Zhu Xuerong longs to bring her young children from Fujian Province in China to America – but not to Brownsville, where she lives.
The language barrier there is so profound, the cultural differences so great, she doesn’t want raise her four-year-old and one-year-old in such isolation. Although both children were born in the U.S., Zhu, 37, sent them to China to live with their grandparents until she becomes more settled.
“If they learn something in English, I want to be able to turn to other parents who speak both languages and can translate for me,” she said, speaking in Mandarin.
In Brownsville, only one percent of residents are Asian, according to U.S. Census Bureau figures from 2007. Some 810 Asian families live in Brooklyn public housing, and Zhu is one of the few Asian immigrants who live in Brownsville’s housing developments.
Lives of Challenges
The Van Dyke Houses, where Zhu and some of her extended family members reside, consist of 22 high- and low-rise brick buildings and expanses of grass visible from the elevated No. 3 train. Only a handful of Chinese immigrant families live within its 1,603 units. Theirs are lives of challenge, from scheduling repairs to befriending neighbors. It’s especially tough for someone like Zhu, who last year moved from Sunset Park, Brooklyn’s bustling Chinatown, to Brownsville.
“I’ve seen more of an issue with switching neighborhoods than I’ve seen with switching countries,” said Vilma Williams, director of social services at the Brownsville Multi-Service Family Health Center. “I think when a person has moved from one country to another, they realize that they must adapt. [But] sometimes when people move from, let’s say, Washington Heights to Brownsville or East New York, it feels so foreign to them.”
Zhu thought she might be moving to a neighborhood with an established Chinese-American community. “It was a surprise to me, when I found out I was placed in Brownsville,” she said. “I feel isolated from all my friends in Chinatown and other parts of Brooklyn.”
Prospective residents of public housing have very little choice in their placement. Though tenants can pick the top two boroughs they prefer, the New York City Housing Authority determines their apartment size and ultimately places them in a specific development.
Taking a Chance
The agency says a computer program makes assignments without consideration of race or ethnicity, a policy mandated by the federal government since the early 1990s. If applicants reject their placement, they run the risk of waiting indefinitely. The NYCHA vacancy rate is so low — 0.6 percent — it could take a long time for another apartment to become available.
When immigrants are placed in neighborhoods with very few people of the same heritage, they lose the familiarity and support that newcomers historically have relied upon, immigrant advocates say.
Immigrants “living in Chinatown have the benefit of proximity to social services,” and of living near neighbors who have gone through similar experiences, noted Howard Shih, a spokesman for the Asian American Federation. Nonprofit groups that provide services often have offices in predominately ethnic neighborhoods, but rarely elsewhere.
Zhu found out how frustrating the lack of readily available help can be when water began leaking through her walls this winter. Although she moved to the U.S. 10 years ago, she speaks only broken English and neither she nor the relatives who live with her were able to ask a neighbor whom to contact about the leak. She had to call an English-speaking friend in Manhattan’s Chinatown and ask her to alert the maintenance workers in Brownsville.
Zhu shops in Sunset Park, or in Manhattan’s Chinatown, both about 45 minutes by subway. She also works at a Chinese restaurant in Long Island City, a trip that requires two subway transfers. This is particularly tough for her, because when there’s a train delay or service change she’s unable to ask for help with signs or announcements.
Lisa Kenner, president of the Van Dyke Tenants Association, said that when she organizes community get-togethers she doesn’t post notices in Chinese – Kenner only knows English and some Spanish. This, Kenner believes, contributes to the isolation of her Asian immigrant neighbors. “From what I observe, they keep to themselves, they don’t really mix with anybody,” said Martell Williams, 24, who lives across the hallway from Zhu and her relatives.
Lost in Translation
NYCHA does not translate fliers for such informal event as community gatherings, nor does it distribute maintenance notices in any language other than English. Maintenance workers at Van Dyke recently had to inspect gas lines in each apartment, but signs explaining that a resident had to let workers in were posted only in English.
Lian Yong Huang, 66, another Chinese immigrant, deals with a similar language barrier at the NYCHA senior citizens’s development in Coney Island where she lives. Like Zhu, she has trouble scheduling repairs. But Huang believes the inconveniences are worth it. “If no one steps in first,” she said in Cantonese, “they’ll never have Chinese people living in the area.”
Zhu also sees a positive side to her situation in public housing: before, she lived in a studio apartment with relatives, and now they’re in a spacious two-bedroom.
“I have more private space,” she said, “but I’m much more secluded.”
(For a primer on how the public housing application process works, go here.)
– Additional reporting by Kate Zhao
