truthout--2020-06-27--House Fails to Override Trump’s Student Loan Forgiveness Veto

The House of Representatives failed Friday to override President Donald Trump ’ s veto of a bipartisan bill which would have restored Obama-era regulations to the student loan borrower defense program .
Secretary of Education Betsy DeVos sought for years to dismantle the program , which offered financial relief to students deceived or defrauded by predatory institutions .
A draconian rule she enacted last September rejected 95 % of the first 17,000 applicants reviewed by the department .
The House and Senate issued a rare bipartisan rebuke of that rule .
However , Congress could not muster enough votes to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ against the majority of the legislative branch .
Friday ’ s vote came as the Department of Education finds itself mired in settling a class-action lawsuit with a group of defrauded borrowers who successfully argued that the Trump administration illegally stonewalled nearly 200,000 pending applications for debt relief , some languishing for years .
DeVos was threatened with jail time last fall after continuing to collect student loan debts from individuals whose loans to a scandal-ridden and bankrupt for-profit college were legally voided .
The failed vote in the House also came amid @ @ @ @ @ @ @ scrapped a new website designed to help student borrowers apply for loan forgiveness because the site made the process too easy , according to two whistleblower complaints .
The department ’ s Office of Federal Student Aid ( FSA ) was directed to build the site as part of a big-budget effort to pull all student services into one location with a simple user interface and modern tools in order to make it easier for borrowers to access information and file for relief .
The project included information resources about the administration ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ well as legal options for students who feel predatory schools misled them , such as inflating numbers for average post-graduation earnings or employment rate .
The whistleblower , a career staffer who helped build the site , reportedly filed her first complaint after Deputy Undersecretary Diane Auer Jones , a Trump political appointee , rejected the site ’ s new features out of hand , a move which the whistleblower understood as a deliberate effort to obstruct the project .
She reportedly filed a second complaint two weeks ago when Jones effectively scrapped @ @ @ @ @ @ @ July 1 in tandem with the administration ’ s new borrower defense rule — because it offered students too much useful information .
Jones , rejected the site under the pretense that the content was not clear , she said .
“ Diane doesn ’ t want more people applying for it , ” the whistleblower claimed , according to U.S. News & World Report , which obtained a copy of the reports .
“ If it was truly about the way the questions are worded , then why didn ’ t she @ @ @ @ @ @ @ those changes ?
” she asked .
The whistleblower contended that the web team was still grappling with Jones .
“ The website was built in order to filter out people who don ’ t qualify and ensure that borrowers who do qualify have the correct information to apply , ” she said .
To make things easier on borrowers , FSA staff worked with web developer Accenture to create auto-populating forms which would automatically load the correct application for a user and auto-fill personal details already on file .
The site would @ @ @ @ @ @ @ them ineligible , as well as offer a preview of how much they might owe and what interest rates would look like under a plan .
“ I am truly appalled by what the whistleblower reported , but unfortunately not very surprised — this is yet another example of the lengths that Secretary DeVos will go to deny relief to struggling student borrowers , and help predatory for-profit colleges with their bottom line , ” Senator Patty Murray told Salon in a statement .
“ This is unacceptable , and I will fight @ @ @ @ @ @ @ relief they are owed.
” The department , however , argues that the site design had only complicated the process , and that the FSA career employees were the ones to blame for impressing their own ideological agenda .
“ As for the claims about policy interference , perhaps this so-called ‘ whistleblower ’ needs to read the Higher Education Act to understand that Congress designated the policy-making function to the department — not FSA , ” a department spokesperson said in a statement .
Indeed , Jones has been scrutinized before , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on behalf of for-profit institutions and working in the interests of predatory private institutions .
She was at the front of the team which created the new borrower defense formula that spiked 95 % of claims for relief .
A department spokesperson rejected the whistleblower allegations , saying in a statement that “ anyone who says that there has been any effort by anyone at the department to delay or obstruct the development of a new borrower defense form or website is lying .
”

The failed vote comes as a whistleblower alleges that officials killed a loan forgiveness site for being too helpful.
The House of Representatives failed Friday to override President Donald Trump’s veto of a bipartisan bill which would have restored Obama-era regulations to the student loan borrower defense program.
Secretary of Education Betsy DeVos sought for years to dismantle the program, which offered financial relief to students deceived or defrauded by predatory institutions. A draconian rule she enacted last September rejected 95% of the first 17,000 applicants reviewed by the department.
The House and Senate issued a rare bipartisan rebuke of that rule. However, Congress could not muster enough votes to override Trump, who sided with DeVos against the majority of the legislative branch.
Friday’s vote came as the Department of Education finds itself mired in settling a class-action lawsuit with a group of defrauded borrowers who successfully argued that the Trump administration illegally stonewalled nearly 200,000 pending applications for debt relief, some languishing for years.
DeVos was threatened with jail time last fall after continuing to collect student loan debts from individuals whose loans to a scandal-ridden and bankrupt for-profit college were legally voided.
The failed vote in the House also came amid new reports that the Education Department deliberately scrapped a new website designed to help student borrowers apply for loan forgiveness because the site made the process too easy, according to two whistleblower complaints.
The department’s Office of Federal Student Aid (FSA) was directed to build the site as part of a big-budget effort to pull all student services into one location with a simple user interface and modern tools in order to make it easier for borrowers to access information and file for relief.
The project included information resources about the administration’s new borrower defense rule, as well as legal options for students who feel predatory schools misled them, such as inflating numbers for average post-graduation earnings or employment rate.
The whistleblower, a career staffer who helped build the site, reportedly filed her first complaint after Deputy Undersecretary Diane Auer Jones, a Trump political appointee, rejected the site’s new features out of hand, a move which the whistleblower understood as a deliberate effort to obstruct the project.
She reportedly filed a second complaint two weeks ago when Jones effectively scrapped the site — scheduled to go live July 1 in tandem with the administration’s new borrower defense rule — because it offered students too much useful information.
Jones, rejected the site under the pretense that the content was not clear, she said.
“Diane doesn’t want more people applying for it,” the whistleblower claimed, according to U.S. News & World Report, which obtained a copy of the reports.
“If it was truly about the way the questions are worded, then why didn’t she work with us in February to make those changes?” she asked.
The whistleblower contended that the web team was still grappling with Jones.
“The website was built in order to filter out people who don’t qualify and ensure that borrowers who do qualify have the correct information to apply,” she said.
To make things easier on borrowers, FSA staff worked with web developer Accenture to create auto-populating forms which would automatically load the correct application for a user and auto-fill personal details already on file.
The site would alert users to anything which might make them ineligible, as well as offer a preview of how much they might owe and what interest rates would look like under a plan.
“I am truly appalled by what the whistleblower reported, but unfortunately not very surprised — this is yet another example of the lengths that Secretary DeVos will go to deny relief to struggling student borrowers, and help predatory for-profit colleges with their bottom line,” Senator Patty Murray told Salon in a statement. “This is unacceptable, and I will fight to ensure that these borrowers get the relief they are owed.”
The department, however, argues that the site design had only complicated the process, and that the FSA career employees were the ones to blame for impressing their own ideological agenda.
“As for the claims about policy interference, perhaps this so-called ‘whistleblower’ needs to read the Higher Education Act to understand that Congress designated the policy-making function to the department — not FSA,” a department spokesperson said in a statement.
Indeed, Jones has been scrutinized before, joining the department after working for years on behalf of for-profit institutions and working in the interests of predatory private institutions. She was at the front of the team which created the new borrower defense formula that spiked 95% of claims for relief.
A department spokesperson rejected the whistleblower allegations, saying in a statement that “anyone who says that there has been any effort by anyone at the department to delay or obstruct the development of a new borrower defense form or website is lying.”
Tired of reading the same old news from the same old sources? So are we! That’s why we’re on a mission to shake things up and bring you the stories and perspectives that often go untold in mainstream media. But being a radically, unapologetically independent news site isn’t easy (or cheap), and we rely on reader support to keep the lights on.
If you like what you’re reading, please consider making a tax-deductible donation today. We’re not asking for a handout, we’re asking for an investment: Invest in a nonprofit news site that’s not afraid to ruffle a few feathers, not afraid to stand up for what’s right, and not afraid to tell it like it is.
This piece was reprinted by Truthout with permission or license. It may not be reproduced in any form without permission or license from the source.


truthout--2020-06-27--Undocumented Survivors Have Long Lived in Limbo. COVID-19 Is Making It Worse.

Anna had recently given birth to her second daughter when two tall , masked strangers broke into her home in East-Central Texas .
On that evening in early July 2010 , the burglars came in through a backdoor and held a gun against Anna ’ s head .
One of them covered her mouth , telling her not to make a noise or they would shoot .
The little girls started crying as they held onto their mother tightly .
Anna , who is originally from Pakistan and asked to be identified by a pseudonym due to fears about her @ @ @ @ @ @ @ gold earrings , bracelets and two rings .
After the strangers searched the house and found $ 2,500 in cash in one of the bedrooms , they proceeded to punch Anna in the face , hit her in the head and molest her .
Before leaving , they told her they would be back .
She called the police to report the burglary and sexual assault , but no one was ever charged with the crimes .
For days after the attack , Anna couldn ’ t sleep or eat .
She just @ @ @ @ @ @ @ were following me , ” she said .
“ I felt unsafe all the time.
” Adding to Anna ’ s fears was a years-old deportation order threatening to separate her from her U.S. citizen children and husband .
It wasn ’ t until 2017 that Anna learned through her immigration lawyer that she qualified for a special protection that grants temporary status for immigrants who have suffered psychological or physical harm and assists in investigations of crimes , regardless of how many years have gone by .
Known as the U visa @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 2000 as part of the Victims of Trafficking and Violence Protection Act to encourage undocumented victims of domestic violence , sexual assault and other crimes to come out of the shadows without dreading deportation .
But for tens of thousands of immigrant survivors in the U.S. , the promise of protection takes too long to materialize .
Anna applied for a U visa in June 2017 and her case has been pending ever since , leaving her in a limbo the COVID-19 pandemic is only exacerbating .
Anna said she still has flashbacks @ @ @ @ @ @ @ has been diagnosed with clinical depression and severe post-traumatic stress disorder .
With time , Anna went back to studying and obtained her U.S. medical license , but she has struggled to find a full-time job as a doctor because of her unsure immigration status .
When potential employers inquire about her ability to work legally in the U.S. , she doesn ’ t know what to say .
“ I feel so nervous , ” Anna said .
“ The big hospitals never call me back , even for volunteer work.
” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ permit as a result of another legal avenue she ’ s pursuing to fight her deportation , it is often rejected .
When that happens , she moves on to another place , where maybe people will ask her fewer questions .
Before the coronavirus outbreak , Anna was volunteering at a clinic four or five days a week .
She would ask patients about their medical history and measure their temperature and high blood pressure .
Sometimes , if the doctors in charge allowed it , she conducted physical examinations and discussed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to COVID-19 Anna had to stop going into the clinic in March , which has taken a toll on her .
It also doesn ’ t help that the gas station the family owns has seen fewer clients these days , affecting their primary source of income .
“ It ’ s giving me a lot of mental stress and anxiety not doing anything and staying at home all day , ” she said .
“ I want to go back to work.
” Like Anna , there are more than 153,000 immigrants @ @ @ @ @ @ @ available .
Because there is an annual cap of 10,000 visas , the agency in charge of issuing them , U.S .
Citizenship and Immigration Services ( USCIS ) places applicants on a waiting list .
Once on that list , they receive “ deferred action , ” which makes them eligible for a two-year , renewable work authorization and safeguard from deportation .
But as a result of an ever-growing backlog of cases and the agency ’ s delay in processing them , even that step is currently taking almost five years @ @ @ @ @ @ @ are eligible for protection aren ’ t legally allowed to work and can be targeted for deportation .
“ Even the more meritorious cases are sitting on a shelf for years , ” Houston-based lawyer Javier Rivera said .
He recently filed a lawsuit against USCIS on Anna ’ s behalf .
“ It ’ s against the whole idea of receiving an immigration benefit for surviving and helping law enforcement.
” Now , the coronavirus crisis is making undocumented victims all the more vulnerable .
As layoffs and furloughs continue to impact @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ t rely on unemployment benefits or the federal stimulus checks to support their families .
Under shelter-in-place orders , survivors of domestic violence are facing more barriers to leave an abusive relationship and find temporary housing and legal assistance .
And as a result of the chilling effect spurred by a Trump-era rule , families are wary of accessing economic aid and other benefits they are entitled to .
“ COVID-19 is only exacerbating problems and adding fuel to fire that existed before , ” said Cecelia Friedman Levin , a senior @ @ @ @ @ @ @ an organization that supports attorneys and advocates serving immigrant survivors of crime .
“ It ’ s not going to get better.
” Immigrant rights groups and lawyers have long denounced “ unreasonable delays ” in U visa processing times and asked for the annual cap to be raised or removed altogether .
Every fiscal year since 2010 , USCIS has given out all the allocated 10,000 visas and the queue of pending applications has gone up by 1,183 percent over the last decade .
The number of petitions filed every year has @ @ @ @ @ @ @ more than 37,000 in 2017 .
Fewer applications started to come in since then , which experts attribute to a series of policy changes by the Trump administration that undermine the U visa process and discourage people from pursuing that legal option .
Those willing to go through the process now are potentially looking at as many as 10 years before actually receiving a visa — and even longer for a child or spouse who may apply as beneficiaries .
The queue is moving so slowly that USCIS is currently placing cases on @ @ @ @ @ @ @ October 2015 .
Once cases get to the beginning of the line , as many as 85 percent are likely to be approved based on the agency ’ s consistent grant rates over the years .
While USCIS acknowledges that processing times will likely continue to grow , the agency is moving fewer cases forward , which it attributes to “ resource constraints.
” According to a recent USCIS trends report , in fiscal year 2018 , 7,421 applications were put on the waiting list — about one-third of the number from four @ @ @ @ @ @ @ agency five months and not five years to do so .
In a class-action lawsuit filed last September on behalf of thousands of U visa applicants , the Tahirih Justice Center claims that “ USCIS has slow-walked the U visa process ” and that the agency has repeatedly failed to make timely decisions on requests for work permits .
When people can ’ t work to support themselves and their families , it becomes “ a life and safety and health issue , ” said Julie Carpenter , a litigation attorney with the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ by the National Immigrant Women ’ s Advocacy Project found that two-thirds of those who applied for a U visa were able to leave an abusive relationship after receiving a work permit and almost 80 percent could find a job .
Without the ability to stand on their own two feet , survivors are often exposed to further violence .
“ Status and work authorization are critical to maintain safety and stability after victimization , ” Levin said .
Anna dreamed of being a doctor since she was in middle school .
In @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to the bounds of tradition and a male-dominated society .
From a young age , she was promised in marriage to an older cousin in exchange for land .
But unlike other young women in Pakistan , Anna was encouraged by her parents to pursue higher education and after completing a five-year program , she received a bachelor in medicine and surgery .
While in school , Anna fell in love with her husband and they got married in 2006 , despite facing resistance from both families .
Right after the wedding , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ where Anna was supposed to study for the U.S. medical licensing examination .
But when her mother fell sick , she went back home .
Anna tried to return to the U.S. that same month , but she was turned away at the airport because her student visa had been revoked .
She claimed she hadn ’ t known about it .
In Pakistan , Anna said , she was punished for disregarding the customs and “ dishonoring ” her family by marrying her husband .
Several of her relatives tried to force @ @ @ @ @ @ @ also threatened and beat her multiple times — once leading to a miscarriage .
Anna had heard about the case of a woman who was decapitated after refusing an arranged marriage and she was convinced she would sooner or later become the victim of an “ honor killing ” herself .
In 2008 , she fled to the U.S. Because of her previous deportation at the airport , Anna no longer qualifies for asylum but for a higher-standard protection known as withholding of removal .
In the past , immigration judges enjoyed the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ burner if there was a pending application for a protection like a U visa , so that the person wouldn ’ t be deported while waiting .
But that practice has changed under Trump .
And when Rivera , Anna ’ s lawyer , asked USCIS to expedite a decision on her U visa application , the agency denied it .
“ Unfortunately , an exact timeframe for the final processing of this case can not be provided , ” the decision stated .
“ She was a victim of a serious crime @ @ @ @ @ @ @ has multiple U.S. children and is a licensed doctor , ” Rivera said .
“ There ’ s nothing weighing against her.
” Due to the COVID-19 pandemic , Anna ’ s hearing for the withholding of removal case that was scheduled for March got postponed to September 2022 .
With court proceedings and visa adjudications slowing down or coming to a halt , people like her will likely remain without status and the ability to work indefinitely .
In response to the public health emergency , USCIS closed its offices for in-person @ @ @ @ @ @ @ while continuing to adjudicate cases .
But the agency , which is under the Department of Homeland Security , claims it could soon run out of money .
On May 15 , USCIS requested $ 1.2 billion in funding over a two-year period from Congress mentioning a budget shortfall from an estimated 61 percent drop in applications and , consequently , charged fees through the end of the fiscal year .
The emergency funding proposal also includes a 10 percent surcharge to application fees , in line with a raise the agency had @ @ @ @ @ @ @ congressional intervention , a spokesperson said , USCIS will have to furlough around 13,400 employees beginning in early August .
For some critics , the agency ’ s financial struggle can be better explained by an enhanced focus on vetting applications and stricter policies that have made USCIS increasingly inefficient .
Three years ago , when Anna found out the U visa was an option for her , she allowed herself to feel hopeful .
“ I was excited that something came up to relieve me in that long journey , ” she @ @ @ @ @ @ @ little reprieve in waiting .
Anna sees a therapist and goes to the mosque where a preacher helps her “ calm down.
” She tries to keep herself busy to prevent bad thoughts from creeping in .
Whenever she considers suicide , she tries to think of her daughters .
But Anna still avoids interacting with her community as she expects more judgement and chastisement from them .
When people ask her if she has a green card , sometimes Anna says the process is on its way .
“ I wish I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that I was like the other doctors , ” she said .
“ But the main thing is that I ’ m alive .
I ’ m good here .
”

Part of the Series Despair and Disparity: The Uneven Burdens of COVID-19
Anna had recently given birth to her second daughter when two tall, masked strangers broke into her home in East-Central Texas. On that evening in early July 2010, the burglars came in through a backdoor and held a gun against Anna’s head. One of them covered her mouth, telling her not to make a noise or they would shoot. The little girls started crying as they held onto their mother tightly. Anna, who is originally from Pakistan and asked to be identified by a pseudonym due to fears about her uncertain immigration status, handed over her gold earrings, bracelets and two rings. After the strangers searched the house and found $2,500 in cash in one of the bedrooms, they proceeded to punch Anna in the face, hit her in the head and molest her. Before leaving, they told her they would be back.
She called the police to report the burglary and sexual assault, but no one was ever charged with the crimes. For days after the attack, Anna couldn’t sleep or eat. She just cried. “I felt like people were following me,” she said. “I felt unsafe all the time.”
Adding to Anna’s fears was a years-old deportation order threatening to separate her from her U.S. citizen children and husband. It wasn’t until 2017 that Anna learned through her immigration lawyer that she qualified for a special protection that grants temporary status for immigrants who have suffered psychological or physical harm and assists in investigations of crimes, regardless of how many years have gone by. Known as the U visa, it was created by Congress in 2000 as part of the Victims of Trafficking and Violence Protection Act to encourage undocumented victims of domestic violence, sexual assault and other crimes to come out of the shadows without dreading deportation.
But for tens of thousands of immigrant survivors in the U.S., the promise of protection takes too long to materialize. Anna applied for a U visa in June 2017 and her case has been pending ever since, leaving her in a limbo the COVID-19 pandemic is only exacerbating.
Anna said she still has flashbacks and nightmares about the crime. She has been diagnosed with clinical depression and severe post-traumatic stress disorder. With time, Anna went back to studying and obtained her U.S. medical license, but she has struggled to find a full-time job as a doctor because of her unsure immigration status. When potential employers inquire about her ability to work legally in the U.S., she doesn’t know what to say. “I feel so nervous,” Anna said. “The big hospitals never call me back, even for volunteer work.” And although Anna has a temporary work permit as a result of another legal avenue she’s pursuing to fight her deportation, it is often rejected. When that happens, she moves on to another place, where maybe people will ask her fewer questions.
Before the coronavirus outbreak, Anna was volunteering at a clinic four or five days a week. She would ask patients about their medical history and measure their temperature and high blood pressure. Sometimes, if the doctors in charge allowed it, she conducted physical examinations and discussed diagnosis. But because of concerns related to COVID-19 Anna had to stop going into the clinic in March, which has taken a toll on her. It also doesn’t help that the gas station the family owns has seen fewer clients these days, affecting their primary source of income.
“It’s giving me a lot of mental stress and anxiety not doing anything and staying at home all day,” she said. “I want to go back to work.”
Every fiscal year since 2010, USCIS has given out all the allocated 10,000 visas and the queue of pending applications has gone up by 1,183 percent over the last decade.
Like Anna, there are more than 153,000 immigrants waiting for a U visa to become available. Because there is an annual cap of 10,000 visas, the agency in charge of issuing them, U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS) places applicants on a waiting list. Once on that list, they receive “deferred action,” which makes them eligible for a two-year, renewable work authorization and safeguard from deportation. But as a result of an ever-growing backlog of cases and the agency’s delay in processing them, even that step is currently taking almost five years. During that time, those who are eligible for protection aren’t legally allowed to work and can be targeted for deportation.
“Even the more meritorious cases are sitting on a shelf for years,” Houston-based lawyer Javier Rivera said. He recently filed a lawsuit against USCIS on Anna’s behalf. “It’s against the whole idea of receiving an immigration benefit for surviving and helping law enforcement.”
Now, the coronavirus crisis is making undocumented victims all the more vulnerable. As layoffs and furloughs continue to impact households across the country, many can’t rely on unemployment benefits or the federal stimulus checks to support their families. Under shelter-in-place orders, survivors of domestic violence are facing more barriers to leave an abusive relationship and find temporary housing and legal assistance. And as a result of the chilling effect spurred by a Trump-era rule, families are wary of accessing economic aid and other benefits they are entitled to.
“COVID-19 is only exacerbating problems and adding fuel to fire that existed before,” said Cecelia Friedman Levin, a senior policy counsel with ASISTA Immigration Assistance, an organization that supports attorneys and advocates serving immigrant survivors of crime. “It’s not going to get better.”
Immigrant rights groups and lawyers have long denounced “unreasonable delays” in U visa processing times and asked for the annual cap to be raised or removed altogether. Every fiscal year since 2010, USCIS has given out all the allocated 10,000 visas and the queue of pending applications has gone up by 1,183 percent over the last decade. The number of petitions filed every year has climbed consistently, reaching a peak of more than 37,000 in 2017. Fewer applications started to come in since then, which experts attribute to a series of policy changes by the Trump administration that undermine the U visa process and discourage people from pursuing that legal option.
Those willing to go through the process now are potentially looking at as many as 10 years before actually receiving a visa — and even longer for a child or spouse who may apply as beneficiaries. The queue is moving so slowly that USCIS is currently placing cases on the waiting list that were filed in October 2015. Once cases get to the beginning of the line, as many as 85 percent are likely to be approved based on the agency’s consistent grant rates over the years.
While USCIS acknowledges that processing times will likely continue to grow, the agency is moving fewer cases forward, which it attributes to “resource constraints.” According to a recent USCIS trends report, in fiscal year 2018, 7,421 applications were put on the waiting list — about one-third of the number from four years prior, when it took the agency five months and not five years to do so. In a class-action lawsuit filed last September on behalf of thousands of U visa applicants, the Tahirih Justice Center claims that “USCIS has slow-walked the U visa process” and that the agency has repeatedly failed to make timely decisions on requests for work permits. When people can’t work to support themselves and their families, it becomes “a life and safety and health issue,” said Julie Carpenter, a litigation attorney with the organization.
Indeed, a 2014 survey by the National Immigrant Women’s Advocacy Project found that two-thirds of those who applied for a U visa were able to leave an abusive relationship after receiving a work permit and almost 80 percent could find a job. Without the ability to stand on their own two feet, survivors are often exposed to further violence. “Status and work authorization are critical to maintain safety and stability after victimization,” Levin said.
No Reprieve in Waiting
Anna dreamed of being a doctor since she was in middle school. In many ways, her prospects were confined to the bounds of tradition and a male-dominated society. From a young age, she was promised in marriage to an older cousin in exchange for land. But unlike other young women in Pakistan, Anna was encouraged by her parents to pursue higher education and after completing a five-year program, she received a bachelor in medicine and surgery.
While in school, Anna fell in love with her husband and they got married in 2006, despite facing resistance from both families. Right after the wedding, the couple left for the U.S., where Anna was supposed to study for the U.S. medical licensing examination. But when her mother fell sick, she went back home. Anna tried to return to the U.S. that same month, but she was turned away at the airport because her student visa had been revoked. She claimed she hadn’t known about it. In Pakistan, Anna said, she was punished for disregarding the customs and “dishonoring” her family by marrying her husband. Several of her relatives tried to force her to get a divorce. They also threatened and beat her multiple times — once leading to a miscarriage. Anna had heard about the case of a woman who was decapitated after refusing an arranged marriage and she was convinced she would sooner or later become the victim of an “honor killing” herself. In 2008, she fled to the U.S.
Because of her previous deportation at the airport, Anna no longer qualifies for asylum but for a higher-standard protection known as withholding of removal. In the past, immigration judges enjoyed the discretion to put cases on the back burner if there was a pending application for a protection like a U visa, so that the person wouldn’t be deported while waiting. But that practice has changed under Trump. And when Rivera, Anna’s lawyer, asked USCIS to expedite a decision on her U visa application, the agency denied it. “Unfortunately, an exact timeframe for the final processing of this case cannot be provided,” the decision stated.
“She was a victim of a serious crime, suffered trauma, provided evidence, has multiple U.S. children and is a licensed doctor,” Rivera said. “There’s nothing weighing against her.”
Due to the COVID-19 pandemic, Anna’s hearing for the withholding of removal case that was scheduled for March got postponed to September 2022. With court proceedings and visa adjudications slowing down or coming to a halt, people like her will likely remain without status and the ability to work indefinitely.
Those willing to go through the process now are potentially looking at as many as 10 years before actually receiving a visa — and even longer for a child or spouse who may apply as beneficiaries.
In response to the public health emergency, USCIS closed its offices for in-person, non-emergency appointments until early June, while continuing to adjudicate cases. But the agency, which is under the Department of Homeland Security, claims it could soon run out of money. On May 15, USCIS requested $1.2 billion in funding over a two-year period from Congress mentioning a budget shortfall from an estimated 61 percent drop in applications and, consequently, charged fees through the end of the fiscal year. The emergency funding proposal also includes a 10 percent surcharge to application fees, in line with a raise the agency had already proposed late last year. Without congressional intervention, a spokesperson said, USCIS will have to furlough around 13,400 employees beginning in early August. For some critics, the agency’s financial struggle can be better explained by an enhanced focus on vetting applications and stricter policies that have made USCIS increasingly inefficient.
Three years ago, when Anna found out the U visa was an option for her, she allowed herself to feel hopeful. “I was excited that something came up to relieve me in that long journey,” she said. But she has since found little reprieve in waiting. Anna sees a therapist and goes to the mosque where a preacher helps her “calm down.” She tries to keep herself busy to prevent bad thoughts from creeping in. Whenever she considers suicide, she tries to think of her daughters. But Anna still avoids interacting with her community as she expects more judgement and chastisement from them. When people ask her if she has a green card, sometimes Anna says the process is on its way.
“I wish I could practice [medicine] here, that I was like the other doctors,” she said. “But the main thing is that I’m alive. I’m good here.”
Tired of reading the same old news from the same old sources? So are we! That’s why we’re on a mission to shake things up and bring you the stories and perspectives that often go untold in mainstream media. But being a radically, unapologetically independent news site isn’t easy (or cheap), and we rely on reader support to keep the lights on.
If you like what you’re reading, please consider making a tax-deductible donation today. We’re not asking for a handout, we’re asking for an investment: Invest in a nonprofit news site that’s not afraid to ruffle a few feathers, not afraid to stand up for what’s right, and not afraid to tell it like it is.
Copyright © Truthout. May not be reprinted without permission.


truthout--2020-06-27--Federal Court Rules Against Trump’s Bid to Seize Pentagon Funds for Border Wall

The Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals handed President Donald Trump another rebuke Friday by ruling that the administration ’ s efforts to redirect previously appropriated Pentagon funds towards his border wall was an unlawful violation of the Constitution .
“ These funds were appropriated for other purposes , and the transfer amounted to ‘ drawing funds from the Treasury without authorization by statute and thus violating the Appropriations Clause , ' ” wrote Chief U.S .
Circuit Judge Sidney Thomas in the majority opinion.
” Therefore , the transfer of funds here was unlawful.
” According to the 2 to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the border wall was not an unforeseen military requirement , and that funding for the wall had been denied by Congress .
Absent such statutory authority , the Executive Branch lacked independent constitutional authority to transfer the funds at issue here.
” California Attorney General Xavier Becerra , among those who have challenged the legality of Trump ’ s redirection of the funds , welcomed the decision , saying the “ court reminded the president — once again — that no one is above the law.
” The ruling came in a lawsuit @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was filed by the American Civil Liberties Union ( ACLU ) on behalf of the Sierra Club and Southern Border Communities Coalition .
Though the Trump administration is certain to appeal the ruling , the ACLU said the court ’ s decision was a clear vindication for the merits of the legal challenge brought .
“ This ruling is a win for the rule of law , the environment , and border communities , ” Dror Ladin , staff attorney with the ACLU ’ s National Security Project , said in a statement @ @ @ @ @ @ @ wall is already leveling protected lands , desecrating cultural sites , and destroying wildlife .
There ’ s no undoing the damage that ’ s been done , but we will be back before the Supreme Court to finally put a stop to this destructive wall.
” Gloria Smith , managing attorney at the Sierra Club , applauded the ruling as “ monumental for our border communities and desert wildlands ” the stretch along the U.S.-Mexico border .
“ We should be protecting communities , our democracy , and the environment , not @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to do , ” said Smith .
“ We rise with border communities to stop this administration from further inflicting its relentless agenda– harming the people and places we know and love .
”

The Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals handed President Donald Trump another rebuke Friday by ruling that the administration’s efforts to redirect previously appropriated Pentagon funds towards his border wall was an unlawful violation of the Constitution.
“These funds were appropriated for other purposes, and the transfer amounted to ‘drawing funds from the Treasury without authorization by statute and thus violating the Appropriations Clause,'” wrote Chief U.S. Circuit Judge Sidney Thomas in the majority opinion.” Therefore, the transfer of funds here was unlawful.”
According to the 2 to 1 decision authored by Thomas, “the border wall was not an unforeseen military requirement, and that funding for the wall had been denied by Congress. Absent such statutory authority, the Executive Branch lacked independent constitutional authority to transfer the funds at issue here.”
California Attorney General Xavier Becerra, among those who have challenged the legality of Trump’s redirection of the funds, welcomed the decision, saying the “court reminded the president — once again — that no one is above the law.”
The ruling came in a lawsuit, Sierra Club v. Trump, which was filed by the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) on behalf of the Sierra Club and Southern Border Communities Coalition. Though the Trump administration is certain to appeal the ruling, the ACLU said the court’s decision was a clear vindication for the merits of the legal challenge brought.
“This ruling is a win for the rule of law, the environment, and border communities,” Dror Ladin, staff attorney with the ACLU’s National Security Project, said in a statement. “President Trump’s xenophobic wall is already leveling protected lands, desecrating cultural sites, and destroying wildlife. There’s no undoing the damage that’s been done, but we will be back before the Supreme Court to finally put a stop to this destructive wall.”
BIG WIN: 9th Circuit ruled against Trump's unconstitutional syphoning of military funds to build his vanity wall. This is a victory for border communities & for democracy. We & our partners @ACLU & @SierraClub are stopping Trump in his tracks. https://t.co/C3Vzylnon2 — SBCC (@SBCCoalition) June 26, 2020
Gloria Smith, managing attorney at the Sierra Club, applauded the ruling as “monumental for our border communities and desert wildlands” the stretch along the U.S.-Mexico border.
“We should be protecting communities, our democracy, and the environment, not tearing these things apart as Trump hoped to do,” said Smith. “We rise with border communities to stop this administration from further inflicting its relentless agenda– harming the people and places we know and love.”
Tired of reading the same old news from the same old sources? So are we! That’s why we’re on a mission to shake things up and bring you the stories and perspectives that often go untold in mainstream media. But being a radically, unapologetically independent news site isn’t easy (or cheap), and we rely on reader support to keep the lights on.
If you like what you’re reading, please consider making a tax-deductible donation today. We’re not asking for a handout, we’re asking for an investment: Invest in a nonprofit news site that’s not afraid to ruffle a few feathers, not afraid to stand up for what’s right, and not afraid to tell it like it is.
This piece was reprinted by Truthout with permission or license. It may not be reproduced in any form without permission or license from the source.


truthout--2020-06-27--Corporations Avoid Billions in Taxes While Funding Police Foundations

Last week we reported on some of the major corporations that fund police foundations across the US , even as these very same corporations tout their support for the Black Lives Matter movement .
But there ’ s even more to this story : many of these corporate backers of the police pay no federal income taxes while receiving billions in corporate subsidies .
As calls to defund the police are joined by calls to tax the rich , it ’ s clear that in many communities the same corporations are both propping up the police and starving Black and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ by not paying their fair share in taxes .
A recent report by the Institute on Taxation and Economic Policy revealed that profitable Fortune 500 companies paid just over half of the 21 percent federal corporate tax rate and took in a whopping $ 73.9 billion in tax subsidies in 2018 .
An astounding 91 of 379 profitable Fortune 500 companies – ie , about a quarter – “ paid effective tax rates of zero or less on their 2018 US income , ” and their average effective tax rate was negative 5.9 @ @ @ @ @ @ @ from the IRS .
Brought into this context , the minuscule one-time donations and lip service that these corporations give to racial equity are a mockery in comparison to the billions they make in profit , as well as the billions they avoid in paying federal taxes and receive in subsidies .
We found that many of the corporations the ITEP report identified as receiving tax subsidies are the same ones highlighted in our report that are bankrolling police foundations .
Police foundations , which are set up to augment already bloated police @ @ @ @ @ @ @ use to donate money to the police .
Unlike municipal budgets , police foundations have fewer restrictions on how the money can be used and are subject to virtually no public oversight .
Corporate donations to police foundations allows local law enforcement to purchase military and SWAT equipment such as long guns and drones , which are often used against protesters .
When corporations like Amazon and banks like Wells Fargo put out statements in support of Black Lives Matter , what they fail to disclose is their significant and ongoing sponsorship and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ mention the benefits they reap from these relationships .
In some instances , corporations and banks even go so far as hiring police officers to work security for their businesses through programs like the New York City Police Department ’ s Paid Detail Unit , making the question of who the police serve and protect ever more necessary to ask .
Programs like these also highlight how corporations and banks benefit without paying into the system , and have access to law enforcement personnel trained and outfitted through taxpayer dollars to suppress protests @ @ @ @ @ @ @ businesses .
Backers of Police Foundations Top List for Corporate Tax Avoidance and Tax Subsidies Some of the biggest beneficiaries of tax subsidies identified in the ITEP report – from Starbucks to Amazon , Bank of America to Wells Fargo , Chevron to Delta Air Lines – are also major corporate backers of police foundations across the US .
Here are ten of these companies : • Amazon raked in nearly $ 11 billion in profits in 2018 while receiving an effective $ 129 million tax rebate – an effective federal income tax @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was the fourth highest recipient of tax subsidies , receiving $ 2.404 billion against what it should have paid according to the 21 % statutory federal corporate income tax rate .
Amazon is a partner and donor to the Seattle Police Foundation and also sits on the executive committee of its board .
The online retail behemoth has been widely criticized for marketing its facial recognition software to police , giving hundreds of police departments access to video surveillance from its Ring cameras , and providing technical services to ICE .
An Amazon @ @ @ @ @ @ @ numerous police foundations .
Amazon has also come under criticism from its own workers who say – despite the company ’ s lip service to racial equity – it has a “ systemic pattern of racial bias , ” with low wages and racism in its warehouses where Black workers are disproportionately employed .
• • Starbucks took in nearly $ 4.75 billion in profits in 2018 while receiving an effective $ 75 million tax rebate , meaning it had an effective negative 1.6 percent federal income tax rate , according to the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Starbucks received a total of $ 1.077 billion in tax subsidies .
Starbucks recently gave $ 10,000 to $ 24,999 to the Seattle Police Foundation and $ 25,000 to the NYC Police Foundations .
It also has a board seat with the Seattle Police Foundation and was a 5-star sponsor of its 2019 banquet .
The company has also sponsored over 1500 “ Coffee with a Cop ” programs where police come to Starbucks stores to mingle with customers and workers .
Recently , Starbucks faced intense scrutiny for prohibiting employees from wearing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ saying it could “ amplify divisiveness.
” ( Starbucks has since reversed this policy ) • Bank of America received more tax subsidies than any other company in 2018 – an astounding $ 5.595 billion .
Bank of America is a major donor to police foundations across the US .
In 2018 , its charitable arm gave a whopping $ 200,000 to the NYC Police Foundation , as well as $ 51,250 to the Atlanta Police Foundation , $ 25,000 to the Boston Police Foundation , and $ 10,000 to the Los Angeles @ @ @ @ @ @ @ has board seats with the Chicago and NYC police foundations .
• Wells Fargo received over $ 3.2 billion in tax subsidies in 2018 – the third most of any profitable Fortune 500 company .
The scandal-ridden bank , which has profited from what the Action Center on Race & the Economy ( ACRE ) has called “ police brutality bonds , ” sits on the board of the Atlanta Police Foundation and has sponsored its Blue Jean Ball .
The bank is also a donor and partner to the Seattle Police Foundation @ @ @ @ @ @ @ $ 5 billion in profits in 2018 and received an effective $ 187 million in tax rebate – amounting to a negative 3.7 percent tax rate .
This adds up to $ 1.252 billion in tax subsidies for Delta – the eighth most of any profitable Fortune 500 company .
Delta is the chief sponsor of the Atlanta Police Foundation ’ s 2020 “ Night in Blue ” gala and has a board seat with the foundation .
• Chevron took in $ 4.547 billion in profits in 2018 while receiving an effective @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a negative four percent tax rate .
All told , Chevron received a $ 1.136 billion federal income tax subsidy .
Chevron has a seat on the Houston Police Foundation ’ s board and has previously partnered with it to host the North American Mounted Unit Commander ‘ s Association Conference .
• Verizon Communications received $ 1.708 billion in tax subsidies in 2018 – the fifth most of any profitable Fortune 500 , just behind Amazon .
Verizon has a board seat with the Detroit Public Safety Foundation and donates to the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s also a “ Platinum Partner ” of the National Sheriff ’ s Association , as Sludge has reported .
• AT & T received $ 1.125 billion in 2018 federal tax subsidies – just behind Chevron .
According to the Gothamist , AT & T is a “ deep-pocketed ” donor to the NYC Police Foundation .
• DTE Energy , the midwest utility powerhouses , raked in $ 1.215 billion in profits in 2018 while receiving an effective $ 17 million tax rebate – an effective negative 1.4 % tax @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Public Safety Foundation board and also has a trustee seat on its board .
• United Parcel Service ( UPS ) received $ 1.096 billion in tax subsidies in 2018 .
A UPS executive is chairman of the Long Beach Police Foundation , while UPS has sponsored Atlanta Police Foundation fundraisers .
Other companies – such as Halliburton – also support police foundations while avoiding taxes or receiving tax subsidies .
The ITEP report notes that “ [ j ] ust five companies—Bank of America , J.P. Morgan Chase , Wells Fargo , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ $ 16 billion in tax breaks in 2018.
” These companies have all been backers of police foundations .
In a recent Baffler article titled “ Giving Back to Themselves , ” Saritha Ramakrishna examines the creation of police foundations and how the wealthy use them to maintain their power .
She writes : “ Police foundations exemplify the corkscrew logic of racial capitalism , whereby the wealthy and powerful weaponize their assets and wealth against the Black communities and others that they have excluded and extracted from .
Today ’ s ongoing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ long lineage of Black liberatory thought ; they demand a new world .
This new world necessitates not only the abolition of police forces , but the abolition of the entire system that allows Raytheon executives to forge connections and profit from death and trauma in some hotel ballroom , the system that encourages socialites and corporations to qualify their morality by “ giving back ” some of the wealth they have acquired through plunder and exploitation .
The protests not only imagine the possibilities of life without police , but one unmarred @ @ @ @ @ @ @ defunding police departments continue to be made around the country , with activists and organizers demanding that the millions and sometimes billions of dollars that go to local police departments be reallocated to things like housing , education , and social services .
If corporations are serious when they say “ Black Lives Matter , ” they shouldn ’ t just release public statements condemning racism ; they should cut ties with police foundations and pay their fair share in taxes to fund investment in Black and Brown communities .

Last week we reported on some of the major corporations that fund police foundations across the US, even as these very same corporations tout their support for the Black Lives Matter movement. But there’s even more to this story: many of these corporate backers of the police pay no federal income taxes while receiving billions in corporate subsidies. As calls to defund the police are joined by calls to tax the rich, it’s clear that in many communities the same corporations are both propping up the police and starving Black and Brown communities of the investment they deserve by not paying their fair share in taxes.
A recent report by the Institute on Taxation and Economic Policy revealed that profitable Fortune 500 companies paid just over half of the 21 percent federal corporate tax rate and took in a whopping $73.9 billion in tax subsidies in 2018. An astounding 91 of 379 profitable Fortune 500 companies – ie, about a quarter – “paid effective tax rates of zero or less on their 2018 US income,” and their average effective tax rate was negative 5.9 percent, meaning they received a refund from the IRS. Brought into this context, the minuscule one-time donations and lip service that these corporations give to racial equity are a mockery in comparison to the billions they make in profit, as well as the billions they avoid in paying federal taxes and receive in subsidies.
We found that many of the corporations the ITEP report identified as receiving tax subsidies are the same ones highlighted in our report that are bankrolling police foundations. Police foundations, which are set up to augment already bloated police budgets are the primary vehicle that corporations use to donate money to the police. Unlike municipal budgets, police foundations have fewer restrictions on how the money can be used and are subject to virtually no public oversight. Corporate donations to police foundations allows local law enforcement to purchase military and SWAT equipment such as long guns and drones, which are often used against protesters.
When corporations like Amazon and banks like Wells Fargo put out statements in support of Black Lives Matter, what they fail to disclose is their significant and ongoing sponsorship and partnership with the police, not to mention the benefits they reap from these relationships. In some instances, corporations and banks even go so far as hiring police officers to work security for their businesses through programs like the New York City Police Department’s Paid Detail Unit, making the question of who the police serve and protect ever more necessary to ask. Programs like these also highlight how corporations and banks benefit without paying into the system, and have access to law enforcement personnel trained and outfitted through taxpayer dollars to suppress protests and police communities of color inside their businesses.
Backers of Police Foundations Top List for Corporate Tax Avoidance and Tax Subsidies
Some of the biggest beneficiaries of tax subsidies identified in the ITEP report – from Starbucks to Amazon, Bank of America to Wells Fargo, Chevron to Delta Air Lines – are also major corporate backers of police foundations across the US. Here are ten of these companies:
Amazon raked in nearly $11 billion in profits in 2018 while receiving an effective $129 million tax rebate – an effective federal income tax rate of negative 1.2 percent. Amazon was the fourth highest recipient of tax subsidies, receiving $2.404 billion against what it should have paid according to the 21% statutory federal corporate income tax rate. Amazon is a partner and donor to the Seattle Police Foundation and also sits on the executive committee of its board. The online retail behemoth has been widely criticized for marketing its facial recognition software to police, giving hundreds of police departments access to video surveillance from its Ring cameras, and providing technical services to ICE. An Amazon charitable arm, AmazonSmile, donates to numerous police foundations. Amazon has also come under criticism from its own workers who say – despite the company’s lip service to racial equity – it has a “systemic pattern of racial bias,” with low wages and racism in its warehouses where Black workers are disproportionately employed.
Starbucks took in nearly $4.75 billion in profits in 2018 while receiving an effective $75 million tax rebate, meaning it had an effective negative 1.6 percent federal income tax rate, according to the ITEP report. The report notes that Starbucks received a total of $1.077 billion in tax subsidies. Starbucks recently gave $10,000 to $24,999 to the Seattle Police Foundation and $25,000 to the NYC Police Foundations. It also has a board seat with the Seattle Police Foundation and was a 5-star sponsor of its 2019 banquet. The company has also sponsored over 1500 “Coffee with a Cop” programs where police come to Starbucks stores to mingle with customers and workers. Recently, Starbucks faced intense scrutiny for prohibiting employees from wearing Black Lives Matters shirts and pins, saying it could “amplify divisiveness.” (Starbucks has since reversed this policy) Bank of America received more tax subsidies than any other company in 2018 – an astounding $5.595 billion. Bank of America is a major donor to police foundations across the US. In 2018, its charitable arm gave a whopping $200,000 to the NYC Police Foundation, as well as $51,250 to the Atlanta Police Foundation, $25,000 to the Boston Police Foundation, and $10,000 to the Los Angeles Police Foundation. Bank of America also has board seats with the Chicago and NYC police foundations. Wells Fargo received over $3.2 billion in tax subsidies in 2018 – the third most of any profitable Fortune 500 company. The scandal-ridden bank, which has profited from what the Action Center on Race & the Economy (ACRE) has called “police brutality bonds,” sits on the board of the Atlanta Police Foundation and has sponsored its Blue Jean Ball. The bank is also a donor and partner to the Seattle Police Foundation.
This is a painful time for our nation, and we are saddened by the recent incidents. Our company will continue to do all we can to support our diverse communities. Read more from our CEO, Charlie Scharf — Wells Fargo (@WellsFargo) June 2, 2020
Delta Air Lines made over $5 billion in profits in 2018 and received an effective $187 million in tax rebate – amounting to a negative 3.7 percent tax rate. This adds up to $1.252 billion in tax subsidies for Delta – the eighth most of any profitable Fortune 500 company. Delta is the chief sponsor of the Atlanta Police Foundation’s 2020 “Night in Blue” gala and has a board seat with the foundation.
Chevron took in $4.547 billion in profits in 2018 while receiving an effective $181 million tax rebate – effectively a negative four percent tax rate. All told, Chevron received a $1.136 billion federal income tax subsidy. Chevron has a seat on the Houston Police Foundation’s board and has previously partnered with it to host the North American Mounted Unit Commander‘s Association Conference.
Verizon Communications received $1.708 billion in tax subsidies in 2018 – the fifth most of any profitable Fortune 500, just behind Amazon. Verizon has a board seat with the Detroit Public Safety Foundation and donates to the Chicago and NYC Police Foundations. It’s also a “Platinum Partner” of the National Sheriff’s Association, as Sludge has reported.
AT&T received $1.125 billion in 2018 federal tax subsidies – just behind Chevron. According to the Gothamist, AT&T is a “deep-pocketed” donor to the NYC Police Foundation.
Black lives matter and we have a moral and business obligation to engage on this fundamental issue of equality and fairness. Here's how we'll drive change through action: https://t.co/AtgEArLUAK pic.twitter.com/ijlLL9oyOw — AT&T (@ATT) June 12, 2020
DTE Energy, the midwest utility powerhouses, raked in $1.215 billion in profits in 2018 while receiving an effective $17 million tax rebate – an effective negative 1.4% tax rate. DTE donates to the Detroit Public Safety Foundation board and also has a trustee seat on its board.
United Parcel Service (UPS) received $1.096 billion in tax subsidies in 2018. A UPS executive is chairman of the Long Beach Police Foundation, while UPS has sponsored Atlanta Police Foundation fundraisers.
Other companies – such as Halliburton – also support police foundations while avoiding taxes or receiving tax subsidies. The ITEP report notes that “[j]ust five companies—Bank of America, J.P. Morgan Chase, Wells Fargo, Amazon, and Verizon—collectively enjoyed more than $16 billion in tax breaks in 2018.” These companies have all been backers of police foundations.
In a recent Baffler article titled “Giving Back to Themselves,” Saritha Ramakrishna examines the creation of police foundations and how the wealthy use them to maintain their power. She writes:
“Police foundations exemplify the corkscrew logic of racial capitalism, whereby the wealthy and powerful weaponize their assets and wealth against the Black communities and others that they have excluded and extracted from. Today’s ongoing protests and calls for abolition follow a long lineage of Black liberatory thought; they demand a new world. This new world necessitates not only the abolition of police forces, but the abolition of the entire system that allows Raytheon executives to forge connections and profit from death and trauma in some hotel ballroom, the system that encourages socialites and corporations to qualify their morality by “giving back” some of the wealth they have acquired through plunder and exploitation. The protests not only imagine the possibilities of life without police, but one unmarred by this corporate extraction.”
Calls for defunding police departments continue to be made around the country, with activists and organizers demanding that the millions and sometimes billions of dollars that go to local police departments be reallocated to things like housing, education, and social services. If corporations are serious when they say “Black Lives Matter,” they shouldn’t just release public statements condemning racism; they should cut ties with police foundations and pay their fair share in taxes to fund investment in Black and Brown communities.
Tired of reading the same old news from the same old sources? So are we! That’s why we’re on a mission to shake things up and bring you the stories and perspectives that often go untold in mainstream media. But being a radically, unapologetically independent news site isn’t easy (or cheap), and we rely on reader support to keep the lights on.
If you like what you’re reading, please consider making a tax-deductible donation today. We’re not asking for a handout, we’re asking for an investment: Invest in a nonprofit news site that’s not afraid to ruffle a few feathers, not afraid to stand up for what’s right, and not afraid to tell it like it is.
This piece was reprinted by Truthout with permission or license. It may not be reproduced in any form without permission or license from the source.


truthout--2020-06-27--We Must Confront Anti-Black History in All Forms in the Age of #BlackLivesMatter

In early June , a viral video captured Dominicans dressed in all black chasing out a group of people from the Inwood section of Upper Manhattan .
The video sparked debates on Twitter about colorism , Blackness and tyranny within the Dominican community .
Some called the confrontation a racist act informed by a long Dominican history of colorism and anti-Blackness , while others defended the vigilante group , arguing that they were “ protecting ” their neighborhood from being looted .
This conversation prompted me to think about my own subjectivity growing up in the Dominican Republic and the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ practice within my community and familial silence around Blackness .
I am a multiracial Dominican .
To some in and out of my community , I am white-passing .
My reckoning with my racial identity began when I was a boy in the Dominican Republic and continues today .
The first five years of my life , I was raised by my paternal grandmother , an Afro-Dominican woman who did not like to talk about her race .
When I asked her about her father , she often mythologized his Blackness as rumor @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , “ There was a rumor that my father ’ s father was a Haitian man , but I never believed that.
” For a long time , I wondered if she was ashamed of her father ’ s race and ethnicity .
I wanted to know from where this denial came .
My grandmother was a young woman when she fell in love with a white-passing Dominican farmer who impregnated her with a son .
Before their son was born , this farmer emigrated to the U.S. where he started a new @ @ @ @ @ @ @ grandfather , and their son was my father , a multiracial Dominican man who wore his abandonment on his sleeve .
My father died before I summoned the courage to talk to him about his Blackness and mine .
Then there is my mother , who many see as a white woman .
Family and friends affectionately call her , la rubia ( the blonde ) .
She never talks about Blackness .
Growing up , I heard stories of my maternal Spanish great-grandmother who came aboard a steamer to the island .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ yet her story fed an intense marvel within me that I thought was mere curiosity .
But it wasn ’ t simply that .
It was an idealization of the Spaniard ; the whiteness that I often saw celebrated in our Dominican history , popular culture and community that made me want to know more about her .
No one seemed to deny being a rubio/a or a blanco/a — at least not like many denied being negro/a , moreno/a and Haitiano/a .
It appeared to me that regardless of the social context @ @ @ @ @ @ @ being Black , in some contexts , bordered a slight .
Why did we talk about Blackness and whiteness in this way ?
From where did our language for race come from ?
Now , in this critical moment of anti-racist protests stemming from the state-sanctioned murders of Rayshard Brooks , George Floyd , Breonna Taylor , Ahmaud Arbery and so many others , it is critical for us in Dominican and Latinx communities to come to terms with our histories of anti-Blackness and Black denial , which is the history of how @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and teaching this history to our families and friends is an act of anti-racism .
In response to the viral Inwood video and ensuing discussions about anti-Blackness , Harvard Professor of Latinx Studies Lorgia García Peña calls for the “ dismantling of anti-Blackness ” within Dominican and Latinx communities .
She states , “ Anti-Blackness is a pandemic .
It affects every nation .
To be surprised that there is anti-Blackness among Latinx communities — be it Dominican , Puerto Rican , or Mexican — is to misunderstand where racism comes from.
” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ from ?
The racist discourses that emerged from the Dominican Republic are a product of the island ’ s complex history of racial hierarchies , colonial forces and dictatorships .
The truth is that we ’ ve inherited a racist discourse that too often frames Blackness as subjugation .
Anti-Blackness in the Dominican Republic as a Colonial Project The social construct of race in the Dominican Republic and in the diaspora is bound up in histories of conquest , genocide , slavery and tyranny that started with Christopher Columbus ’ s arrival to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Domingo , the island became Spain ’ s first permanent settlement and a catalyst for the expansion of the Spanish empire into the southern hemisphere .
White Spaniards ruled over the colony , controlling a plantation economy that prospered on the backs of Taínos and enslaved Africans .
In 1697 , Spain ceded the western part of the island to France , subsequently named Saint-Domingue .
By the turn of the 18th century , the population in Santo Domingo was approximately 125,000 , of which about 40,000 were white landowners , around 15,000 @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 60,000 were enslaved Africans .
This demographic sharply contrasted with the population of Saint-Domingue , the wealthiest colony in the Caribbean at the time , 90 percent being enslaved Africans .
In 1804 , after 12 years of bloodshed between self-liberated slaves and French imperial forces , the Haitian Revolution came to an end .
Led by Toussaint Louverture , Haiti became the first Black republic in the Americas .
It is a mistake to talk about Dominican race relations , racial optics and the Afro-Dominican experience in the modern world without talking @ @ @ @ @ @ @ colony bordered — and then became a part of — the first Black republic .
In 1821 , Santo Domingo gained fleeting independence from the Spanish crown and became the Republic of Spanish Haiti under the presidency of José Núñez Cáceres .
A year later , in 1822 , Haiti annexed the Republic of Spanish Haiti , unifying both nations and bringing to an end slavery on the entire island .
For 22 years , the island remained united until the Dominican War of Independence in 1844 when an army of Criollos , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
This was the birth of the first Dominican Republic , but this independence was also short-lived .
Seventeen years later in 1861 , Spanish forces recolonized the Dominican Republic .
The country remained under the sovereignty of Queen Isabella II until the Dominican Restoration War of 1865 , when the country regained its independence .
Liberation , however , did not put an end to the island ’ s racialized slaveholding discourse .
Liberation never does .
Brown University Caribbeanist professor Dixa Ramírez argues in her book Colonial Phantoms that 19th-century Dominicans @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ lived beyond the purview of any colonial oversight whether urban or rural .
It should not be surprising , then , that distinct racial discourses would emerge from a slaveholding society structured in relationships not immediately legible to the novice imperial gaze.
” Nineteenth-century Dominicans , like Dominicans today , Ramírez continues , strived to make themselves seen — that is , “ legible within New World histories and narratives that have erased , misunderstood , or inserted them as inferior Others.
” Moreover , equally important to being seen , is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ by which they are defined .
Race often takes center stage in Dominican — and Latinx — cultural acceptance and refusal .
The racial hierarchy , the ultimate formula for oppression in post-slaveholding societies , became a stratifying measure of power , intellect , beauty and legitimacy .
No other figure in Dominican modern history was more concerned with appearances than the 20th-century dictator Rafael Leónidas Trujillo .
Trujillo enacted anti-Black and anti-Haitian policies and laws that , in tandem with the country ’ s complex racial and colonial history , gave way @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Trujillo was an Afro-Latino who often “ wore makeup to lighten his skin.
” He institutionalized anti-Haitianism , which Lauren Derby argues “ is essentially a class-based prejudice , a rejection of the sub-stratum of Haitian cane cutters who are seen as patently subhuman.
” In 1937 , Trujillo ordered the execution of 15,000 Haitians who were accused of stealing cattle .
The massacre became known as the “ Parsley Massacre ” because of the regime ’ s cruel way of distinguishing Afro-Dominicans from Haitians .
When Dominican soldiers confronted Black people @ @ @ @ @ @ @ held up a sprig of parsley and asked them to name it .
“ If the person responded by trilling the “ r ” in perejil ( Spanish for parsley ) , he would be free to go .
Anyone who didn ’ t trill the “ r ” was thought to be a Haitian Creole speaker — and was likely to be killed.
” Trujillo ’ s anti-Haitianism went hand in hand with his efforts to whiten himself and the nation .
His government privileged European immigrants in and out of the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Massacre , Trujillo offered up 26,000 acres of his properties for the settlements of 100,000 European Jews , adding more Europeans to the predominantly multiracial nation .
For 20th-century Dominicans living on the island , and for those who self-exiled to the U.S. and other parts of the world , Trujillo left a racist scar that impressed upon us the myth that European ideals were signs of power , beauty and class .
Ramírez states that , “ The ruling elite had always sided with these European ideals.
” The pressures to be @ @ @ @ @ @ @ enough to help “ compound Dominican elites ’ ‘ silence on race.
’ ” Today , many Dominicans on the island recognize that “ silence on race ” in the face of Black lynchings is a fatal form of anti-Blackness .
On June 9 , for instance , amid a global pandemic that has ravaged the island , an anti-racist group of mostly Afro-Dominicans and Haitians known as Reconocido ( Recognized ) gathered in Santo Domingo ’ s Parque Independencia .
They stood in solidarity with Black Lives Matter demonstrators protesting worldwide police @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
One activist called their gathering “ un acto de solidaridad , un acto de amor contra el racism por lo que le pasó a George Floyd , otro negro asesinado por el racismo ” ( “ an act of solidarity , an act of love against racism for what happened to George Floyd , another Black man murdered because of racism ” ) .
Reconocido protesters were met by counterprotesters , “ an ultranationalist organization dubbing itself the Antigua Orden Dominicana ( Old Dominican Order ) , ” who put out rallying @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for citizens to “ defend against the Haitian invasion.
” “ Defend against the Haitian invasion , ” like Trump ’ s “ Make America Great Again , ” has become a slogan for far-right nationalists on and off the island .
Antigua Orden Dominicana interpreted the June 9 protest not as a vigil for George Floyd , but rather as “ una propaganda para asentar su programa de fusión y ocupación en República Dominicana ” ( “ propaganda to establish Reconocido ’ s program of fusion and occupation in the Dominican Republic @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , too , many Dominicans show that they will not partake in a deadly silence .
Black Lives Matter protests in the streets of New York ’ s Washington Heights neighborhood , Instagram and Twitter conversations about how to talk about anti-Blackness to our family members , and donations to bail funds constitute part of the work we must continue to do to dismantle our inherited myths about Blackness .
Dominicans , a historically colonized and enslaved people , have always looked toward a distant , unrealized future .
Many of us are @ @ @ @ @ @ @ openness and solidarity .
Together , we must confront our inherited traumas and the ones unfolding before us .

Those of us in Dominican and Latinx communities must acknowledge and resist our own colorism and anti-Blackness.
In early June, a viral video captured Dominicans dressed in all black chasing out a group of people from the Inwood section of Upper Manhattan. The video sparked debates on Twitter about colorism, Blackness and tyranny within the Dominican community. Some called the confrontation a racist act informed by a long Dominican history of colorism and anti-Blackness, while others defended the vigilante group, arguing that they were “protecting” their neighborhood from being looted.
This conversation prompted me to think about my own subjectivity growing up in the Dominican Republic and the United States, the lack of anti-racist practice within my community and familial silence around Blackness. I am a multiracial Dominican. To some in and out of my community, I am white-passing. My reckoning with my racial identity began when I was a boy in the Dominican Republic and continues today.
The first five years of my life, I was raised by my paternal grandmother, an Afro-Dominican woman who did not like to talk about her race. When I asked her about her father, she often mythologized his Blackness as rumor and folklore. She’d say, “There was a rumor that my father’s father was a Haitian man, but I never believed that.” For a long time, I wondered if she was ashamed of her father’s race and ethnicity. I wanted to know from where this denial came.
My grandmother was a young woman when she fell in love with a white-passing Dominican farmer who impregnated her with a son. Before their son was born, this farmer emigrated to the U.S. where he started a new family. That Dominican farmer was my grandfather, and their son was my father, a multiracial Dominican man who wore his abandonment on his sleeve. My father died before I summoned the courage to talk to him about his Blackness and mine.
Then there is my mother, who many see as a white woman. Family and friends affectionately call her, la rubia (the blonde). She never talks about Blackness. Growing up, I heard stories of my maternal Spanish great-grandmother who came aboard a steamer to the island. We knew almost nothing about her, yet her story fed an intense marvel within me that I thought was mere curiosity. But it wasn’t simply that. It was an idealization of the Spaniard; the whiteness that I often saw celebrated in our Dominican history, popular culture and community that made me want to know more about her. No one seemed to deny being a rubio/a or a blanco/a — at least not like many denied being negro/a, moreno/a and Haitiano/a. It appeared to me that regardless of the social context, being white was a compliment while being Black, in some contexts, bordered a slight.
Why did we talk about Blackness and whiteness in this way? From where did our language for race come from?
Now, in this critical moment of anti-racist protests stemming from the state-sanctioned murders of Rayshard Brooks, George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery and so many others, it is critical for us in Dominican and Latinx communities to come to terms with our histories of anti-Blackness and Black denial, which is the history of how we see ourselves. Learning, discussing and teaching this history to our families and friends is an act of anti-racism.
We’ve inherited a racist discourse that too often frames Blackness as subjugation.
In response to the viral Inwood video and ensuing discussions about anti-Blackness, Harvard Professor of Latinx Studies Lorgia García Peña calls for the “dismantling of anti-Blackness” within Dominican and Latinx communities. She states, “Anti-Blackness is a pandemic. It affects every nation. To be surprised that there is anti-Blackness among Latinx communities — be it Dominican, Puerto Rican, or Mexican — is to misunderstand where racism comes from.”
So, where does Dominican racism come from?
The racist discourses that emerged from the Dominican Republic are a product of the island’s complex history of racial hierarchies, colonial forces and dictatorships. The truth is that we’ve inherited a racist discourse that too often frames Blackness as subjugation.
Anti-Blackness in the Dominican Republic as a Colonial Project
The social construct of race in the Dominican Republic and in the diaspora is bound up in histories of conquest, genocide, slavery and tyranny that started with Christopher Columbus’s arrival to the island in 1492. Named Santo Domingo, the island became Spain’s first permanent settlement and a catalyst for the expansion of the Spanish empire into the southern hemisphere. White Spaniards ruled over the colony, controlling a plantation economy that prospered on the backs of Taínos and enslaved Africans. In 1697, Spain ceded the western part of the island to France, subsequently named Saint-Domingue. By the turn of the 18th century, the population in Santo Domingo was approximately 125,000, of which about 40,000 were white landowners, around 15,000 were free multiracial people, and some 60,000 were enslaved Africans. This demographic sharply contrasted with the population of Saint-Domingue, the wealthiest colony in the Caribbean at the time, 90 percent being enslaved Africans.
In 1804, after 12 years of bloodshed between self-liberated slaves and French imperial forces, the Haitian Revolution came to an end. Led by Toussaint Louverture, Haiti became the first Black republic in the Americas.
The racial hierarchy, the ultimate formula for oppression in post-slaveholding societies, became a stratifying measure of power, intellect, beauty and legitimacy.
It is a mistake to talk about Dominican race relations, racial optics and the Afro-Dominican experience in the modern world without talking about the fact that this once Spanish colony bordered — and then became a part of — the first Black republic.
In 1821, Santo Domingo gained fleeting independence from the Spanish crown and became the Republic of Spanish Haiti under the presidency of José Núñez Cáceres. A year later, in 1822, Haiti annexed the Republic of Spanish Haiti, unifying both nations and bringing to an end slavery on the entire island.
For 22 years, the island remained united until the Dominican War of Independence in 1844 when an army of Criollos, multiracial and Afro-Dominicans claimed independence from Haiti. This was the birth of the first Dominican Republic, but this independence was also short-lived. Seventeen years later in 1861, Spanish forces recolonized the Dominican Republic. The country remained under the sovereignty of Queen Isabella II until the Dominican Restoration War of 1865, when the country regained its independence.
Liberation, however, did not put an end to the island’s racialized slaveholding discourse. Liberation never does. Brown University Caribbeanist professor Dixa Ramírez argues in her book Colonial Phantoms that 19th-century Dominicans were a majority free Black population that “lived beyond the purview of any colonial oversight whether urban or rural. It should not be surprising, then, that distinct racial discourses would emerge from a slaveholding society structured in relationships not immediately legible to the novice imperial gaze.” Nineteenth-century Dominicans, like Dominicans today, Ramírez continues, strived to make themselves seen — that is, “legible within New World histories and narratives that have erased, misunderstood, or inserted them as inferior Others.” Moreover, equally important to being seen, is Dominicans’ ability to refuse the terms by which they are defined.
Race often takes center stage in Dominican — and Latinx — cultural acceptance and refusal. The racial hierarchy, the ultimate formula for oppression in post-slaveholding societies, became a stratifying measure of power, intellect, beauty and legitimacy.
No other figure in Dominican modern history was more concerned with appearances than the 20th-century dictator Rafael Leónidas Trujillo. Trujillo enacted anti-Black and anti-Haitian policies and laws that, in tandem with the country’s complex racial and colonial history, gave way to a modern discourse for Dominican Blackness. Trujillo was an Afro-Latino who often “wore makeup to lighten his skin.” He institutionalized anti-Haitianism, which Lauren Derby argues “is essentially a class-based prejudice, a rejection of the sub-stratum of Haitian cane cutters who are seen as patently subhuman.” In 1937, Trujillo ordered the execution of 15,000 Haitians who were accused of stealing cattle. The massacre became known as the “Parsley Massacre” because of the regime’s cruel way of distinguishing Afro-Dominicans from Haitians. When Dominican soldiers confronted Black people along the border of Haiti, they held up a sprig of parsley and asked them to name it. “If the person responded by trilling the “r” in perejil (Spanish for parsley), he would be free to go. Anyone who didn’t trill the “r” was thought to be a Haitian Creole speaker — and was likely to be killed.”
Trujillo’s anti-Haitianism went hand in hand with his efforts to whiten himself and the nation. His government privileged European immigrants in and out of the island. A year after the Parsley Massacre, Trujillo offered up 26,000 acres of his properties for the settlements of 100,000 European Jews, adding more Europeans to the predominantly multiracial nation. For 20th-century Dominicans living on the island, and for those who self-exiled to the U.S. and other parts of the world, Trujillo left a racist scar that impressed upon us the myth that European ideals were signs of power, beauty and class. Ramírez states that, “The ruling elite had always sided with these European ideals.” The pressures to be white or to be white adjacent were enough to help “compound Dominican elites’ ‘silence on race.’”
Anti-Racist Movements Today
Today, many Dominicans on the island recognize that “silence on race” in the face of Black lynchings is a fatal form of anti-Blackness. On June 9, for instance, amid a global pandemic that has ravaged the island, an anti-racist group of mostly Afro-Dominicans and Haitians known as Reconocido (Recognized) gathered in Santo Domingo’s Parque Independencia. They stood in solidarity with Black Lives Matter demonstrators protesting worldwide police brutality and state-sanctioned violence against Black people. One activist called their gathering “un acto de solidaridad, un acto de amor contra el racism por lo que le pasó a George Floyd, otro negro asesinado por el racismo” (“an act of solidarity, an act of love against racism for what happened to George Floyd, another Black man murdered because of racism”). Reconocido protesters were met by counterprotesters, “an ultranationalist organization dubbing itself the Antigua Orden Dominicana (Old Dominican Order),” who put out rallying calls on social media days before calling for citizens to “defend against the Haitian invasion.”
“Defend against the Haitian invasion,” like Trump’s “Make America Great Again,” has become a slogan for far-right nationalists on and off the island. Antigua Orden Dominicana interpreted the June 9 protest not as a vigil for George Floyd, but rather as “una propaganda para asentar su programa de fusión y ocupación en República Dominicana” (“propaganda to establish Reconocido’s program of fusion and occupation in the Dominican Republic”).
In New York City, too, many Dominicans show that they will not partake in a deadly silence. Black Lives Matter protests in the streets of New York’s Washington Heights neighborhood, Instagram and Twitter conversations about how to talk about anti-Blackness to our family members, and donations to bail funds constitute part of the work we must continue to do to dismantle our inherited myths about Blackness.
Dominicans, a historically colonized and enslaved people, have always looked toward a distant, unrealized future. Many of us are meeting this moment with cultural dexterity, openness and solidarity. Together, we must confront our inherited traumas and the ones unfolding before us.
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