by Andrew Harmon | The Advocate
Jet-lagged and nervous, Matthew lands at New York City’s John F. Kennedy International Airport dreading the next leg of the journey. He’s traveling home with his partner, a man with whom he’s spent the last 22 years in the capital of an undisclosed Middle Eastern country not known for its social tolerance. The drill is always the same: Somewhere between stumbling off the plane, shuffling through the jet bridge with passports in hand, and entering separate lines at immigration (“U.S. Citizens Only” and “Noncitizens”), the men go from intimates living in a strange land to strangers who avoid making eye contact through the glass wall that divides them. They take these precautions, Matthew says, because he fears that his partner could be barred from entry if there’s any evidence suggesting he might be enticed to stay in the United States.
Invariably, Matthew’s partner is pulled aside for questioning anyway. His Middle Eastern ethnicity and the impression that he’s traveling alone are red flags for immigration officers in the post-9/11 world. But he is not traveling alone, which is why Matthew’s dread turns into rage. “He is led off, I do not know where,” he says. “I want to help him. I want to ask what the hell they are doing with him, to keep their hands off him.… And I sob as I look through the glass.”
