They arrive in Minnesota homesick, awed by snow and stunned by the contrast of wealth and homelessness.
Fearing strangers, some stay inside their apartments after school. But home is unfamiliar, too, for those reuniting with the parents who left them as toddlers in search of a better life an ocean away.
They dream of becoming engineers, lawyers, doctors or nurses, but they know their imperfect English and lack of money present major obstacles.
Some see a future for themselves in the United States. Others long to return to the countries they fled, willing to risk their lives for a sense of belonging.
Thirty students from St. Paul’s LEAP High School are telling their immigration stories with help from the nonprofit Green Card Voices. A book of their first-person narratives will be published this summer, and video interviews of the students will be available online.
It’s the third such project for Green Card Voices, after books with students from Minneapolis’ Wellstone International and Fargo South. But there’s little overlap, said executive director Tea Rozman-Clark. Of the 12 countries represented in the St. Paul book, just four were included in the Minneapolis book.
“We were really eager to do a St. Paul book. We have very, very different stories,” she said.
Students wrote the essays for Amy Hewett-Olatunde’s English class and later agreed, with some prodding, to participate in the multimedia project, which includes portrait photographs as well.
The teacher said it’s important for the community to get to know the students at LEAP, who don’t get much exposure to their American-born peers or the rest of St. Paul. An acronym for Limited English Achievement Program, LEAP serves exclusively English language learners in grades 9-12.
Hewett-Olatunde hopes the project will foster an understanding of who the Hamline-Midway school’s 268 students are and why they’re here.
“I think Green Card Voices is one way to educate people who just don’t understand, and once they understand who these kids are, it would be pretty hard to not fall in love with them — or at least understand that they have the same aspirations, the same goals that all kids have,” she said.
She said their perspective is especially valuable given the political climate.
Rozman-Clark was recording the interviews last month when President Donald Trump signed executive actions temporarily halting new refugee arrivals and restricting travel from seven mostly Muslim countries.
Despite widespread protests, a recent Reuters/Ipsos poll found more Americans support than oppose the actions (49 percent to 41 percent), which Trump says are needed to shore up concerns that terrorists could enter as refugees.
“What are the chances that during our four days of recordings, some of the biggest executive orders that would curb the rights of immigrants and refugees in decades are taking place?” Rozman-Clark said.
ANTA
Inside a studio at Intermedia Arts in Minneapolis, 21-year-old Anta Thosaengsiri described moving every few years from a Thai refugee camp to Laos and back.
Her ethnic Hmong grandparents had already resettled as refugees in St. Paul when her father received approval to bring the rest of his family — all except for Thosaengsiri’s two older sisters, who had already turned 21.
“It was very sad,” she said.
Thosaengsiri imagined the United States as “a beautiful place and everything is perfect.” Still, she was reluctant to upend her life once more.
“I didn’t want to do that because every time we moved, I had to take all of my life and (start over) again,” she said.
She’s now in her third year in St. Paul and her last at LEAP. She’s not ready to leave school but is too old to start another year. She’d like to study nursing but doesn’t see how she can afford college.
With no plan for a future in the United States, she thinks she might return to Thailand and work as a nurse in the school she attended as a child. Crime reports in the news have made her fearful of the St. Paul streets. She thinks she’d be safer back home.
“If I can move back to my country, it would be better than here,” she said. “Here, there’s a lot of opportunity but the environment is different. I feel like they don’t really respect you.”
ABSHIR
Born in Somali’s capital city of Mogadishu, Abshir Mohamed was raised by his aunt from age 3, when his mother took refuge in America.
A decade later, as his remaining family fled the war for the safety of Kenya, their caravan got separated and he completed the journey on his own. He lived in Dadaab, the world’s largest refugee camp, until 16, when his mother’s friend helped him secure a visa to join her in St. Paul.
“My mom told me you can have everything here,” he said.
Until then, Mohamed had been hoping to return to Somalia.
A 19-year-old junior at LEAP, Mohamed aspires to work with computers. He said he’d like to stay in America, but would prefer one of the warmer states.
He credits his teachers, especially Hewett-Olatunde, with making him feel welcome here. They’ve taught him the English language and they ask about his problems.
“They are teachers, but they are like our mothers and fathers here,” he said. “Because of the school, I felt I belong here. I feel it’s like my home here.”
