For One Journalist in Exile, the United States is No Refuge
By Ghita Benslimane
New York, NY — It was in 2007 when Iranian security service officials dressed in plain clothing walked into 24-year-old journalist Soheil Asefi’s Tehran apartment and warned him of his possible arrest. They captured video footage of the place, took his computer and files and left without much more having been said.
Asefi, an independent journalist at the time, had been on the country’s security service’s radar for years at this point, as he continued writing about politics for several reformist newspapers despite the widely known risk of arrest. Iran, according to the Committee to Protect Journalists, has one of the highest rates of journalist arrests in the world; by 2009, it ranked 1st in this unfortunate category. And, as a prominent reporter and the son of two political activists, Soheil was very much aware of these dangers.
“I knew what I was doing,” Soheil tells me, as we walk towards the Hudson River in New York City, where he is currently pursuing a master’s degree in political science. But he wouldn’t set his journalistic standards aside, regardless of the potential consequences.
It wasn’t long before Soheil was summoned to court. “My mom and dad were outside the courthouse on the day of the trial, waiting for me to come out, but I was jailed right away,” Soheil said.
On the day of his sentencing, Soheil was accused of publishing lies about the Islamic Republic and sent to Iran’s Evin prison in northwestern Tehran, where he spent approximately three months in late 2007. The prison, built under the reign of the Shah of Iran, Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, is both notorious for its brutal, torturous confines and the number of intellectuals detained in it, earning it the nickname “Evin University.”
As Soheil and I walked along the Hudson river park, I asked if he’d be willing to tell me more about his time in prison, but he preferred not to elaborate. “Let’s just say it was horrible,” he said, mildly fidgeting at the thought, before adding, “I don’t like to go there.”
The state released Soheil on a $500,000 bail, an amount that was later reduced to $100,000 following the media attention Soheil’s case received, placing his family’s Tehran apartment on collateral. But life in Iran after jail-time, Soheil told me, was another jail of sorts. “I couldn’t study. I couldn’t work. That was the main reason I left the country,” he said.
In 2008, Germany’s PEN Center, an international literary and human rights organization, invited Soheil to live in Nuremberg as a writer in exile, where he would be given housing and a monthly stipend for two years.
On the day of his departure from Tehran’s Imam Khomeini International Airport, Soheil had to keep a low profile. Only his parents accompanied him. “When the airplane took off, I was numb,” he said. “I took off knowing that I maybe would not be able to come back.”
Soheil’s time as a writer in exile in Germany was spent trying to find himself and recovering after what had happened. “Despite being a privileged person, it was a difficult time,” Soheil said. I have to admit, I was surprised hearing Soheil describe himself as a privileged person. He had just been through something awful. But to Soheil, it’s all relative. “It’s always a matter of comparison,” he told me. “There are a lot of people who have it worse.”
I was reminded of Soheil’s sense of resilience several times throughout our conversation. When I asked him if he feels like a victim of the Iranian government, Soheil was adamant — the answer was no. “I’ve never, ever, been the victim of any government,” he said, almost angrily. “The word ‘victim’ doesn’t take into consideration my agency. There was a consciousness there,” he said.
After his time with the PEN Center, Soheil obtained political asylum and was granted refugee status; he could work, but finding journalism work in Germany was a challenge given the language barrier. “I tried to find a job, but everything requires a certain level of German language. I tried to build things from scratch, but it didn’t pan out there.” That transition, he said, felt like going from being a guest of the country to an unwanted foreigner, a feeling that has recently resurfaced as he begins the job search process post grad.
In 2015, Soheil was offered a full scholarship to attend the New School to pursue a master’s degree in political science, which he happily accepted. It was not his first time in the United States, however. He had previously attended a conference in Santa Monica in 2009. Now, Soheil says, as a student hoping to stay after graduation, he regrets not having stayed in the United States when he had the chance to, because having been granted political asylum in Germany, there’s now nothing he can do to obtain refugee status in the U.S. And his regret is telling of the many deficiencies of the U.S. immigration system.
Soheil’s F-1 student visa will expire soon, and unless he obtains work sponsorship, he will have to leave the country. As a graduate in the field of political science, however, his chances of obtaining an H-1B work visa after his 1-year OPT (optional practical training) period are slim. According to My Visa Jobs, a popular search engine tool for foreigners looking for visa-eligible role, poli sci-related roles rank low in the number of sponsorships it sees every year.
In fact, a simple glance at My Visa Jobs’ ranking of top-sponsoring industries, established based on government data, can give one a sense of how difficult it is to obtain an H-1B with a degree in a humanities-related field:
Even if political science were a field that generated many sponsorships, the current H-1B application process is not one that sets international students up for success. Each year, United States immigration services (USCIS) runs a random selection to determine which applications will be reviewed. And it is flooded with applications every April. Just last year, USCIS received a record of 236,000 applications. After the random selection, it only reviews 85,000 of these petitions.
“The cap is arbitrary and hasn’t been adjusted in decades,” says immigration attorney and H-1B expert Leslie DiTrani, who adds that “employers need employees. Of course, they’ll turn to Americans first, but if they can’t find Americans for a particular job, they need foreigners to grow their business. It’s not a good economic policy.”
In Soheil’s case, the country’s immigration law when it comes to international students is especially unwelcoming, regardless of a student’s background. If Soheil goes back to Iran, he’ll be jailed again pending a new trial. He could go back to Germany as a political asylee, but the language barrier is a significant one for Soheil, enough to seriously impact his job prospects. Besides, his American education makes him especially well suited for a career here in the United States.
As for the United States’ immigration policy, Soheil says he feels it would be his right to remain in the country if a company wants to hire him. “If I’m selling my labor,” he says, “it should be my right. It should be my basic right to be given the proper documentation to stay.”
While he waits to see what happens, Soheil’s story mirrors that of many atypical international students living in New York City, those with talents and skills that are being overlooked, those barred from making enormous contributions to the country and those who have nowhere else to go.
Note: This story was put together in May 2017. After several months of doing the worst thing a reporter could do (sitting on a story), I’ve finally decided to share it today.
Today, Soheil is in his Optional Practical Training, a form of work authorization reserved for international student graduates. His will last one year, unless he finds an employer to sponsor a work visa on his behalf.
