'Music City' now a haven for refugees, immigrants, but tune may be changing

Web Posted: 04/13/2008 11:17 PM CDT

Hernán Rozemberg
Express-News

NASHVILLE, Tenn. — MartÃ*n followed his brother's path four years ago, uprooting himself from bustling Atlanta in search of a smaller, quieter city that welcomed Mexican immigrants such as himself with jobs, even if they were in the country illegally.
A decade earlier, Hami Hasan also made his way here, taken in by the U.S. government as a political refugee after Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein annihilated his hometown in the Kurdish region of the country.

Nashville, widely known as the cradle of country music, has undergone a dramatic demographic transformation over the past two decades.

Though staying under the national immigration radar, it has seen a burgeoning refugee population and now has the largest Kurdish community in the country, paralleled by a steady influx of unauthorized immigrants.

Most of the undocumented newcomers are from Mexico but most arrived from other states, lured by word of a better place to live and work.

"Nashville has become a new destination city," said Dan Cornfield, a sociologist at Vanderbilt University who spearheaded a city-funded study of the effect of immigration on "Music City."

The city's foreign-born population — legal and unauthorized immigrants combined — has skyrocketed, from 12,000 in 1990 to 60,000 in 2006. Nashville is about the size of El Paso, with about 600,000 people.

There's no definitive count of the undocumented immigrant population in the city, but a 2005 report by the Pew Hispanic Center estimated between 100,000 and 150,000 in Tennessee.

Nashville's refugee count stands at more than 10,000 resettled by the State Department since 1997, though unofficially that population is much higher because the city's welcoming reputation has spread throughout the United States, drawing thousands of refugees who first settled in other cities.

'The place to be'


This "second migrant" factor has ushered a boom in Nashville's Kurdish population, mostly Iraqis who fled Saddam's government in waves starting in the mid-1970s. Experts estimate the city is home to 7,000 to 8,000 Kurds.

"For Kurds, Nashville is the place to be," said Sarwar Hawez, 47, an Iraqi Kurd brought here in 1997 who helps new arrivals through his work at Catholic Charities, one of two local agencies contracted by the government to help refugees start new lives.

Many foreign newcomers still find Nashville more open to them than other U.S. cities polarized by immigration controversies — but the honeymoon seems to be coming to an abrupt end.

As with other cities, those who come to this country illegally tend to gain the spotlight during rough economic times, when outsiders are targeted as the cause of growing unemployment. Nashville is not feeling as sharp a pinch as other cities, but tensions have been mounting.

Last year, the local sheriff reached an agreement with the federal government to train 15 deputies solely assigned to identify and process arrested undocumented immigrants.

The program has paid off, Davidson County Sheriff Daron Hall said. Nearly 3,000 immigrants have been sent packing.

Though highly controversial and derided by immigrant advocates, the collaboration was welcomed as a positive development for anti-illegal-immigration activists who believe Nashville's cultural identity is threatened by too many new faces in town.

"We don't know who these people are, why they're coming here and even what diseases they may be bringing in," said James Carter, a lifelong Nashville resident who leads the Minutemen of Tennessee, formed three years ago and now claiming 250 members.

For some, such talk is reminiscent of a hate-filled vernacular from decades ago that led to the creation of his agency, said Kelvin Jones, director of Nashville's human relations commission.

Founded in 1965, during the tumultuous Civil Rights Movement, the commission is now working toward bringing all stakeholders to the table to prevent an all-out war over immigration.

"In a way, it's like having a new Wal-Mart open up in your neighborhood," Jones said. "People love those cheap prices, but they don't like all the mom-and-pop stores having to close."

Shopkeepers, refugees


In Nashville, it's the opening of places such as Super Mercado Latino, Coco Loco restaurant or Salón de Belleza Internacional that's sparking animosity.

Many such startups line one of the city's main drags, Nolensville Road, having taken over boarded-up shops.

One is the Cyber Café, opened four years ago by Gerardo Mendoza. The Mexico City native has lived in Nashville for 14 years — and can't remember a single Hispanic-owned shop when he moved here. He considers it a much better place for immigrants than Houston, where he previously lived.

"Now that there's lots of us, they don't want us here anymore," said Mendoza, 34. "But I don't think it's racism as much as wanting things done right. If you follow the law and learn English, you're fine."

Richard Bain would agree, except that in his line of work he's coming across more and more immigrants breaking the law.

The 18-year veteran police officer, currently assigned to patrol immigrant-heavy south Nashville, tries to remain reasonable as a go-between for longtime residents and newcomers.

He understands how hard it is for Anglos to fathom the new culture immigrants bring. He also knows immigrants live and work here and he's responsible for their safety.

Feeling safe is by far the main goal for political refugees. They don't need to worry about legal status — they can apply for permanent residency after one year in the country and for U.S. citizenship after five.

But they still face a litany of socio-economic challenges.

Having bounced around internationally after her family was booted out of Saudi Arabia because her Yemeni government didn't support the U.S. invasion of Iraq, Thana Numan thought she had at least found a comfortable spot in Dearborn, Mich., the country's largest Muslim enclave.

Then her father, a chemist, was transferred to Nashville. Though at first apprehensive of her new hometown with a much less visible Muslim community, Nashville grew on her.

"It wasn't easy, especially after 9-11," said Numan, a high school senior and coordinator of Young Muslims in Nashville. "But this place has become a lot more diverse and understanding in my eight years here."

The increasing diversity includes African refugees escaping political strife back home. Like Hawez with his fellow Kurds, Salaad Nur assists new arrivals from his native Somalia.

Not many people can say their objective is to be out of a job, yet that's what Nur is trying to do. As deputy director of the Somali Community Center of Nashville, he hopes the city's estimated 5,000 Somalis eventually will no longer need his services.

Though culture shock is unavoidable, their top obstacle is economic mobility — many settle in rough areas with cheap housing and have a hard time moving up, Nur said.

The economic downturn and its backlash won't make their lives any easier. But illegal or not, the newcomers believe they have found a permanent alternative in Nashville.

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