Life Without “Papers” in Florida: An Odyssey for Argentines
It is because the local government has reinforced control over illegal immigrants. It is about a growing tendency in the United States of Republicans to turn up the heat. Now there is more vigilance over places of work, business and freeways.
The Argentine businessman goes flying down the road in a BMW. His American residency is in the bag but he exceeds the speed limit, right past a police officer. The offender admits his fault and asks that the officer give him the ticket. But the story doesn’t end there. “What country are you from?” challenges the officer. “I am an American citizen,” the driver responds. “But you have an accent,” the officer says. “And what does that have to do with it? Your mother was probably and immigrant,” presses the businessman in a threatening manner. The trooper, a highway patrolman, gives up. His mother is Jamaican. The anecdote told to this reporter reflects the hardships in recent weeks from migratory control in Florida, where thousands of Argentines, between cautious and fearful, live in an irregular situation.
The Argentines in Miami generally gather in Little Buenos Aires, on Collins Avenue, which borders the ocean, between 71st and 76th streets. There, the property is usually less expensive and the beach is the most beautiful neighbor of all. On these blocks, the Argentine flag, choripan, empanadas, pastries and tea are common currency and share storefront space with McDonald’s and Mexican and Peruvian businesses. The Buenos Aires Bakery and Cafe hosts a parade of Argentines that enter to share pastries. With the exception of the jar that requests tips on the counter, the whole location is a clone of a Buenos Aires bakery. But in response to a question from a reporter, the people turn suspicious. The Argentines without papers speak, but only when assured that their names will be protected. Others reject doing so and excuse themselves as “very busy.” In general, the interviews are by telephone; it’s better that way. “If they detain you and you don’t have papers, they deport you,” says Leo de Claypole, who has lived in Miami 10 years without papers. Working in construction, Leo admits that it is a serious problem when the Immigration Department assembles a raid on a job. “They came to work and four were picked up.”
What occurs to the Argentines is a reflection in the notable changes in the U.S. immigration policy. The pressure from conservative sectors in the U.S. for Barack Obama’s government to take cues on the issue of illegal immigration has motivated Washington to reinforce controls on foreigners. Examples of this change in tendency are the recent law in Arizona that authorizes the police to detain whomever is suspected of being “without papers,” or the recent proposals of even harsher legislation in Florida.
This initiative is affirmed in the streets of Miami, where the Argentines in this city are perceiving control from federal authorities where before they were not, which obliges them to take bigger precautions in choosing where and when to go.
It is estimated that there are some 40,000 Argentines “without papers” in Florida, according to consulted sources. Many left because of the economic crisis last year. The rest are among the litter of countrymen that threw out anchors in these lands, escaping from the debacle of 2001.
They are working people, employees in construction, hotels and restaurants. They know that caution is the key to remaining. And there is one additional problem: Not having a license to drive in a country where this document serves as a form of identification. “It is complicated to manage. They take you to prison. You run the risk of deportation,” affirms Leo.
Juan, 50 years old, is an upholsterer and said that when his driver’s license expired, “I was afraid. The worst thing is to be left without a license. You have to go everywhere in a car,” he underlines. “The police are stopping people much more in the last month,” he tells Clarín.
Juan was able to renew his license. Now he is more peaceful. “But you have to avoid the police,” he explains. For Ignacio, an Argentine photographer with valid papers, it caught his attention days later to see a Border Patrol van on a corner in Miami by a gardening supply store, in a city where all the gardeners are immigrants.
Emilio Yahni, editor of the newspaper America Hoy (America Today), also admits to having seen Border Patrol vans in places where they had not appeared before. Daniela is licensed in communications in Paraná, but loves Miami. She is the only one that is not worried about her irregular migratory state. “We can go to whatever side and nobody looks at you out of the corner of their eye,” she says. That the electoral climate — the primaries at the boiling point in this southern state and Republican candidates promise a hard hand against illegals to gain votes — has spawned a discourse that has given carte blanche to the police to investigate the migratory status of whomever they wish, doesn’t worry her. When Daniela is asked about the proposal by Bill McCollum, the Republican candidate for governor who wants an even tougher anti-immigration law than that of Arizona, she responds: “He doesn’t have support. They all have a friend or a family member who is an immigrant. Even Obama.”
The Argentine businessman goes flying down the road in a BMW. His American residency is in the bag but he exceeds the speed limit, right past a police officer. The offender admits his fault and asks that the officer give him the ticket. But the story doesn’t end there. “What country are you from?” challenges the officer. “I am an American citizen,” the driver responds. “But you have an accent,” the officer says. “And what does that have to do with it? Your mother was probably and immigrant,” presses the businessman in a threatening manner. The trooper, a highway patrolman, gives up. His mother is Jamaican. The anecdote told to this reporter reflects the hardships in recent weeks from migratory control in Florida, where thousands of Argentines, between cautious and fearful, live in an irregular situation.
The Argentines in Miami generally gather in Little Buenos Aires, on Collins Avenue, which borders the ocean, between 71st and 76th streets. There, the property is usually less expensive and the beach is the most beautiful neighbor of all. On these blocks, the Argentine flag, choripan, empanadas, pastries and tea are common currency and share storefront space with McDonald’s and Mexican and Peruvian businesses. The Buenos Aires Bakery and Cafe hosts a parade of Argentines that enter to share pastries. With the exception of the jar that requests tips on the counter, the whole location is a clone of a Buenos Aires bakery. But in response to a question from a reporter, the people turn suspicious. The Argentines without papers speak, but only when assured that their names will be protected. Others reject doing so and excuse themselves as “very busy.” In general, the interviews are by telephone; it’s better that way. “If they detain you and you don’t have papers, they deport you,” says Leo de Claypole, who has lived in Miami 10 years without papers. Working in construction, Leo admits that it is a serious problem when the Immigration Department assembles a raid on a job. “They came to work and four were picked up.”
What occurs to the Argentines is a reflection in the notable changes in the U.S. immigration policy. The pressure from conservative sectors in the U.S. for Barack Obama’s government to take cues on the issue of illegal immigration has motivated Washington to reinforce controls on foreigners. Examples of this change in tendency are the recent law in Arizona that authorizes the police to detain whomever is suspected of being “without papers,” or the recent proposals of even harsher legislation in Florida.
This initiative is affirmed in the streets of Miami, where the Argentines in this city are perceiving control from federal authorities where before they were not, which obliges them to take bigger precautions in choosing where and when to go.
It is estimated that there are some 40,000 Argentines “without papers” in Florida, according to consulted sources. Many left because of the economic crisis last year. The rest are among the litter of countrymen that threw out anchors in these lands, escaping from the debacle of 2001.
They are working people, employees in construction, hotels and restaurants. They know that caution is the key to remaining. And there is one additional problem: Not having a license to drive in a country where this document serves as a form of identification. “It is complicated to manage. They take you to prison. You run the risk of deportation,” affirms Leo.
Juan, 50 years old, is an upholsterer and said that when his driver’s license expired, “I was afraid. The worst thing is to be left without a license. You have to go everywhere in a car,” he underlines. “The police are stopping people much more in the last month,” he tells Clarín.
Juan was able to renew his license. Now he is more peaceful. “But you have to avoid the police,” he explains. For Ignacio, an Argentine photographer with valid papers, it caught his attention days later to see a Border Patrol van on a corner in Miami by a gardening supply store, in a city where all the gardeners are immigrants.
Emilio Yahni, editor of the newspaper America Hoy (America Today), also admits to having seen Border Patrol vans in places where they had not appeared before. Daniela is licensed in communications in Paraná, but loves Miami. She is the only one that is not worried about her irregular migratory state. “We can go to whatever side and nobody looks at you out of the corner of their eye,” she says. That the electoral climate — the primaries at the boiling point in this southern state and Republican candidates promise a hard hand against illegals to gain votes — has spawned a discourse that has given carte blanche to the police to investigate the migratory status of whomever they wish, doesn’t worry her. When Daniela is asked about the proposal by Bill McCollum, the Republican candidate for governor who wants an even tougher anti-immigration law than that of Arizona, she responds: “He doesn’t have support. They all have a friend or a family member who is an immigrant. Even Obama.”
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