I applied to work for the 1990 Census expecting to spend several months in a nice, dull office, shuffling papers.
Instead, I was issued a badge, a natty plastic brief case, a pile of forms and a list of names, and sent to work as a Non Response Enumerator (sometimes called a Census taker.) in Pittsburgh’s South Oakland neighborhood.
South Oakland is near the University of Pittsburgh and several of the area hospitals. In 1990, it was also home to a large immigrant community.
The Census Bureau had prepared us for respondents who didn’t speak English. We were issued a pack of nice forms explaining what the Census was doing, and that they could send someone who spoke their language to interview them.
The forms were in Spanish.
I interviewed three people with Spanish surnames, who spoke English as well as I did, and a lady from South America who had an accent.
My first non English speakers were Turks.
I was guessing they didn’t speak Spanish either.
Their ten year old daughter spoke English. She was my interpreter, as I explained that every ten years our government counts people. That we have been doing this since George Washington was president. That anything they told me would be secret.
We managed.
It was a little more difficult with the Chinese couple. The husband spoke English, after a fashion. But he was not happy to talk to me. Tienanmin square had been the year before. In China, you have to be careful what you say to a government employee.
He was nervous, until I asked for his phone number, explaining that the Census bureau might call him to check up on me.
He smiled, relieved, and said, “I will tell them you did a very good job.” What a great country, where you can rat out a government employee!
I dealt with a Syrian family and an elderly Greek lady. I was able to make myself understood, with a little help. I could never get the Koreans to talk to me, though, heaven knows, I tried.
Now, some brilliant Republican wants the Census to not count illegal immigrants.
Happily, I didn’t have to ask anyone about their immigration status. I’m pretty sure, the immigrants I interviewed would have shut up like clams, if I had. Even if they were in this country legally.
Then there were the people with Spanish surnames. Some of whom, I think, were sixth generation Americans.
Would they have to prove they were born in the U.S.A?
I worked on the 2000 Census too, because the money was good. By then, the Census Bureau had figured out that not all immigrants were Hispanic.
My best immigrant story from 2000, came after I interviewed a Thai dental student.
He told me his first name, then he spelled it. He didn’t tell me his last name; he just spelled it. The Census bureau put 29 little rectangles on the forms, one for each letter of the respondent’s surname.
I ran out of rectangles long before he ran out of surname.
I wasn’t sure what to do. My crew leader, Mr. By The Book, wasn’t either. But it was entertaining watching his eyes bug out and his eyebrows meet his hairline, when he saw that name.
Anyway, Census workers have a tough enough job without having to help out ICE agents.
It’s not easy interviewing people from Iran, or Venezuela, or Byeloruss. It would be a lot harder if they thought talking to the Census could get them deported.
Xenophobia is a fine old American tradition.
The Germans, the Irish, the Chinese, the Italians, were all going to poison our blood, once upon a time.
Now, some of their descendants are worrying about illegal immigrants from what a former president called “sh*thole countries”.
I’m more worried about Republicans, who need to make enemies out of people who are just trying to live a better life.