“The soldiers clubbed my little brother to death,” she whispered to me in Mandarin. “They didn’t shoot him because they didn’t want to waste a bullet. He was too little to work, worthless to their revolution.”
Han was a Chinese woman who survived the Cambodian genocide. She came to my office with her social worker, Jake Chang.
“Andy, here are her medical records,” Jake said as he handed them to me. He didn’t want Han to relive her trauma. So I read it instead.
After coming to the U.S. as a refugee, Han worked in restaurants and factories in the Bay Area. A non-profit mental health clinic in San Francisco treated her PTSD and depression. Her mental health had always been poor, but in the early 2000s, it deteriorated. Her nightmares resurfaced. She dreamed of people eating babies. She startled easily, almost poured boiling water on a coworker when a couple of young men walked into the shop unexpectedly. She suspected her boss and coworkers were afraid of her. Her emotions rotated from numbness to sadness to despair, but she couldn’t tell anyone why.
Her psychiatrist upped her psych meds, which suppressed the dreams but also dulled her. One day, she lost focus, fell down the stairs and hurt her arm. Her housemate brought her to the hospital.
After her discharge, Han couldn’t go back to her job. Jake helped her apply for Social Security disability. The claim was denied. “What went wrong, Andy?” Jake asked in English. “Did I do anything wrong?”
“I would need to see her Social Security file,” I answered.
“How long would that take, Andy? Han is running out of money to pay for rent.”
“A few days,” I said. “But why is she not on State Disability?”
Silence. Jake had forgotten that immigrants pay into California’s State Disability Insurance (CA SDI), just like any other worker. I immediately helped Han apply.
A few days later, Han’s file arrived. I learned that the Social Security Administration (SSA) was investigating Han for fraud. They thought she was faking her symptoms to get government benefits. Several years ago, she saw a therapist in Oakland that was linked with a series of welfare frauds. Although no longer a patient of that therapist, Han was blacklisted by the SSA. What made this Oakland therapist so infamous? I called my friend Sam at Bay Area Legal Aid (BALA) to find out. Sam worked at BALA’s Oakland office and managed their Social Security Advocacy program.
The whole thing started with a grant, Sam explained. The therapist was a PTSD specialist and had received a private foundation grant to help Cambodian refugees. When her patients became disabled with PTSD, she helped them apply for disability. After a while, Social Security became suspicious. How could every one of her patients be a PTSD survivor? And why are they all Cambodians? The SSA suspected that the therapist was a Cambodian insider conspiring with the Cambodian community to defraud the United States government.
A few months later, Han came to thank me. Her social security appeal was still pending, but her State Disability had been approved. She had money to live. She expected to be well soon, and asked me to drop her Social Security claim.
“America has been good to me,” she spoke in Mandarin. “It gave me a home, a refuge. I don’t want to take any more from others. I will go back to work soon.”
I asked if she knew both of her State Disability and Social Security Disability are insurance. She had paid for the insurance premium in the form of taxes. She had no idea.
“You are not taking anything from anyone,” I assured her. “It is your right. You paid for it. This is not free money. It is insurance. If you were in a car accident, would you hesitate to claim your car insurance?”
“My sister told me I can’t become a citizen if I ever get on welfare.”
“Your sister is confusing disability insurance with SSI (Supplemental Security Income). Sometimes SSI affects people getting permanent residency, which you already have. Again, Social Security Disability Insurance and State Disability, the benefits you applied for, are not welfare.”
She nodded. I asked if she was feeling better.
She said yes and showed me her arm. “It’s healed. See, Andy? But I still have nightmares, although not as much. A few days ago I even had a new flashback. A mosquito buzzed over my ear and I panicked, I didn’t know why. I sat down, took deep breaths and pictured a happy face like Mr. Chang taught me. That night I dreamed of my little brother. He looked radiant. He said he was not angry anymore and I shouldn’t be either. He told me to look behind him, and I saw a murky lake swarming with mosquitos. I woke up crying, remembering that’s where the soldiers took him away from us.”
“A breakthrough?” I tried to sound positive.
“Yes, it was. I was afraid that not working and staying at home would make me crazy, but I do feel better. I even called some relatives. My psychiatrist lowered my medications. Oh, and I started gardening.”
She took out a bouquet of hyacinths from a Safeway paper bag.
“These are for you, Andy! Please accept them. I didn’t buy them from Safeway, it is just a bag. Could you believe I grew all these beautiful flowers?”
Andy Chu, Esq. 
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