Yefim and Maria Gorinshteyn have just returned from the courtyard at San Francisco’s Menorah Park. Residents often sit in that shady, tree-lined area, sipping tea and taking in the fresh air and one another’s company.
This Friday afternoon, however, the mood in the quiet courtyard of the senior housing facility seems to clash with the calm breeze that caresses branches and gray hair twisted into neat buns.
“People are panicking; they are very worried,” reports Maria Gorinshteyn, a 69-year-old immigrant from Ukraine. “One is having chest pain.”
Like thousands of elderly Soviet Jewish immigrants in the Bay Area, those at Menorah Park are living in terror of welfare reform. Under the newly signed Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Act, legal immigrants who have not yet become citizens will lose such vital government benefits as Supplemental Security Income and Medi-Cal, federally funded care for the medically indigent. They may also lose food stamps.
Elderly immigrants, who rely most heavily on those government programs, are likely to be hardest hit. On park benches, in Jewish Community Center corridors and private dining rooms, it is clear the older newcomers are feeling the gusts of the coming storm.
There is “depression, upset, hysteria,” observes Judy Teitler, executive director of Menorah Park.
In an attempt to prevent the expected loss of benefits, Menorah Park and other Jewish agencies have mounted campaigns to help naturalize legal immigrants quickly, before the expected changes take hold in February.
Jewish Family and Children’s Services in San Francisco, for example, has increased its citizenship program. The agency now hosts classes several times a week, and hundreds file through the doors to attend them.
JFCS in the East Bay, meanwhile, administers a citizenship test on its premises, a 3-month-old service that director Ted Feldman says was initiated in anticipation of welfare reform.
Menorah Park, where some 50 residents are legal immigrants but not yet citizens, is currently determining what individual residents need to do to prepare for citizenship. San Francisco’s Jewish Home for the Aged is doing the same.
“There is very much of a concerted effort under the direction of our social service director to have each refugee become a citizen,” says Jerry Levine, executive director of the Jewish Home.
Despite such efforts, everyone agrees: Some immigrants will simply be unable to pass the citizenship test.
Those least likely to succeed include the frail and elderly. Difficulties in learning English may impede them. Some, even those who have been in this country more than 18 years and are thus entitled to take the test in their native tongue, might have trouble concentrating or might buckle under pressure.
Developmentally disabled emigres will face an even greater challenge. They may have little, if any, chance of passing the test, experts worry.
Of the nearly 35,000 immigrants from the former Soviet Union living in the Bay Area, 20 percent are 65 or older. Between 5 percent and 10 percent of emigres never become U.S. citizens.
Anita Friedman, executive director of JFCS, cites one client whom she fears could fall into the latter category. The woman is 92 years old and in poor health; Friedman worries not only about her English skills but also her ability to tackle the fact-filled civics portion of the exam.
“These 100 questions include questions like: Who said, `Give me liberty or give me death’? What is the maximum length of time a person can serve in the Senate?” Friedman notes.
When the 92-year-old woman “gets a little bit nervous, she forgets everything. It will be hard for her to pass the test.”
The sweeping welfare reform bill calls for an end to the 60-year-old Aid to Families with Dependent Children (AFDC), instead giving states fixed-sum “block grants” to spend on aid programs of their own devising.
Overall, cuts in federal entitlements are expected to translate to a $58 billion savings over the next six years; that loss, it is predicted, will be countered largely through the restriction of benefits to legal immigrants.
As they move to put the new law into gear, some states, such as Illinois, already have begun denying food stamps to legal immigrants.
Precisely what welfare reform will mean for California is unclear.
The state has submitted its preliminary plan for implementing the federal reforms but, like many other state plans, it offers little indication of what shape the reforms will take. A more complete plan, devised by lawmakers, counties and welfare advocates, is due July 1.
“We have to wait and see what the state of California is going to do,” says Levine of the Jewish Home.
Panic, he adds, “is premature.”
Some legal experts would agree. They are, in fact, predicting that if the federal government does not take action to correct sections of the bill affecting legal immigrants, challenges to those clauses are sure to be mounted in court.
For now, however, most social service professionals are assuming the bill will remain as is.
In San Francisco alone, it is estimated that 15,700 elderly and disabled immigrants will be affected by welfare reform. They hail from around the world, though the majority come from the former Soviet Union, China and Latin America.
A range of experiences brought those immigrants to America. They tell vastly different stories, and pray to different gods. These days, though, all of them are bound by the common language of fear.
“People are very scared, depressed,” says Friedman, who estimates that 4,000 of JFCS’ elderly and disabled immigrant clients will be affected by the welfare reform law.
“Some people are suicidal. They [wonder] what will happen to them in this world if they have no money.”
Most Soviet Jewish emigres enter the country as refugees, a status that entitles them to full work authorization, medical benefits and food stamps. After four months, they can begin receiving indefinite medical aid.
Under the new legislation, their special status will expire after five years, when they become eligible for citizenship.
Those who enter this country with immigrant status, however, face an even tougher battle. Because they must wait five years to become citizens, they will be caught in limbo — without government benefits.
“They are out of luck,” says Friedman, who adds that shifting the burden from the public to the private sector has put enormous pressure on both cities and community-based organizations such as JFCS.
Yet, while Jewish and other social service agencies in the area have been bracing for welfare reform for some time, the reality is only beginning to strike most immigrants.
Isaak Elyashev, for his part, says welfare reform took him by surprise.
“I cannot believe how such a huge and enormous and great country would deny people their needs,” says the 71-year-old Menorah Park resident.
He immigrated three years ago from Odessa, Ukraine.
Ilyashev and his wife, Liza, spend several hours a day studying English and proudly proclaim their love of American history and culture. They are confident that when the time comes, they will pass their citizenship tests with aplomb.
Nonetheless, Isaak Ilyashev, who suffers from diabetes, worries about losing his SSI and the medical benefits that go along with it.
“Every day I take six, eight or 10 types of medicines,” he says. “I can’t even imagine if I don’t have the ability to use that possibility.”
Across the way, the Gorinshteyns are among the lucky ones. They immigrated to the Bay Area in May 1989 and, after countless hours of study, recently passed their citizenship test.
“It’s very pleasant, very nice, a great event, and we’re very proud of it,” Yefim Gorinshteyn says.
Sitting on the couch of their tiny, immaculate apartment, the Gorinshteyns hold up a voter pamphlet; they are busily preparing to vote in their first U.S. election. But excitement has not dulled the couple’s concern for those who have yet to conquer the hurdle.
“I just want to wish everyone to pass the test,” Maria Gorinshteyn says, her eyes filled with compassion, “and not to worry about it.”