A line of palm trees traces the white concrete walkway leading up to the U.S. Consulate in Lagos, Nigeria. Above the doors, the seal of the United States is set in the middle of tall white walls, speckled with glass windows. Passports to a new life await, guarded inside.
At 5:30 a.m. on July 5, 2013, Sarah’s mom woke her up. She dressed for the day, and as she has done several times over the preceding year, and headed for the consulate building. Sarah was 16, and stood alone in the line outside the gates. It was 7 a.m. At 9 a.m. her fate would be decided.
The woman standing in front of her tells her a story of trying to get her entire family into the United States. Some people in this line had spent their entire life savings trying to get a visa to the United States. She told her story to those around her, but is thinking “who’s going to get a visa today?”
For the last year, she has been studying for the American SAT in Lagos, her hometown, through a program that trained and advised prospective students for a college education in the United States. After skipping the sixth grade, she graduated early from high-school and readied herself for college at a time that most American teenagers are learning to drive.
Her mother, a pharmacist with a PhD who was working for the Nigerian government, and her father, a former world banker with an MBA who was working in construction, have encouraged her and her two brothers to actively and aggressively pursue education in the United States. As world travelers themselves, they understand what prospects awaited their children in Nigeria. They knew how hard it was to navigate the corrupt government and an unequal system that makes it hard to live a comfortable life.
In the first line, a consulate officer checked her paperwork. It was just after 8 a.m. She made it through the line and to the next one. Rumor was, if you caught the consulate officers early in the morning, when they were the happiest, your chances would be better.
She approached the security line. This is the one that made everyone nervous. American embassy security is tight. She walked to the front of the line, preparing to leave all her belongings behind because nothing was allowed past that point. The security guard looks at her. “Oh, hey! You’re back.” he said. People in line wondered who she is and how this security guard knows her. She’s a bit embarrassed, but the innocuous hello from the guard floods her with confidence and calms her nerves. She thought, “these are my people. This is my place. I can do this.”
Inside the final room, she took her seat and began going through the questions and answers in her head like memorizing the answers to a quiz before a test. In the silence, a microphone broke with the voice of a consulate officer, “No. Go reapply.” Then silence. Then another person in line before her was called to a window. She goes back over the questions in her head.
Finally, the first question comes: “What is your name?” Nervous, she stammered, “Sarah Momodu.,” nearly forgetting her own name. A barrage of questions follow about her purpose in the United States. She was ready for them.
Friends told her if it’s a short interview, that is good. If they keep asking questions, they are questioning your motives and intention. Sarah was warned that the interview must be conducted as if the student is only concerned with going to school and then returning to their native country. If they show hope of staying in the United States, their chances of earning a student visa narrow.
Then the consulate officer asked her, “Why do you want to go to this school?” Sarah isn’t sure what she said, or if it was what she was supposed to say. But she thinks she answered, “It’s a nice school. I will do well there.” The consulate officer says, “Fine. Go pick up your visa over there.” Sarah took a deep breath. She had succeeded.
*
Seven years later, in early November, the clock is ticking on Sarah’s American dream and in the background a very important election looms. She shifts nervously in her chair inside an unused building on the campus of Savannah State University. She’s wearing a black and white striped long-sleeve shirt covered by a gray sweater. She periodically wraps herself deep inside the sweater. Her black tights end just before her ankle, exposing a sliver of skin above slip-on Vans.
Her long braids have splashes of red and silver in them. Her airy, light-hearted disposition is complemented by a heart-warming smile. She’s sometimes sarcastic, always smart and obviously ambitious as she talks about her life, only her lilting Nigerian accent identifies her as having not grown up in America.
At the end of November, she will graduate from Savannah State University—the oldest Historically Black College (HBCU) in Georgia—with a Masters of Business Administration and a 4.0 GPA. She has been in the United States for nearly a decade on an F-1 status student visa.
For the second time, she is planning on obtaining an Optional Practical Training (OPT) permit, giving her around a year to work in the United States. This month, she is searching for a job and an employer who requires the degree she has and who will sponsor her in the lottery for an H-1B visa. Once her OPT expires, the employer can put her name in the H-1B lottery in March. There’s a 30% chance she will be picked at random. If chosen, there’s a 70% chance she will be approved for a Green Card, which allows for a three to six year work visa.
Before she can be approved for the Green Card, her employer must have completed a labor certification process, which typically takes around two years. The process is used to determine if there are no U.S. workers that can do the job she can, and that the employer can provide the necessary salary. If they pass, the business can sponsor her for a Green Card. Then she waits in line. Since she’s not from India or China, the line will be shorter. If she gets her Green Card, she will wait five more years to file for full citizenship. Her immigration status over the last six years has never been rendered illegal. She’s never lied on an application, or taken easier, illegal routes to staying in the U.S.
Through her teen years she filled out hundreds of pages of documents, applications, and bureaucratic forms, and conducted an avalanche of interviews with officers, university administrators, and official persons who time and again have held the prospects of her future and her life in their hands.
*
On January 7, 1903, Wolf-Lieb stood in a similar line on Ellis Island. Abandoning his small ancestral village of Antopol, where anti-Jewish violence and forced conscription wrecked his life, he came to America in pursuit of a better life. He spoke Yiddish, Russian and Polish. He was a refuge from what would later be the country of Belarus. Alone on Ellis Island, he stood in lines and waited in rooms alongside families of immigrants speaking languages he didn’t understand, undoubtedly thinking of the family he left behind.
First he passed through the Detention Room, where he was asked if he needed anything at this moment. A surgeon from the marine hospital inspected him . They checked his eyes, looking for obvious illness and contagious skin-diseases. Through the Railway and Refreshment room he was helped by a special officer to buy a ticket, send a telegram, buy refreshments or exchange the $8 in his pocket.
Through the inspector’s table, he was asked: What is your name? How old are you? Where did you live before coming here? Who paid your passage? Where are you going? Have you a ticket? What is your business? How much money have you? Can you read and write? Were you ever in a prison or an almshouse? Are you under a labor-contract? Who is to meet you here?
Wolf-Lieb was checked “O.K. for New York” and sent along to assimilate into the other 77,000,000 Americans.
In 1903, the U.S. Commissioner for Immigration wrote in a report: “I believe that at least 200,000 (and probably more) aliens came here who, although they may be able to earn a living, yet are not wanted, will be of no benefit to the country, and will, on the contrary, be a detriment…”
*
Inside an empty doctor’s office at Candler, in April 2019, Sarah took a break from her internship at St. Joseph’s/Candler Hospital in Savannah, Georgia, her first round of OPT. She texted with her mom after being accepted for post-graduate work at Emory, Drexel and Vanderbilt. In her head, she was preparing for the fall semester at one of the universities.
“The year before I came to the U.S. I didn’t know what I wanted to become,” Sarah recalls. “In Nigeria, we were trained to think there were only four types of people that go to school. Like, you only have four majors. You’re a doctor, a lawyer, or you’re an engineer, or you’re something else in the medical field, a nurse, or a pharmacist.
That was all we knew. Those were the only people that existed. I thought I would try computers. I didn’t have a clear path. I knew I wanted to move to the U.S. I was done with Nigeria and the corruption.”
While a student at the University of North Carolina Greensboro, she discovered a path forward, similar to an aunt and a brother, that includes a master’s degree in epidemiology from Emory and full citizenship.
Through text message, she told her mom that she received a nice scholarship from Drexel University and so that seemed to be the best route for her. There was only about $30,000 left in fees to cover her degree program, a modest amount considering the past undergraduate fees her parents have paid. It’s a standard conversation she’s had with her parents over the last four years. When she needs fees covered, she calls or texts them. Sometimes, her father calls her and asks if she needs any money.
But her mom doesn’t reply to the texts. Puzzled, she waits in the empty room, wondering why her mother wasn’t responding. Finally, her phone lights up. Her mother congratulates her on the scholarship but adds a caveat, they won’t be able to cover the tuition this time. Sarah’s heart dropped. She sat alone in the room, breathless. Sarah had no indication of problems at home.
Despite their good jobs in Nigeria, the enormous costs of funding not one, but two international students in America has taken its toll. For just Sarah, it has cost around $160,000 for her parents. When exchanged into the Nigerian Naira, that number inflates to more than $61,000,000. Her parents barely have any money left for themselves.
They have hid the strain and stress from their children in America. After working so hard in undergrad and holding full-time jobs for the first time in her life, she understands the kind of tired her mom sounds on the phone.
Sarah was unable to enroll at Emory, Drexel, or Vanderbilt. Student loans were not an option and the remaining fees were too high. Her OPT clock began ticking louder in her head. She panicked.
Sarah doesn’t remember much of her life from April to August in 2019. She started calling everyone she knew. She applied to several other colleges, in the hopes someone would accept her and offer a full scholarship.
The University of North Carolina Greensboro tried to help her, but without funding, they couldn’t. Her grandmother reveals that the strain on her parents has been harder than they’ve let on. It’s hurting their marriage. Her grandmother tells her, “No. Don’t try to fight this. Your best bet is to pray that some miraculous thing happens so you don’t go back.”
At work, she was unfocused. The OPT expiration was ticking louder and louder with each passing week and month and with each opportunity slipping through her fingers. After work, she would go home and cry herself to sleep. The stress pumped through her like jet fuel. She would wake up, cry a little, and then go to work. July 1 came and her OPT expired. Her mom called her and told her to come home.
They hung up and her mom immediately sent her a link for a ticket back to Nigeria. Sarah looked at the ticket on her phone and a rush of emotions flooded over her. She felt like she was giving up.
In late July, Sarah got a phone call from a family friend, Jacqueline Awe. Awe’s husband and Sarah’s uncle are both Nigerian-born American doctors. Her parents were now in America to take her back to Nigeria.
Mrs. Awe suggested Sarah come visit her at Savannah State University, where she was the Director of Student Development. Sarah visited the campus and was baffled by how small it was. Savannah State was not the massive American University she was used to. Mrs. Awe recommended the MBA program. Sarah applied, but didn’t think it was going to work out. She had given up. She had a ticket to go back to Nigeria and planned on using it.
“You know in the movies the wand that the fairy godmother swooshes in with and everything is alright?” Sarah says. “That was my life. One day I was packing my bags and instead of moving out of the country, I was moving into an apartment in Savannah because I was starting school in August.”
Savannah State not only accepted her, but provided a path for her education to be fully paid. She was granted an extension on her dream by the University by the Sea.
*
In March of 1903, the U.S. Congress passed the Immigration Law of 1903 effectively cutting off immigration for would be anarchists. In a few years, based on reports from the U.S Commissioner for Immigration, they would pass more laws targeted at Jewish refugees. But Wolf-Lieb had made it. He went to work peddling on the streets and in a sweatshop. He sent money home. His son Nathan soon joined him. By 1906, the entire family was in the U.S. They moved to western Pennsylvania . They opened a haberdashery. Later, his descendants would own department stores.
Less than a hundred years after Wolf-Lieb stepped through Ellis Island, his great great granddaughter Miriam and her husband Michael Miller give birth to a son. They name him Stephen. Stephen Miller grew fond of Conservative talk shows like Rush Limbaugh’s in his youth. Soon, far-right, extreme political ideas take root in his heart.
He develops an argument that the Statue of Liberty does not symbolize America’s identity as a nation of immigrants. He uses it, among others, effectively, with voracity of conviction. He becomes the longest tenured senior advisor to President Donald Trump, with a singular focus, immigration.
During the Trump Presidency, Miller orchestrated over 900 new policies on immigration through unilateral Presidential Executive Orders, proclamations or governmental restructuring.
Nearly every week during the Trump Presidency, U.S. immigration laws and rules changed. Sometimes with Presidential Executive Orders and sometimes with judges cutting down Presidential Executive Orders. It became a combative, ever changing paradigm with Miller’s end game driving the ship: zero immigration. Along side a direct attack on illegal immigration, Miller attacked legal immigration as well, including the popular H-1B visa program.
*
Even after being admitted to Savannah State, Sarah did not sleep well. Every day was a day closer to the end of the program. She counting down days. She never took a moment to sit down and enjoy a victory. She didn’t party like most college students. She studied and worked. She kept track of her ticking clock and the days. She asked herself if she’s learned from her mistakes and if she’s stronger as a person.
Facing the clock and the mountain of legal hurdles the Trump Administration put into place, Sarah’s nerves were on edge. She was planning another internship in the medical field but the pandemic ended that possibility. She continued to look for routes to work and gain legal citizenship. Returning home was not an option.
In 2020, violence swept through Nigeria. In late October in Lagos, protesters were shot and brutalized. Police headquarters were set on fire. The protestors in Africa’s most populous country were demanding the disbandment of a rogue police unit, the Special Anti-Robbery Squad (SARS). They claimed the unit has been terrorizing citizens. Although President Muhammadu Buhari has agreed to disband the unit, it’s done little to quell the violence.
Other than the violence, Sarah also faced the humiliation of returning to Nigeria after all her hard work to earn a student visa.
“If I go back home, it would be such a huge slap on my face,” she said. “I was one of the few that actually got out. Then to come back with really nothing. Ok, you have two degrees. They all have two degrees! All we do is go to school! Because there’s nothing else! So getting a degree to us is nothing.”
Friends who are American citizens texted her asking her when she will be ready to get married. Marriage is the quickest path to citizenship in the United States and leads quickly to chain migration. One of the most popular recent examples of how this works is the immigration of First Lady Melania Trump’s family.
In Canada, Sarah’s other brother has already settled into his new life. After finishing school, he quickly got a job and within a few years had full citizenship. The path to Canadian citizenship is much smoother and faster. Sarah is considering moving there. Her brother could sponsor her and within three years, she could be a full citizen. As she works towards another miracle in the form of a job with a path towards the H-1B visa, her Christian faith sustains her. She couldn’t sleep at night if she were to gain citizenship unethically, illegally.
“I had so many illegal options, but at what cost do I lose my soul to get a citizenship, that in my words, would not take me to heaven? God forbid I walk outside and a car hits me and I die. Guess what? My American citizenship is not going to save my soul. This is how I see things. This is what I believe.”
*
On November 7, 2020, Sarah did something she rarely does, but something most 20-year-olds in American probably do too much, she got drunk. At a brunch outing with friends in downtown Savannah, she let loose, shouting how much she loved America and how proud she was they had elected a new President. She shouted “God Bless America!” A few hours earlier, Biden became President Elect Joseph Biden along with his Vice-President elect Kamala Harris.
Witnessing the first African-American and HBCU graduate to be elected to the second highest office in the land shows her that America is still the land of possibilities. It validates her long wait in lines and has injected her dream with new life.