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Reeta Sinha

How blind can we be?

It seems that every time you turn around, there's another feature on the successful Indian abroad. If we're not making millions, we're making movies; if we're not writing the next bestseller, we're dating someone who might. We keep our nose to the grindstone, perform admirably in almost every field and, for the most part, do very little to rock that proverbial boat. And that's the problem.

Had there been a boat, the US Coast Guard might have mistaken us for Cubans or Haitians. Then, perhaps, we would have made our own grand entrance in to this land of "justice and liberty for all." The irony of it, if you're a "fresh off the boat" Indian who enters this country legally (on a plane), you become the good child who shall be seen but not heard. But, take a boat or swim to shore and you instantly become a poster-child for America's democratic values.

No matter how the family drama plays out, Elian Gonzalez, the Cuban boy found floating off the Florida coast, will most likely be granted permanent residency in the US. To be sure, federal authorities have been trying to send the boy back, according to policy: if you enter the US illegally by sea and make it to land, you can stay (but, only if you're Cuban); if you're found in the water (like Elian), you must go back home. But, when you have a community of immigrants ready to speak up on your behalf, we now know that even INS rules can be bent. Add to these voices a presidential candidate or two who say special legislation is needed to give the boy his day in court, and Elian is home free.

So, why should this matter to Indians? Well for one thing, Elian will be escorted to the head of the US Green Card Line, a line that thousands of Indians and their families have been standing in for years. These are permanent residents or temporary workers here on H-1B visas who entered the US legally. For another thing, adding insult to injury, Elian's father in Cuba, along with some friends and relatives, have been given visas to visit the US. If only it were so easy for our friends and family in India.

And what have we heard from Indian voices? Nothing. Which translates to, "Pehle aap." "No, please, you go first."

So far, there has been little reaction (let alone protest) from Indians in the US. We bask in the glory of those that make it into the spotlight. We wear their success as if it were our own. But, when it really matters, when a few (or many) of our own face discrimination, when unfair policies or practices affect someone in our community, we remain strangely silent.

On the other hand, a very vocal minority has garnered the attention of this country for the past four months and their efforts will no doubt be rewarded soon. How fair is it to give this boy preference over thousands of Indians who have been waiting up to three years for their families to be reunited? Why is Elian more important than Indian high-tech workers who are trapped in H-1B hell as the INS green card backlog grows?

If anyone deserves special preference it is Indians. Here is a group that does not drain the country's social services; we contribute productively to the US economy. Furthermore, based on the track record of previous generations, we are legal immigrants whose children have the potential to emerge as stars, no matter what they do, at the local, national, and even international level (Sixth Sense, need I say more?). And, given the number of Indian software engineers here on H-1B visas, it may not be too far-fetched to say that, thanks to us, the US was snatched from the clutches of the Y2K monster. Yet the families of these scientists, teachers, and entrepreneurs-of those who have the "right" stuff-are denied the right to live under one roof. Still we, Indians, say nothing.

It's not that we don't have it in us to speak up, to get what we want. Indians in this country go to the extremes when it comes to activism and this has hurt us in the long run. Either, in our rush to be accepted by Americans, we go for the attention-getting umbrella causes (read, lights-camera-action!). Or, in order to one-up the next guy, we look out only for our self (we don't just keep up with the Joneses, we make them eat our dust).

Take, for example, a recent protest held in New York City. South Asians (that's Asian Indians and Other Asians, as the US Census Bureau defines) joined other minorities to protest a rash of police shootings. Now, perhaps this is a highly relevant local problem-non-white people are being shot and killed by the NYPD, so solidarity is important. Maybe. Or, maybe it was a chance to show anyone who was watching that Indians can protest too.

According to a report on the rally in Newsday, it was solidarity. "We must stand in solidarity with our black brothers and sisters," said a participant. Really? I wonder if Mexicans here, who see other Mexicans sent back routinely across the border, feel the same way about their Cuban brothers and sisters these days. As Indians leap to stand up for others, do they ask themselves if an African-American organization or a Haitian group would join them when an Indian is shot or hauled off to jail? I don't think so.

I don't recall too many protest marches by the Hispanic community in Texas when the INS rounded up Indian software engineers. Nor were there African-American people rallying (or even Indian) when sheriffs shot an Indian shop owner in Mississippi. Yet, there we were in New York, ready to be counted as activists with brown skin. Maybe "united we stand" is appropriate under some circumstances, but what have Indians truly done over the decades to help fight the injustices done to members of their own community? How do we think that we are even qualified to lend our voice to others? And what will we demand from our brown brothers and sisters in return?

At the other extreme is our tunnel vision -- we see only what suits our purpose. This is compounded by the development of sudden amnesia. We take care of what ails us and move on. To feel relieved that we have made it to the other side is natural; to say "it's not my problem" to another in the same situation is called "rubbing it in your face." It's a disease we bring with us from the homeland.

Take the example of this waiting period for the families of permanent residents. Once reunited, their ordeal is over. Now, maybe these people don't visibly gloat when they make it to the front of the line. But, to pretend we don't see the others is not much different. How blind can we be? Who among us doesn't know someone who can't leave the US to visit home, who can't change jobs, who has no idea what the INS did with their paperwork? We work and play with these people, we even hire other Indians who go through the same tortuous process. We have had thirty years in this country to say something, yet despite our resources, our own experiences, we have said very little.

What could we be saying? "Never again" for starters. Or, we could say for many, what a few managed to say for themselves; the special legislation proposed for Elian is nothing new. Over the years, many Indians have successfully petitioned their state representatives to give their individual situation preferential treatment, bypassing other Indians in line. Yet, as a group, rarely have we spoken up for other Indians. I dare say that few other immigrant communities have been affected as much as we have. But, when the wait for spousal green cards grew from months to years in the 1980s, we quietly accepted it, for the most part.

We said nothing when it went to over 10 years for Indian siblings of US citizens. Then, with the demand for skilled workers, we were content that some of us (and our spouses) got our foot in the door. Now, as Congress debates whether to raise the H-1B cap, those already in line for a green card are being ignored again (in California, some have been waiting since 1996). Maybe we should be supporting a proposal of the Immigration Reform Coalition instead: issue conditional green cards to those here already on H-1B visas. This may not make much of dent in the INS backlog, now over 900,000 strong, but it would be a start.

Indians in the US belong to scores of social and professional organizations -- we see the acronyms everywhere. Be it AAPI, TANA, NetIP or others, each and every member of these groups knows what the green card waiting game is all about. When we gather this summer, as most of us do each year, why not shoot for something different? Instead of focusing on how to get our children married to other Indians or hosting movie stars, let's raise our collective voices in protest and demand that the immigration laws of the United States be reformed.

But, if we can't, not to worry. Once Elian has his green card, maybe we can ask the Cuban-American community to stand up for their Indian brothers and sisters.

Reeta Sinha, a librarian at the Hoover Institution, Stanford University, is on sulekha.com's editorial team. This is her first column for rediff.com

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