Ernesto, his wife and four children aged 5 to 11 arrived this morning from Venezuela after more than a month of traveling on foot and by bus. They don’t speak a word of English and their entire lives fit into two rolling suitcases. “We came because the country is in chaos. We wanted a better future for our kids,” explains Ernesto, looking exhausted, before entering the Roosevelt, a former historic hotel not far from Times Square. This large, somewhat shabby building has become a sort of new Ellis Island, the island near the Statue of Liberty which served between 1892 and 1954 as a reception center for more than 12 million immigrants from the four corners. of the world. On this December morning, we meet a crowd of nationalities in front of the Roosevelt Hotel – Venezuelans, Guineans, Ecuadorians… Few are equipped for the cutting cold. Nor prepared for the obstacle course that awaits them. Once inside, they must wait for hours under the monumental chandeliers in the lobby before being registered and pass a medical examination before getting a bed in one of the shelters. There, they will have to learn to navigate a complex bureaucracy and wait for very long months for a hypothetical right to asylum. Not quite the American dream.
Migrants who come from very far away
Since spring 2022, more than 150,000 migrants have landed in New York, almost half of whom are housed in some 200 emergency centers. Overwhelmed social services have often had to requisition office buildings and hotels at high prices, and open tent villages, particularly on a former military base. Because the city has a unique feature: since the 1980s, it has had a legal obligation to provide a bed to any homeless individual.
Big Apple has always attracted immigrants but most, like Mexicans, relied on family or friends for accommodation and work. The current wave is different. Many come from far away, from Africa, China and especially Venezuela, which is experiencing a population exodus. They arrive with children without knowing anyone in New York and therefore depend on social services. The crisis was amplified by Greg Abbott, the Republican governor of Texas. In April 2022, he had the idea of chartering free migrant buses and sending them to the large Democratic cities in the North to put pressure on the Biden administration and force it to close the border. The Republican governors of Arizona and Florida, as well as the Democratic municipality of El Paso, followed suit. These bus contingents constitute only a fraction of the asylum seekers but the political blow had a strong impact. Eric Adams, the Democratic mayor of New York, personally welcomed the first buses accusing Greg Abbott of acting in an “inhumane” and “anti-American” manner. The result was, thanks to cell phones and social media, encouraging more immigrants to head to Manhattan.
But in recent months, the tone has changed. This influx of undocumented immigrants risks “destroying the city” declared Eric Adams, in the hot seat for awarding a dubious contract to a shelter manager. Since then, he has been desperate to reduce the migrant population which is expected to cost the municipality, according to his estimates, $12 billion over the next two years. He is not the only one to despair. Miriam arrived with her husband and three children from Ecuador five months ago. “The positive side is that we have a roof, meals, the children are in school and I am very grateful for this help,” says this little lady who is waiting for a distribution of warm clothes. “The problem is that we can’t work because we’re waiting for our papers and finding a job in the black market is difficult. I never imagined it would be so hard. My husband wants to go back but we have everything sold to pay for the trip and have no more money. How will we survive if we return to Quito?”, she confides with tears in her eyes.
“It’s cold but it’s still better than in my country”
Eric Adams recently traveled to Mexico, Colombia and Ecuador to discourage potential immigrants. It also toughened reception conditions. From now on, the stay in a shelter is limited to thirty days for an individual and sixty days for a family. After this period, you must start the process again. The measure, if we are to believe the town hall, had a deterrent effect. Less than 25% of the approximately 20,000 people forced to leave their center at the end of November have re-registered. Where did the others go? Mystery.
Yet many are still there, judging by the endless line outside St. Brigid, a former school in the East Village that has been transformed into a reception center. At 9 a.m., there were hundreds of them, almost all Africans from Senegal, Guinea and Mauritania. They took a plane to Nicaragua, then buses to Arizona. Some have been waiting in line for several days. Sissoko, a tall Mauritanian, an agronomist by profession, has already had to change homes three times since he has been here and absolutely must find a bed for this evening. “I didn’t expect this situation. It’s much more difficult than I expected and it’s so cold. But it’s still better than in my country.” The city even imitated Texan methods. She now offers them a plane or bus ticket to the destination of their choice, in the United States or abroad. Sissoko is not tempted. “I don’t know anyone in any other state,” he said. A Venezuelan couple with a little girl, who came by bus from Texas a few days ago, decided to accept a free ticket to… Texas. “We know someone there, it will be easier,” assures the young man. Tyler Hefferon, one of the leaders of the EVLoves NYC charity busy distributing clothes in front of St. Brigid, worries about the next crisis: “Soon we will be faced with families who have reached the sixty-day limit. Qu ‘Are we going to do it?’ he asks himself.
New York is not alone in facing an influx of asylum seekers. Accommodation centers are full in Chicago, Denver, Massachusetts and all have had to reduce the length of stay. The Biden administration has implemented an immigration policy that alternates carrots and sticks. It is trying to develop legal channels and has granted temporary status to more than 400,000 Venezuelans to allow them to obtain work permits more quickly. And this, while discouraging the arrival of new undocumented immigrants thanks to the use of rapid deportations and the continuation of the construction of the wall on the Mexican border – which Joe Biden had nevertheless promised to interrupt. However, the president did not take up Donald Trump’s idea of digging moats filled with snakes and alligators along the wall. None of these initiatives seems to have an impact: from October 2022 to October 2023, American authorities apprehended 2.4 million migrants at the Mexican border, compared to 1.7 million two years earlier.
Strangely, immigration reform now finds itself linked to Ukraine. Republicans in Congress want to condition the sending of 61 billion dollars in military aid to kyiv on a tightening of the border. President Biden acknowledged that the “system was broken” and said he was ready to make concessions. In the meantime, nearly 2,500 migrants continue to arrive in New York every week. Abou, a 22-year-old Mauritanian staying in Austell Place, an office building converted into large dormitories in Queens, has just arrived after a grueling two and a half month trip where he was even kidnapped in Mexico. Does he regret coming? “No,” he whispers, “I’m alive.”
2014: Start of the migrant crisis under Obama.
2016: Trump promises to build a wall.
2022: Texas deports migrants to northern states.