Refugees Took Over Trump's Childhood Home
As the president contemplates slashing refugee admission rates, we heard refugees tell their stories at his boyhood Queens residence.
Donald Trump’s childhood home looks like every other house in Jamaica Estate, Queens—a small island of suburbia in one of the most diverse counties in America. This summer the man who leases it put it up on Airbnb; the journalists who couldn’t resist staying there for the story reported that it’s a bit like a museum to Trump. Copies of Art of the Deal are on the coffee table, photos of the Don in 1980s New York adorn the walls, and the kitchen cabinet is stacked with souvenir mugs from the campaign. Even the former reality TV show host’s self-help quotes—”Sheer persistence is the difference between success and failure”—are framed.
This Saturday the humanitarian aid group Oxfam found another use for it, renting the space and inviting reporters, including me, in to meet four refugees, whose prized possessions had been spread throughout the house. As a publicity stunt, it’s almost too on the nose: Here we were in the old home of a president who inherited a real estate empire talking to refugees who have had to build entirely new lives in an unfamiliar place—and who are the sort of people Trump wants less of in the country.
Last week, reports came out indicating the White House is looking into reducing the number of refugees admitted to the US to under 50,000, the lowest mark since 1980, amid a global refugee crisis. And the legal battle over Trump’s “travel ban,” which restricts refugee admissions and travel from certain Middle Eastern countries, continues, with the Supreme Court recently deciding that the administration’s harsh ban on refugees could stand for the time being. So these conversations felt particularly timely, and urgent. Here’s how they went:
Ghassan Shehadeh, born in Syria
Translated by Isra Chaker
VICE: How did you come to America?
Ghassan Shehadeh: I left Syria for the sake of my children. We left Syria in an illegal manner, and took the sea to get into Egypt. The Egyptian coast guard caught us in the water, and they put me, my wife, and two children in prison for three months. The UN was alerted that this was a situation, and they decided to take on this case. After that, we were released, and the Egyptian government gave us a three-month stay before we had to leave the country. Then we went through the vetting process, and one of the last steps was a physical exam. They found out during the exam that my wife was pregnant, and we had no idea. The doctor in charge said we weren’t allowed to go to America for resettlement until she gave birth. So we waited until my wife gave birth, and went through the same vetting process for the newborn. The total process, including waiting for the baby’s arrival, was a little over two years. Then we resettled in Franklin, Maryland.
At what point did you know you had to leave Syria?
I was living in Damascus. As you know, it was the last city that was starting to feel the crisis really come to it. My brother was kidnapped by security forces and arrested. We didn’t know where they were for six months. Then they took my second brother. After that, my father begged us to leave the country with my family. He insisted on it, firstly for my children’s sake, but secondly because it was important, financially, to find the means for my family and send money back.
What’s life in America been like since you got here?
When I first arrived, I was shocked—by a lot of things, but especially the language barrier. But at the same time, there were so many incredible people who were so kind and generous to me and my family. I see people on the street always smiling at me, even if they don’t know me, and that’s amazing. Everyone involved in the resettlement process has treated us with full respect and kindness. We took a four-day course, in Egypt, on American culture, and one thing they told us is that if you don’t ask for help, no one will help you. But as soon as you ask, everyone will help you. We found that lesson to be true.
“How did the American people who value justice and integrity elect him to be their leader?”
What did it feel like to be confronted by the campaign rhetoric of 2016?
Within the country that I was born and raised in, I stopped feeling safe. That feeling of instability stayed with me throughout the entire journey. And so for the two years of the vetting process, we spent the time planning on how to assimilate—what will that look like, and how will we achieve it?
