Mya Guarnieri: Michelle Trinanis, 14, is amongst those who face expulsion. Born and raised in Israel, she has never visited the Philippines and does not speak Tagalog. In fluent Hebrew, she rhetorically asks: "Why should I have to start again?"
Reflecting on the deportation, Trinanis compares the move to being treated like sheep. "It's not okay," she says.
Trinanis prays every day that the government will allow her and her family to stay. As she waits for an answer, she finds acceptance and comfort in the community.
Several days ago, a friend started a Facebook group in the hope of preventing Trinanis' deportation. More than a hundred strangers have already joined, sending messages of support.
For now, she prefers uncertainty to a no. "I feel like it's good not to know. If I knew more, I'd be scared to go outside," she says. "I'd be stuck in the house."
Despite the fact that the government has not announced a final decision, families face harassment from the immigration police and some couples are keeping their children indoors.
But for the Trinanis family, life goes on as the parents try to give their children a sense of normalcy.
Judith Trinanis, Michelle's mother, says: "I want them to feel free."
Mya Guarnieri: Michelle Trinanis, 18, was one of 1,200 children threatened with expulsion in 2009 when Israel announced its intention to deport migrant families. Although the state opened a “one-time window” in 2010 that will lead to the naturalization of 700 of those children — 600 have already received status and, according to Ilan another 100 will receive their IDs — Trinanis was one of the many whose applications were initially denied despite meeting all of the criteria.
After a protracted legal battle, which went all the way to the Israeli Supreme Court, Trinanis finally has an Israeli identity card. In December, she will begin mandatory service in the army — the road to acceptance in mainstream Israeli society.
Although she doesn’t know yet what she will be requested to do in the military, Trinanis is happy and excited to join. “I already fought to stay in the country, so I will fight for the country,” she says.
But she admits that it’s “unfair” that other migrants’ children are not getting legal status. And Trinanis says that she remains conflicted about the issue. She has friends who were not naturalized; she tries to give them the same support and encouragement that others gave her when she was struggling with the threat of deportation.
On the other hand, Trinanis says she understands the state’s reasoning. “When I was young, I thought ‘why can’t they give anyone a teudat zehut [Israeli ID]?’ I understand now that it’s a big problem [because of] the laws.”
“Israelis,” she explains, “are loyal to themselves.”
Trinanis’s words reflect the government line: for years, Israeli officials have claimed that its policies towards migrants and their families stem from concern about maintaining the country’s demographics and preserving a Jewish state.
Bnei Lot are of an ancient origin. In the migratory tradition of Ruth begun more than two millennia ago, a remnant of David and Solomon migrated into Maritime Southeast Asia which comprises what is now Brunei, East Timor, Indonesia, Malaysia, New Zealand, Papua New Guinea, The Philippines, and Singapore, as well as Melanesia, Micronesia, and Polynesia, with a sizeable minority of Malays migrating back to their tribal allotments in Sephardic Judah, besides Terrestrial and Figurative Jordan.