This prison has become my monastery.’

The events of Sept. 11, 2001, were a devastating tragedy, and the tangled web of security measures that were subsequently implemented have created their share of havoc, heartbreak and frustration. The case of Sonam, a thirty-year old Buddhist nun, was recently documented in The Washington Post.

Seeking asylum from religious persecution, Sonam fled China and entered the United States in August after her friends and family were subjected to torture for their adherence to Buddhist beliefs. Sonam entered the United States and was promptly incarcerated in Virginia. In November, Sonam was granted asylum by a federal immigration judge. The Department of Homeland Security immediately announced that it was appealing the case; instead of tasting religious and political freedom, Sonam shuffled back to her cell, shackled, where she awaits her next court date. While no date has yet been set, it is unlikely that she will be ushered into court again before the fall.

Tibetan Buddhists have been subject to religious persecution for more than half a century. In 1950, the forces of newly communist China invaded and occupied the Tibetan territories, and since the 1959 National Uprising, the Dalai Lama has been living in exile in India. In recent years, the plight of the Tibetan people has received increasing attention from the American public.

Clearly, there have been some gaping holes in the immigration process, as evidenced by recent reports suggesting that among the 9/11 hijackers were individuals who should have been denied entry or the right to remain in the United States. However, this process of denying parole to immigrants such as Sonam results in indefinite periods of incarceration. Coupled with the staggering amount of bureaucratic inefficiency, asylum seekers are forced into a miserable Bardo where they are neither here nor there. Sonam does not know when or if she will be freed.

Although she is unable to speak to anyone in prison — since Sonam does not speak English —, she maintains: ”This prison has become my monastery.“

Mimi Hanaoka