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The silent minorities
Some immigrants, illegal or afraid of causing trouble, avoid rallies.

By TERI SFORZA
The Orange County Register

Asad and Joe haven't been tempted to march in the streets demanding immigration overhaul. Too conspicuous. Too risky. What if a camera caught them? Best not to advertise the fact that you're in America without the proper paperwork. That's just begging for trouble.

"Someone might knock on your door and take you away," said Joe, a 26-year-old from Manila. "It's scary."

Asad, 31, from Afghanistan, lives in a state of constant low-level fear. "It's hard for us to survive," he said.

As the debate about immigration rages, the focus is heavily on people from Mexico. In fact, 56 percent of those in America without papers are from Mexico, according to the Pew Hispanic Center. Twenty-two percent are from South and Central American countries. The rest - 22 percent - are from Canada, Ireland, South Africa, China and many other countries, here without documents or with visas that expired long ago.

People like Asad and Joe.

You haven't seen many of them in the streets. You haven't seen many of them making demands. They see the protesters. Think it would be liberating to make their own views known. But they feel that's just not an option.

Options, when you're here without papers, are one of the first things to go.

It didn't start out this way for these men, whose last names are not being used because they fear deportation.

Joe's grandmother is here legally. When he came about six years ago, he was here legally, too. He had a student visa, took college classes and enjoyed them. But it became a financial strain. International students must be enrolled full time, and 14 credit units at $600 a unit began to hurt.

Joe isn't taking classes any more. He works in the medical-support field, running errands and doing odd jobs. He has applied for a green card, but processing will take about 15 years, lawyers tell him.

So Joe has slipped into the void. He doesn't expect people to feel sorry for him. But he wants them to understand it's not a comfortable place to be.

Joe doesn't earn enough to be independent in expensive Southern California. And even if he could afford an apartment of his own, his lack of credit history and Social Security number doom his application to the reject pile. He has no choice but to live with his family, even though he'll soon be 27 and watches with envy as his friends strike out on their own. He looks at his own life and feels trapped.

In a way, he is. Joe would like to go back to the Philippines. His father, an architect, still lives there. Joe hasn't seen his dad for five years and misses him. But a very stark reality is in play: If Joe leaves America, he most likely won't be allowed back in. At least, not until his green card is processed. And that could take more than a decade.

Stay or go? He loved growing up in Manila. People were friendly. He hung out on beautiful beaches with his friends. Things didn't cost a fortune. In his heart of hearts, he'd prefer to go home - and he once worked up the courage to tell his mom and grandmother.

They wouldn't hear of it. The future is not in the Philippines, they said. The government is trying to quash a communist insurgency and Muslim separatist movement. President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo is being assailed for losing touch with democratic ideals. Earlier this year, Arroyo declared a state of emergency to head off what was thought to be a coup, though some say she just wanted to silence critics.

Who knows what will happen in the Philippines next? Joe's mother and grandmother say. It's better in America. You must stay. Your future is here.

So Joe remains. He figures they're right - and it would be wrong to defy them. But he hates this feeling of being backed into a corner, of having no options.

Someday he wants to go back to college. His dream is to become an architect, like his father. Someday he wants to travel the world. And someday he wants to go back home. It's tough, he said, not having anything of your own. The thing he wants people to understand is that life in this netherworld is hard.

"It's hard when you have goals but you're trapped and can't really do anything about it," Joe said. "I feel like I can offer a lot, but then, I can't do it."

Asad feels much the same way. Trapped. Paralyzed.

He came here in 1989, after the Soviets withdrew from Afghanistan and the country imploded in civil war. He was 13, got "humanitarian parole" status along with his sisters and joined family already here.

In 1997, he asked for an adjustment of status, seeking the ability to work. It took three years before he was called for an interview. Then the government made factual errors in his file - including listing his brother as his father, he said - and denied his application.

"I'm just surviving," Asad said. "I don't work. I'm getting supported by my family. My brothers on the East Coast send me money. I live with my sisters, who are in two different cities in California. I'm here a little, there a little - I have no place of my own."

He's thought about going back to Afghanistan. But he has become a Christian and fears he'd wind up dead if he returned with his newfound faith. He's also considered going to a third country - maybe Mexico - but starting all over again somewhere else carries its own perils.

Asad has hired an immigration attorney, and his case has been reopened. He has hope that everything will clear up and the paperwork will come through this month.

But he's been waiting for six years. "It's frustrating," he said. "And none of it is my fault."

Asad has plans. He wants to spent two more years studying English, until he speaks it perfectly, then wants to pursue a career in computers.

The two men are both keeping their eyes on the debate in Washington, hoping for an immigration overhaul that will clear up their legal problems and let them get back to work on their dreams.

"In the past, immigrants were given a chance to come to this country and start a new life," Joe said, giving an imaginary speech to Congress. "Why not give the ones who've just arrived a chance to start a new life? Just give us a chance."



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