by Jeb Bush
Even though many generalizations can be made about immigrants, there is no typical immigration story. Among millions of immigrants there are an equal number of individual stories. And those stories impact millions of others.
Here are seven short stories of immigrants and the lives that have been touched by them that illustrate the impact immigrants have on America today.
THE EDUCATION REFORMER
Nina Shokraii Rees was born in 1968 in Tehran, Iran.3 Her father was the head of the biology department for Tehran University, and her mother worked for Iran Airlines. They led a tranquil life until the shah was overthrown in 1979 and replaced by the current theocratic regime. The Shokraii family hoped that the regime change was temporary, even as some of her father’s colleagues were killed or disappeared.
Nina’s French international school was shut down. She went instead to a neighborhood public school where girls were segregated from boys and every subject was connected to Islam. Life changed for everyone, especially girls and women, who now had to cover themselves. The regime “discouraged any manifestation of personality or beauty,” Nina recalls.
Every Friday, Nina would go on a ski trip. The bus ride was the only time girls could associate with boys. Once on the slopes, the sexes were segregated again, and the girls had to ski fully covered. Nina had heard of many women and girls being arrested for not being sufficiently covered but didn’t think it would happen to her. One time she skied down a slope and her jacket didn’t cover her knees. A twelve-year-old Nina and several others were arrested.
The experience was harrowing. Nina’s parents had no idea she was in jail. She wasn’t even allowed to call them. She had no idea where she was and no one told her what to expect. After three days, Nina was interrogated and released. “That was what prompted the exit” of her family from Iran, she says.
The family moved first to France. But eventually her father, who had studied at the University of Florida and the University of North Carolina as a Fulbright Scholar, was offered a position at Virginia Tech. But he had to start from scratch in an entry-level teaching position in the biology department.
For Nina, the transition was difficult. English was her third language. And although Blacksburg, Virginia, was a college town, it also was extremely rural. She was only one of two foreign students in her high school—“everyone else,” Nina says, “was native-born American and many had never ventured beyond southwest Virginia.” And many didn’t take kindly to an Iranian girl in their midst during the hostage crisis. One student vandalized her locker with acid.
She finished high school as quickly as possible, and despite not yet having fully mastered English, was admitted to Virginia Tech, largely on the basis of acing the Advanced Placement (AP) exam in French. “I got mired in the freedom of college and the love of learning,” Nina remembers. “But I used the opportunity to assimilate more than learn.”
After college, “I didn’t know what I wanted to do except to move out of Blacksburg,” Nina says. She moved with a friend to Washington, D.C., where she worked in the suburbs at Neiman-Marcus. There a customer urged her to try for a job on Capitol Hill. Since moving to America, she was very interested in political science and civics since “the system here is so much more rational than Iran’s.” She placed her résumé in every congressional mailbox and got a volunteer job interning twice weekly for Senator John Warner of Virginia. From there she was hired as a staff assistant for Representative Porter Goss of Florida. Meanwhile, she earned a master’s degree at George Mason University. There she developed what she describes as conservative views. Life in Iran had taught her that “people should be able to make decisions on their own, and government shouldn’t be so centralized.”
Nina took a position at Americans for Tax Reform, where she discovered her passion for education policy while working on an unsuccessful California school voucher initiative. She met leading education reformers such as Arizona legislator Lisa Graham Keegan and Jersey City, New Jersey, mayor Bret Schundler. “Something about that issue really resonated with me,” Nina explains. “It’s so simple. If you’re four years old and you don’t have access to a good school, you’re out of luck.”
After working on school choice at the Institute for Justice, Nina was hired by Secretary of Education Rod Paige in 2002 to help lead a new office for educational innovation and improvement. After leaving in 2006, she became a senior vice president at Knowledge Universe, a for-profit company focused on early childhood education and online learning. In 2012, she was hired as president and CEO of the National Alliance for Public Charter Schools. Her goal is “making sure every child has access to a high-quality education regardless of where they live or their economic circumstances.”
Nina says her experiences in Iran have “everything to do with the way I approach my work and life.” She identifies with children who face educational challenges, knowing that so many are unable to take advantage of opportunities. She is determined to give kids more choices and to free the educational system to allow greater innovation. “We talk about these things in terms of ideas and policies,” Nina reflects, “but through school choice you can make an immediate difference in a child’s life.”
Nina applied for citizenship when she was twenty-one, and the process seemed to take forever. “Every time I went into the immigration office I felt like I was in a third-world country, like I was back in Iran.” The system was bureaucratic, impersonal, and inefficient. She laments that many who try to navigate the system lack the resources she had.
But she bristles at the notion that the American Dream should be retired. “I wake up every day believing” in the dream, she declares. Had she remained in Iran or even France, Nina is certain she would never have had the opportunities she has had here. “If you have the drive and desire to make it, there is nothing that can stop you.”
“That’s exactly why you need more immigrants!” Nina exclaims. “They’re the ones who believe in the American Dream. Many Americans take it for granted.”
Nina Shokraii Rees never will take it for granted. And with her passion and determination, she will make her adopted nation one where many more children’s dreams can become a reality through expanded educational opportunities.
THE WAYWARD AMERICAN
If all you knew was her name—Laura Osio Khosrowshahi—you might assume that her long struggle to attain American citizenship must have something to do with Middle Eastern origins. And indeed there are a large number of such stories. But in fact Laura’s story is the far more remarkable one of a young woman whose family has lived in America nearly as long as it has been a nation—and whose struggle is to regain her American roots. It is a classic yet perverse story of a truly dysfunctional American immigration system.4
The Osio family first settled in Mexico when it was still New Spain. Some of the family members emigrated to California in the late 1700s and lived there when it was acquired by the United States. The Osios freely traveled back and forth between California and Mexico, and the family was truly binational.
Laura’s father was a United States citizen born in Denver. By then the family was physically divided by immigration laws. Laura’s paternal grandmother wanted to raise her family in a Catholic country, so they moved to Mexico when Laura’s father was seven. Because American law didn’t permit dual citizenship, he renounced his U.S. citizenship when he turned eighteen, but he later reclaimed it when the law was changed to allow it. Like his forebears, Laura’s father had roots in both Mexico and the United States. He owned a home in Los Angeles, and as Laura remembers, “he never failed to say he was born in Denver.” Laura’s mother was a Mexican citizen.
Laura was born in Mexico but spent every Easter, Christmas, and summer in the United States starting when she was three months old. She was bilingual from the beginning. From as early as she can remember, Laura was “obsessed with the Constitution,” and the type of free government it established. “It treated the individual with so much dignity and respect. It
allowed the individual to attain his full potential. It said so much in so few words,” Laura explains. “As a Mexican, I was always aware of the fact that if I was arrested, I would be presumed guilty until proven innocent. With the U.S. Constitution, it was completely the opposite.”
Laura moved to the United States for college, graduating from the University of Miami in 2000. She pursued graduate work at the London School of Economics, then moved to California to work for her aunt’s company. By then her parents had moved to Arizona, and Laura moved there, too. Her dad became ill with cancer and died in 2005. He asked Laura to stay in Arizona with her mother. During that time, she pursued her passion for the Constitution through internships with the American Civil Liberties Union, the Alliance for School Choice, and the Goldwater Institute.
But immigration issues interceded. Laura was not automatically eligible for citizenship by virtue of her father’s citizenship. She was, however, eligible for a family preference—but that preference died with her father. More than half a decade later, Laura says the experience is “still incredibly raw for me. I asked my mother, do they think he is no longer my father because he is dead?”
Laura became worried about overstaying her visa. She tried to obtain an H-1B visa to work at a communications firm but the quota was exhausted. She instead obtained a student visa to pursue a master’s degree, first at Arizona State University and then at George Washington University. From there she took a position with the Cato Institute, which obtained an H-1B visa for her. Since 2009 she has worked as a senior communications specialist with the International Foundation for Electoral Systems.
Ironically, Laura finally moved onto a path to citizenship through the son of an immigrant when she married Cameron Khosrowshahi in 2010. Cameron’s mother was born in the Bronx and his father emigrated from Iran and became an American citizen. Laura now has a green card and eventually will be able to apply for American citizenship.
“The process can be cumbersome and frustrating,” Laura says with understatement. “I cannot wait to get my citizenship. I am already writing my speech on the U.S. Constitution. I will tell my fellow immigrants that they are lucky to be here.”
Even more than that, Laura explains, “I want my children to be American. I want them to have the perspective of Americans,” of a people who have no sense of entitlement. “It’s different from Mexico and Europe in that people are equal.” In America there is no class stratification, and anyone can get ahead with hard work and talent. “It is a country that opens doors,” Laura declares emphatically.
It is a shame that someone like Laura Osio Khosrowshahi had to pry those doors open. Our immigration policies should make it easier for high-skilled, hardworking immigrants to become U.S. citizens. Laura’s talent, hard work, and passion for American ideals will make her a valued citizen. It is not her American roots or the status of citizenship but her American mind-set that will make her so. We are fortunate that Laura and others like her remain determined to join the American family, despite the frustrating obstacles placed in their paths.
THE DREAMERS
When President Obama issued his deferred-action policy, hundreds of thousands of young people who were brought illegally into the United States became eligible to remain lawfully. For the first time those young people were able to take a tenuous step toward the only status many of them have ever known: Americans.
For Dulce Vazquez, twenty-one, and her sister, Bibiana, nineteen, who were profiled by the Arizona Republic, the policy was a dream come true. Instantly they began preparing the paperwork and documentation necessary to stay in the country legally and obtain work permits.5
The girls were brought to the United States from Mexico by their parents when they were one and three. Their father had lost his job in Mexico and found work in the United States. He regularly crossed the border to rejoin his family and then to return for work to the United States, but over time the crossings became more difficult. He and his wife decided their only alternative was to move the whole family to America.
Although Dulce knew little English when she started kindergarten, both girls ultimately excelled in school. Bibiana graduated in the top 1 percent of her class. Dulce was in student government and the National Honor Society, and a marketing presentation earned her recognition in a statewide competition by the Future Business Leaders of America.
Both girls enrolled at a local college, but because of their undocumented status they do not qualify for in-state tuition. The expense forces them to be careful with course selection. “You don’t have the luxury or liberty of ‘That’s okay, I’m going to drop that class,’ ” says Bibiana. “Because every penny counts when the money is coming from your own pocket.” Ironically, the girls’ younger brother will be able to qualify for in-state tuition because he was born in the United States.
Although the girls cannot vote because they are not citizens, they became politically active, attending DREAM Act rallies and registering voters. Eventually their hopes were realized when President Obama announced his deferred-action policy. Even though the policy does not confer permanent legal status, it will enable Dulce and Bibiana to obtain work permits, which they eagerly desire. “A door opened for them,” says their mother, “so now they can pursue their dreams and come out of the shadows.”
Of course, Dulce and Bibiana are far from alone in their hopes. On August 15, 2012, the first day on which applications were available, tens of thousands of young people who were born outside the United States began applying for deferred-action status and the chance to work legally. In Chicago, sixteen-year-old Nayeli Manzano planned to leave with her parents at around 4:30 a.m. to be one of the first in line to apply at the Navy Pier.6 But a friend called at around midnight to tell her a large crowd already was arriving. So Nayeli left right away. “This is my chance, I’m not going to let it go,” she declared. The following month, Benita Veliz, a fellow DREAMer who had been brought from Mexico to San Antonio, Texas, at age eight, became the first undocumented immigrant to address the Democratic National Convention.7 “I almost felt redeemed for all of those years and all of those moments when I wanted to give up on my dream,” the former high school valedictorian reflected after the event. “Tonight was just a reminder that in America our dreams really do come true.”
Although the future for DREAMers under the deferred-action policy is far from certain, Dulce and Bibiana Vazquez hope it is a step toward permanency and stability. “We’re going to look back at this time and think, ‘Man, we went through a lot and still made it,’ ” says Bibiana. “I’ll tell my kids about it and I’ll be like, you can’t tell me you can’t wash those dishes. Let me tell you what I did.”
If we can develop an immigration policy that recognizes just how truly American young people like the Vazquez sisters already are, one day Bibiana indeed will be able to tell her children how precious it is to be Americans.
THE TEACHER
Annette Poppleton was born in England to a farm family. She worked her way to a college scholarship and became a teacher, her profession now for more than forty years. “I love teaching,” she says with passion. “Wouldn’t change it for the world.”8
In 1988, Annette and her husband brought their children on vacation from England to see Mickey Mouse in Orlando, Florida, for a three-week vacation. As devout Christians, they found a local church to attend. When local parishioners learned that Annette worked well with problem children, they encouraged them to move to the United States. They decided to do so. “We thought it would be nice and easy,” recounts Annette, “but it wasn’t.”
Indeed, the past twenty-four years have been more of a nightmare, the kind of nightmare encountered by many immigrants. The system is so complex that it is impossible to navigate without a lawyer. There are many good and conscientious immigration lawyers—and many bad ones.
Annette was advised by an attorney that she could work pending immigration approval. She found work as a teacher in a Christian school. Her husband had to
return to England to attend his ill mother but was not permitted to return, “indefinitely pending tribunal.” Their lawyer failed to appear at the hearing. Eventually they were removed from the United States.
But still they were not deterred. The couple returned as visitors. This time they found a responsible lawyer who secured a special visa for them as pastors. In 2000, they opened their own school associated with the church they were pastoring, and in 2002 Annette became its principal. The school started with six students and has grown to sixty, employing six teachers. Three-quarters of the children are special-education students, ranging from autism to partial blindness to learning disabilities.
Annette characterizes the school’s impact on its students as “miraculous.” She describes one boy who was expelled from public school kindergarten because of frequent meltdowns and in four years “has gone from totally unable to learn to becoming a learner.” The school has special success with autistic students, helping them achieve dramatic academic progress.
Unfortunately, the attorney who had secured visas for Annette and her husband died. They found a new attorney, who applied to renew their visa, but the renewal was denied. Apparently Annette and her husband were eligible to apply for green cards but no one told them that. Altogether, Annette and her husband have spent more than thirty thousand dollars on attorney fees, which was extremely difficult because of their meager salaries. The money was for naught as Annette was forced to return to England in late 2012. “I don’t have anything in England,” Annette laments. “My school is my life. My life is my school.”
“I have sixty children who need me, and I have teachers who need me,” Annette adds. “They need me to be their backbone.” She hopes somehow to return as quickly as possible. “America has not made me rich, but it has made me wise,” Annette says. “I still believe in this country.”