eventually shut down and they were sent back to Viet Nam along with the other abandoned refugees. By then, Dy was ten years old.

Viet Nam and the U.S. negotiated a program called Resettlement Opportunity for Vietnamese Returnees, and through a complicated screening process, Dy's family was finally allowed to come to the U.S. when he was twelve. The next years of his life were marked by his parents' separation, moving between states, and getting into trouble. In his early twenties, he was convicted for theft by receiving stolen property, lost his green card, and served a five-year sentence. In prison, Dy began to reform. He studied and earned his GED. He found strength and healing in his spiritual faith. Since his release, Dy has been an active member of his church, where he serves as a youth leader and uses his past mistakes to steer those he mentors towards a better path.

Meanwhile, ICE keeps trying to deport him.

This is Mony Neth

Guest Post by Thi Bui



This is Mony Neth. He's the same age as me -- forty two. I came from Viet Nam; he came from Cambodia. His family fled the Khmer Rouge when he was just a few months old. He spent years in a refugee camp in Thailand. By the time Mony arrived in the U.S. as a refugee, he was ten years old.

When he was a teenager, he was convicted of possessing a weapon and receiving stolen property and lost his green card. That was twenty two years ago. Since then, Mony got married, raised a daughter who is now sixteen, and cares for his aging parents. He installs solar panels for a living and serves the homeless with his church community. Even the court that convicted him has recognized his efforts to turn his life around, granting him a certificate of rehabilitation.

But that wasn't enough for ICE.

Angry Reader of the Week: Thi Bui

"I do comics for old people."


Photo Credit: Gabe Clark
Hello, good people of the internet! You know what time it is. It's time to meet the Angry Reader of the Week, spotlighting you, the very special readers of this website. Over the years, I've been able to connect with a lot of cool folks, and this is a way of showing some appreciation and attention to the people who help make this blog what it is. This week's Angry Reader is Thi Bui.