In the mind of Maria, a Russian “nail technician and hair removal specialist,” privilege refers to her cubicle in the loft of a Newbury Street salon, where she answered questions during a brief lull in her beautification duties. Short and plump with Nordic features and a kind smile, she looks more like a suburban Betty than a fur-clad Comrade.
Maria, 53, arrived in the U.S from St. Petersburg, Russia (then the Soviet Union) in 1982. Soft-spoken Maria, whose last name is omitted at her request, has worked at Safar Coiffures for six years.

Her thick accent belies nearly three decades of Boston living, but broken English is common to the second story of Safar. On this floor, the middle-aged, immigrant females have formed a sort of workplace microcosm and Pidgin language. English is simply a tool of the trade, used to answer politely to the young American stylists and svelte Swiss cosmetologists who buzz about the floor below.
But Maria is not resentful of her station in the salon or in life as a foreign wageworker on the glitziest avenue of a wealthy city. “Land of work opportunity,” she rephrases, chuckling.

Maria claims that her immigration story “is so boring…so long ago.” Hers was a Cold War upbringing, but she has little to say about her political socialization in the Soviet Union.

“I just remember comparing [General Secretary] Leonid Brezhnev to Ronald Reagan and saying to myself ‘Americans pick better-looking presidents’,” she recalls, laughing.

Maria is not a naturalized citizen of the U.S, but holds a Green Card as a legal permanent resident. She and her husband, also from St. Petersburg, initially entered the U.S on non-immigrant (temporary) work visas and eventually gained LPR status.

She doesn’t remember the specifics of U.S immigration policy at the time of her arrival, only that it was a worn path and not troublesome.
“My husband had family who came to Boston, not New York. Too crowded,” she remembers. According to New York City’s 1980 census information, available at nyc.gov, foreign-born residents accounted for 1.6 million of a 7 million total population constituted largely by second and third generation emigres.

“They said we could come here and get jobs, and one day do paperwork to stay,” states Maria, matter-of-factly.

“I think illegals should try and do the papers, but I think now the times are different and it’s not so easy,” she offers. And Maria says she sees no parallels between the Anti-Communist policies of her time and U.S anti-terror measures following 9/11.

These security policies not only energized the vetting process for certain would-be immigrants, as with the Airport and Transportation Security Acts of 2001, but restricted the movement and breached privacy through authorized wire-tapping, property seizure and vague investigative procedures. Most of these security directives affected Muslims, exclusively.

Arriving in the U.S during the denouement decade of the Cold War, Maria came with no political baggage and a simple, satisfactory story for immigration officials. “We just told them we hated Communism and wanted work,” she shrugs.

Furthermore, Maria explains that she is unsurprised by the blameful tone of immigration dialogue since the economy’s downturn:
“It is true that immigrants take jobs that nobody wants, but no one notices until they are desperate and need them, and then they call them job-stealers and—what is it—slugs? Leeches.”

Maria does not consider immigration a right, but a matter of access. Largely disinterested in policy particulars or the competing calls for liberalization and restrictive policy, she blankets her thoughts on immigration and life thereafter with a single principle:

“If you are not born here, you don’t have any rights to this place…if you want to come here and you want those rights, maybe you have to deal with things that are not comfortable for you,” she concludes, wagging some instrument used for hair waxing and casting a glance towards the clock.

Addressing her students—aspiring journalists at Boston University’s College of Communication—Mehren relates her impressive biography with humorous self-deprecation and a sunny disposition compatible with her blonde hair, proud California origins and diploma from the University of California at Berkley.

Declining to reveal her age, she jokingly blames her displacement to Boston on “marriage to a Yank.” Mehren was dispatched to New England as a Los Angeles Times correspondent, a post she held for more than twenty years. She became a BU professor two years ago.

Having spent her writing career at a mega metropolitan publication, Mehren brings to the classroom a store of anecdotes and an insistence that this generation of students be familiar with old newsroom jargon, shorthand, and especially their unchanging professional purpose.

In an era when readers prefer blogs to ink on their fingers and newsroom shorthand could be confused with style, Mehren does speak wistfully of old school style, namely “the long form narrative that was permissible in dailies when I worked as a reporter.”

Mehren is quick to defend the art of print journalism from doomsayers, but admits “there have certainly been major shifts in the trade and we may never see it in its traditional form. But however we present the material, it must be done well.”

This call for journalistic care and integrity forms the theme in her classrooms, where she battles daily to not simply to dissuade her tech-savvy students from shortcuts, but to ensure the endurance of her beloved trade.

“The essential theology of journalism is not obsolete,” Mehren concludes. “The skills should be constant, the motives unchanging.”

Also in attendance were foreign ambassadors to the United States and family members of the late Senator Edward “Ted” Kennedy, including his widow Vicki who was seated beside first lady Michelle Obama. During Obama’s eulogistic mention of Senator Kennedy, a life-long advocate of health care reform, the audience was notably quiet.

However, adversaries of reform with Republican Congressmen at the forefront, responded throughout the remainder of the speech with vocal objection and by brandishing printed copies of their party’s proposal. Obama prefaced his discussion by addressing what he considered “key controversies.” 

“Such a charge would be laughable if it weren’t so cynical and irresponsible,” the president said of the death panel rumor, according to which government officials would exempt certain medical conditions from health care spending. In a remark specified for recipients of Medicare and Medicaid, Obama insisted that funding for those services would be untouched, calling them a “sacred trust.”

Much of the speech centered on the practical aspects of the proposed reform. Obama emphasized the introduction of a publicly sponsored option available to millions of uninsured Americans who could not afford health care or who were denied coverage by insurance companies due to pre-existing medical conditions or high-risk classifications.

Describing his market-themed ideal of an “insurance exchange,” President Obama sought to justify inevitable pressure on private providers by saying it would deter unethical excesses from insurance companies, to the consumer benefit of lower premiums.

Obama used the analogy of private versus public college options to explain that the private industry would not be compromised and those who could afford private insurance would retain their rights of selection.

“The health care problem is our deficit,” the president said prior to describing his plans for payment. Pledging to finance reform by eliminating waste and creating savings within the health care system, the president claimed that the public insurance option would not be taxpayer subsidized. “I will not sign a plan that adds one dime to the deficit,” he repeated.