End Of An Era At IRIS

(Opinion) Federal funding cuts are forcing IRIS, Integrated Refugee & Immigrant Services, to close its East Rock office in New Haven. I know this doesn’t mean the end of IRIS, but I do feel it’s the end of an era. IRIS has been on the corner of Willow and Nicoll for nearly 20 years, and I spent more than 18 years in that office as its executive director, before retiring last year.

Of course, the bigger issues are, why is the new administration freezing refugee resettlement, cutting funds to the entire national network of resettlement agencies, and crippling our oldest and most noble American tradition, symbolized by the Statue of Liberty? And, more important, how will this impact the 36 million refugees in the world?

These are topics for other articles. Allow me to reminisce about the IRIS office at 235 Nicoll St., a place where I spent nearly two decades of my life, longer than I have ever worked in one place.

Like a small-scale Ellis Island, IRIS on Nicoll Street is where thousands of refugees first set foot in Connecticut. Arriving from JFK, usually late at night, stumbling out of shuttle buses, excited and exhausted, the newcomers were greeted by IRIS case managers and volunteers. 

Sometimes I would join them. ​“Welcome to Connecticut,” I would say shaking the men’s hands and smiling at the half-asleep women and children. ​“Welcome to IRIS.”

For refugees who had fled persecution and war, and had undergone rigorous vetting, and waited years for final US approval (some spent years in refugee camps), it was the end of a long journey. And the beginning of a new one. 

Nicoll Street is where many refugees learned their first words of English, made their first medical appointments, learned about public schools, prepared for jobs, met with immigration attorneys, and made friends. 

“Refugees have been through a lot,” I used to tell my team. ​“And sadly they will have to deal with a range of unfamiliar and sometimes complicated bureaucracies. Let’s make sure IRIS is a haven of hospitality.” 

Back in 2006, when we only rented the second floor from OR&L, we thought 4,000 square feet was incredibly spacious. It was, compared to the cramped two-bedroom apartment on Wooster Square where IRIS – then called Interfaith Refugee Ministry – was based for ten years. 

“Space matters,” I explained to my board of directors. With more space we could welcome more refugees, run English language classes, hold workshops, conduct employment trainings, convene town hall meetings, and give staff their own desks. 

Location matters too. The East Rock neighborhood embraced IRIS. Landlords rented to us. The local schools welcomed our students. Businesses opened their doors to us. Jim, the manager at Archie Moore’s hired refugees to be dishwashers and cooks.

“Your guys come here to work,” Carl, the bartender, told me. ​“And they work hard.“ 

From the moment we moved in, IRIS had the vibe of an international community center. Some called it chaotic. I preferred to say it was bustling. Most days the waiting room was packed with people from all over the world, gathered around the coffee and tea station, chatting with each other or meeting with staff and volunteers. You would hear a variety of languages and you’d see a wide range of global fashions. It looked like a low-budget United Nations. 

I refused to spend money on renovations. The carpeting was worn, the ceiling tiles were stained, and all of our office furniture was used. I remember when a major donor visited. Visibly surprised by our shabby appearance, he raised his eyebrows and commented, ​“Well, it’s obvious you don’t spend my donations on your office.”

I was proud of that. We kept our salaries relatively low and our operating costs down — preferring to put as much as we could into direct services for our clients. 

In 2006, we were a staff of about a dozen. We grew steadily over the next 18 years, helping more and more refugees and immigrants, raising more funds, adding more programs, hiring more staff, and expanding our size. In 2014 we took over the first floor and doubled our space, which we quickly filled with more classrooms, after-school programs, a pre-school, citizenship training, expanded legal services, health coordinators, job developers, community engagement staff, case managers, and a food pantry that by 2021 was serving 400 families a week, thanks to volunteers.

At our peak, 75 staff worked out of the Nicoll Street office. It was an international staff that reflected the diversity of the refugees we welcomed. 

I have so many memories of dedicated colleagues, enthusiastic volunteers, dedicated donors, and remarkable clients. I remember when I came to the office early one Saturday morning to meet a group of Yale students, I found my senior case manager asleep on a couch. She had worked late the previous night. 

I remember when a single mother from Baghdad cried with joy when she received her very first paycheck. I remember consoling refugees who had learned that their loved ones left behind in their home country had been killed. 

I remember the employment team ringing the Job Bell to celebrate when a client got their first job. I remember listening in on hundreds of English language lessons (“How are you? I am fine, thank you”) that took place in the same room where we held board meetings, which was the same room where every winter I used my amateur acting skills to give lessons to newcomers on how to walk safely on icy streets and sidewalks. 

When you walked through that door at 235 Nicoll, you felt you were entering a special place. IRIS was not only an exciting and friendly place to work; we felt privileged to be part of an inspiring and deeply American mission — welcoming persecuted people from all over the world and helping them start new lives. Despite the challenges, the work brought us joy and great satisfaction. And sometimes national attention. 

In November of 2015, a Syrian refugee family was supposed to be resettled in Indiana. But the governor at the time, Mike Pence, announced that Syrian refugees would not be welcomed. So instead they came to IRIS. Connecticut Gov. Dannel P. Malloy came to New Haven to welcome the family in person. It was a big story in the New York Times. But we were just doing our job. 

We were never afraid to try new things, like community sponsorship, an approach in which we trained groups of volunteers to welcome refugee families in their own communities and provide all of the services that our staff provided. It worked so well that the U.S. Department of State decided to adopt the model on a national level. IRIS became one of the best known refugee resettlement agencies in the country and attracted visitors from all over the world. 

Like other nonprofits, IRIS was an informal place where everyone pitched in to help, where we often had to improvise, and where we enjoyed trying new things. We took turns staffing the reception desk. On weekends, we stretched computer cables from one room to the next and engaged volunteers to repaint our walls. Fixing clogged toilets was one of my responsibilities. On hot summer days, we would stretch a garden hose from the second floor bathroom out the window to fill an inflatable wading pool on the Nicoll Street sidewalk for toddlers to cool off. A Congolese client volunteered to take care of the front garden and planted irises, naturally. In 2009, the famous sculptor Susan Clinard created a pop-up studio on the second floor and sculpted images of a dozen of our clients. 

IRIS used the East Rock office to the maximum. We processed literally tons of donations, handed out thousands of school backpacks filled with supplies, set up winter clothing boutiques, distributed thousands of bags of groceries, showed films, rehearsed plays, gave interviews, lectured college students, held town hall meetings, offered yoga for refugee women, and gave bike safety lessons. All with the help of thousands of volunteers from all over the state. 

Refugees, employees and volunteers were not the only ones who came to IRIS. Elected officials including U.S. Sens. Richard Blumenthal and Chris Murphy and U.S. Rep. Rosa DeLauro held press conferences at IRIS. Members of the state General Assembly often visited, as did three mayors, two governors, and officials from the U.S. Department of State. We hosted hundreds of interns, including a Yale Divinity School summer intern by the name of Anthony Campbell who went on to become the chief of police of the City of New Haven and later Yale University. (I like reminding him that I used to be his boss.) 

As IRIS packs up, on behalf of the thousands of refugees we welcomed and myself, I’d like to thank all of its East Rock neighbors: Jerry’s Shell gas station, which put up with our crowds on Food Pantry Day; MActivity, for hosting our events; and all our landlords. Thank you to all of the East Rock alders who supported us. And thank you to everyone who lived in the neighborhood who was friendly to our newcomers. 

In a few weeks IRIS will leave East Rock. I have no doubt that with its dedicated staff and volunteers, and with generous support from the community, IRIS will find another office and will continue to welcome and serve refugees and immigrants, even if they lose all federal funding. Let’s hope IRIS keeps its welcoming and inspiring spirit and vibrant culture that thrived on Nicoll Street.