This interview is with Jenine Saleh Esq. , Managing Attorney, Human Rights First.
For readers meeting you on Featured for the first time, how do you describe your role as Managing Attorney at Human Rights First’s Refugee Representation and the core focus of your work?
As Managing Attorney for the Refugee Representation program at Human Rights First, I lead the strategy and day-to-day operations of a national legal services model focused on expanding access to protection for refugees seeking asylum and other forms of humanitarian relief in the United States.
A big part of my role is mobilizing and supporting hundreds of pro bono attorneys across the country to represent asylum seekers and other vulnerable immigrants. What I find especially meaningful is that many of these attorneys are new to this area of law. With the right training, mentorship, and resources, they are able to step into incredibly complex, high-stakes cases and make a real difference. I work closely on building and strengthening that infrastructure by developing trainings, resource libraries, and support systems that help ensure clients receive thoughtful, high-quality representation.
I also lead rapid-response efforts in urgent situations, such as cases involving detention or imminent removal, where timing is critical. In those moments, it is not just about legal knowledge—it is about having systems and teams in place that can move quickly and effectively.
At its core, my work is about bridging the gap between legal rights and real access to those rights. Individual representation is incredibly important, but what drives me is building systems that allow that representation to reach more people, more consistently, and with lasting impact.
Looking back, which experiences—from founding Global Health Conscious to leading multi-office legal teams—most shaped your path into human-rights legal advocacy and attorney management?
Looking back, my path was shaped very early by founding Global Health Conscious. That experience was deeply personal, and it continues to influence how I lead today.
With Global Health Conscious, I was building something from the ground up—defining the mission, forming partnerships, coordinating international logistics, and ensuring that resources actually reached displaced communities. I led an international NGO operating across multiple countries, partnering with organizations and refugee camps in diverse contexts. I was directly involved in all aspects of the work—from securing and distributing medical supplies to coordinating cross-border logistics and working closely with partners on the ground. It wasn’t abstract work. It required constant problem-solving, cultural awareness, and a deep sense of responsibility to the communities we were serving.
What shaped me most during that time was seeing, up close, how gaps in systems—not just lack of resources—can determine whether people receive care or are left without support. It also reinforced how critical trust and local partnership are in humanitarian work. That experience grounded my understanding of what meaningful access looks like, and how much coordination it takes behind the scenes to make it possible.
On a personal level, that work was closely tied to my own background. As the child of refugees, I grew up with an awareness of displacement, but through Global Health Conscious, I began to understand the operational side of what it takes to respond to those realities. It made the work feel immediate and tangible, and it shaped my long-term commitment to this field.
Transitioning into leadership roles at Human Rights First, I carried those lessons with me—but applied them in a different context. Instead of building a nonprofit from scratch, I was scaling and strengthening an existing program. Across both experiences, the common thread has been a shift from direct service to systems-building. Whether it was coordinating international medical aid or mobilizing a national legal network of pro bono partners, I’ve learned that lasting impact comes from creating structures that allow that work to reach more people, more effectively, and with consistency.
Those experiences—building Global Health Conscious and later leading at scale—have shaped my commitment to human-rights advocacy.
Building on that journey, what decision framework do you rely on to triage asylum and humanitarian cases while balancing urgency, potential impact, and ethical obligations?
There is an important need to balance urgency, vulnerability, legal viability, and ethics—while staying grounded in the reality that each case represents a human being navigating an incredibly difficult moment.
I usually start with urgency: is there an immediate risk of harm if nothing happens right now? That could mean imminent removal, detention, a filing deadline, or a pressing safety concern. In those situations, the priority is stabilizing the case and preserving the client’s rights, even if I do not yet have all the answers.
From there, I look at vulnerability and access. I think carefully about the barriers someone may be facing—trauma, language, detention, isolation, or lack of legal knowledge—and how those factors affect their ability to move through the system. Not everyone starts from the same place, and part of this work is recognizing when someone needs additional support to have a fair chance.
I also consider the legal posture and where my involvement can make the greatest impact. That includes assessing the strength of potential claims, the procedural stage, and whether stepping in at that moment can meaningfully change the outcome—not just for one individual, but sometimes for an entire family or even broader issues, such as shaping emerging areas of case law.
Throughout this process, I think carefully about what I can responsibly take on, how to be transparent with clients, and how to ensure I am providing competent, thoughtful representation. Sometimes that means full representation; sometimes it involves rapid-response intervention; and other times it means offering guidance, referrals, or helping someone preserve their options during a moment of uncertainty.
At its core, this work requires the ability to move quickly when it matters most, while still making decisions that are fair, deliberate, and grounded in the responsibility we carry in serving our clients. It also requires a trauma-informed approach—recognizing the impact of past harm, creating space for clients to share their experiences safely, and ensuring that urgency never comes at the expense of trust or care.
Staying with case strategy, in matters involving prior removal orders or criminal-legal entanglements, which underused legal mechanisms have you found most effective for rectifying past injustices?
I’ve found that some of the most effective tools are often the ones that require a bit more creativity and persistence to pursue.
One of the most impactful is the motion to reopen, especially when it is grounded in due process concerns. Whether it involves lack of proper notice, ineffective assistance of counsel, or newly available evidence, reopening can create a meaningful opportunity to revisit outcomes shaped by unfairness. Where timing is an issue, equitable tolling can be critical and is sometimes underutilized, even when it is strongly supported by the facts.
When there are clear equities, legal errors, or strong humanitarian factors, engaging with DHS in a collaborative way—depending on the broader legal environment—can lead to outcomes that might otherwise be difficult to achieve through litigation alone. Along similar lines, pursuing mandatory termination before the Executive Office for Immigration Review, when relief has already been granted—such as when USCIS approves relief that eliminates the basis for removal—can be a powerful and sometimes overlooked way to resolve proceedings more efficiently and fairly.
In the criminal-legal context, post-conviction relief is often essential. Vacating or modifying a conviction—particularly in cases involving constitutional issues, like ineffective assistance under Padilla—can completely change a client’s immigration posture. These cases often require time, care, and close coordination, but the impact can be truly transformative for the individuals and families involved.
I also think it’s important not to underestimate the role of prosecutorial discretion. Requests to terminate or dismiss proceedings, or to prioritize certain forms of relief, can make a meaningful difference, particularly for clients with strong humanitarian factors.
Finally, federal litigation—including habeas and APA actions—can be critical in cases involving detention or procedural violations. In the right case, these tools can play an essential role in challenging unlawful detention and compelling agency action.
Across all of these approaches, the common thread is thoughtful, client-centered advocacy—taking a step back to ask whether there is another way to move the case forward, one that more fully reflects fairness, due process, and the client’s lived reality.
On the civil-liberties front, what practical safeguards do you build into daily casework to protect clients’ rights amid aggressive immigration enforcement?
I approach this work first and foremost through a trauma-informed lens, recognizing that many of the clients I serve are carrying the weight of past harm, ongoing uncertainty, and fear of what may come next. Protecting their rights is not just about legal strategy—it is about creating a space where they feel safe, heard, and supported as they navigate an incredibly difficult process.
A big part of that is helping clients regain a sense of control. I spend time walking through Know Your Rights guidance and discussing different scenarios they may encounter with immigration authorities—what could happen, what their options are, and how they can respond. These conversations are grounding for those who suffer from PTSD. They help clients feel more prepared and less alone in moments that can otherwise feel overwhelming.
I also prepare “representation packets”—clear, organized documentation that explains a client’s status and key aspects of their case. In high-stress situations, having something tangible can be incredibly reassuring while also helping protect against misunderstandings or errors.
Family preparedness is another important piece of this work. While it can be difficult to talk through worst-case scenarios, creating a plan—identifying trusted contacts, organizing documents, and thinking through next steps—often brings clients a sense of stability. It allows them to face uncertainty with more clarity and confidence.
I am also mindful of the mental and emotional toll this process takes. Many clients are living with PTSD, anxiety, and ongoing stress. Whenever possible, I connect them with mental health and social service support, and I try to move at a pace that respects their capacity. Even small steps—clear explanations, consistent communication, and patience—can make a meaningful difference. Just as important, I want clients to feel ownership over their case. I take care to explain options in a way that allows them to make informed decisions that feel right for them and their families. Often, what clients need most is not only legal guidance, but the reassurance that someone is standing with them—that they are not navigating this system alone.
At its core, my approach is about pairing strong legal advocacy with compassion—ensuring that clients not only have their rights protected but also feel supported, prepared, and empowered every step of the way.
Turning to evidence and narrative, which evidence-gathering or client-storytelling practices have most improved outcomes for trauma-impacted clients seeking protection?
PTSD can lead to lasting changes in how the brain processes stress, memory, and threat. Research shows it can alter neural pathways and affect areas like the amygdala, hippocampus, and prefrontal cortex, which are involved in fear response, memory, and regulation. It can change how someone recalls events, responds to perceived danger, and engages with difficult experiences—which is important to keep in mind when working with clients sharing traumatic histories.
It is essential to develop a trauma-informed approach that actively works to minimize re-traumatization. That means approaching evidence-gathering with flexibility, patience, and care. Traditional interviewing is not always the most supportive approach. For many clients living with PTSD or anxiety, speaking about traumatic events can feel overwhelming and re-traumatizing. I often offer alternatives, like inviting clients to write their story in their own time and in their own words. That small shift can create space, privacy, and a sense of control—allowing clients to engage in a way that feels safer for them.
I’m also very mindful that trauma doesn’t present itself in a neat, chronological way. It’s common for memories to be fragmented or out of order. One practical tool I use is having clients write down key events, details, or facts on separate notecards, and then gently working together to arrange them. Seeing their story visually can make it feel more manageable and less overwhelming, and it helps us build a clear narrative without putting pressure on them to “get it right” all at once.
A big part of this work is also helping clients feel informed and empowered. I take time to explain why I’m asking certain questions and how specific details connect to the legal framework—for example, the difference between past persecution and fear of future harm. When clients understand the purpose behind the questions, it shifts the experience from feeling like an interrogation to feeling like a collaborative process. I try to give clients as much ownership as possible. For many people, just knowing they have a voice in the process, and that they are not being rushed or judged, can make a meaningful difference.
At its core, this approach is about meeting clients where they are—honoring the impact of trauma while still building a strong, well-supported case. When clients feel safe, supported, and in control, they are often better able to share their experience.
Zooming into team leadership, how do you implement your mentorship-plus-stretch-assignments philosophy in a high-volume practice while maintaining consistent quality control?
I try to approach it in a way that feels supportive, not overwhelming—so that growth and quality go hand in hand. It starts with making sure no one is ever navigating something new alone. When I give an assignment, I pair it with real support—templates, sample filings, guidance, and regular check-ins to talk through strategy. I want my supervisees to feel challenged, but also confident that they have the tools and space to ask questions as they go. I’m known for sending elaborate emails with clear, detailed explanations, samples, templates, and resources—everything to equip supervisees with the knowledge to tackle the assignment on their own. Mentorship is key here while supporting their own professional accountability.
I’m also very intentional about pacing. I try to meet people where they are while gently encouraging them to realize their potential, rather than throwing them into something that feels unmanageable. Over time, those moments build confidence and deepen skills in a way that feels sustainable.
Quality control is something I build into the process, not something I layer on at the end. I stay closely engaged on filings (including different drafts) and strategy, and I see feedback as part of mentorship—not just correction. We often work through drafts together, so supervisees can see how their work evolves and understand the reasoning behind changes. It’s helpful to explain edits, which leads to better learning and understanding, rather than just making changes.
At a team level, consistency comes from having strong systems in place. Shared templates, resource libraries, and clear guidance help ensure that everyone is starting from a solid foundation. That way, supervisees can focus on the unique aspects of their assignment while still maintaining a high, consistent standard. Just as important, I try to create a culture where people feel comfortable asking questions early. In a fast-paced environment, it’s easy to have workplaces that feel like you need to figure things out on your own, but I emphasize that reaching out is part of doing this work well. I am more impressed by someone with thoughtful questions that reflect knowledge and understanding of core aspects of the project than a draft that is incorrectly framed.
Ultimately, my goal is to make mentorship part of the everyday workflow—so that each assignment is a meaningful opportunity for growth and support for the supervisee doing the work.
From your experience coordinating national partnerships, what elements distinguish cross-sector coalitions that produce measurable human-rights wins from those that stall?
Partnerships work best when roles are clear, expectations are realistic, and each partner is set up to contribute in a way that fits their capacity. Different partners bring very different strengths, and recognizing that early makes all the difference.
Law firms are often best positioned to take on full representation, handle complex filings, and stay with a case long-term. With the right training and mentorship, they can build deep expertise and become incredibly strong, consistent partners. Corporate partners tend to engage differently—they often support through clinics, discrete projects, research, or surge support during high-volume periods. They bring strong project management skills and can mobilize quickly, even if they’re not structured for long-term, full-scope representation. Legal service providers and sister organizations often bring deep subject-matter expertise, direct client relationships, and community trust. They are essential for referrals, screenings, local insight, and continuity of care. Coalition partners—whether national networks or local collaboratives—help coordinate strategy, share information, and keep efforts aligned across organizations, especially in fast-moving or high-stakes situations.
Because of these differences, clarity upfront really matters. Being clear about who is doing what—who is taking full cases, who is supporting in a more limited scope manner, who is providing referrals or community-based support, and what level of training and supervision is needed—helps prevent confusion and makes collaboration feel much smoother. I’ve also found that pairing different types of partners together—like a law firm with a legal service provider, or a corporate team with experienced counsel—can really strengthen quality control. It allows each partner to bring their strengths while ensuring the work is both well-supported and grounded in expertise.
The partnerships that tend to last also have simple, reliable systems in place. Clear points of contact, easy-to-use templates, referral pathways, and regular check-ins help keep things moving and avoid bottlenecks. At the end of the day, what makes these partnerships effective isn’t complexity—it’s clarity, consistency, and making sure everyone is set up to do their part well.
Looking ahead, what is one actionable change—whether legal, policy, or management—that practitioners can champion this year to meaningfully improve refugee protection?
One of the most meaningful shifts I’ve seen is when practitioners treat advocacy as part of their everyday practice—not something separate from client work. There are real opportunities to engage earlier in the process, especially through public comments on proposed regulations and changes to the CFR. Practitioners are often closest to the impact of these policies—we see where systems break down, where barriers arise, and what changes would actually improve access to protection. Taking the time to submit comments, even short ones grounded in client experience, can help shape how policies are written and implemented before they cause harm.
Coalition work makes that advocacy stronger and more sustainable. Working groups and coalitions create space to share what we’re seeing on the ground, identify patterns across cases, and think collectively about how to respond. That can look like information-sharing calls, coordinated strategy discussions, joint public comments, or even days of action. When partners are aligned, it becomes much easier to amplify each other’s work rather than operate in silos.
Different partners can contribute in different ways—legal service providers bringing direct client experience, law firms supporting with legal analysis and drafting, corporate partners helping mobilize resources, and advocacy organizations helping elevate the message. That kind of collaboration not only strengthens the substance of the advocacy but also extends its reach.
From a management perspective, one practical step is to build this into the workflow. Tracking proposed rules, participating in working groups, and setting aside time to contribute—whether through drafting, reviewing, or joining coalition efforts—helps make advocacy more consistent and impactful.
At its core, this is about using what we are already seeing in our daily work to help shape a system that is fairer, more responsive, and more protective of the people we serve.
Thanks for sharing your knowledge and expertise. Is there anything else you'd like to add?
I would just add that this work, at its core, is about people—often at the most vulnerable moments in their lives. It’s easy to get pulled into the pace, the volume, and the complexity of the system, but what has always grounded me is remembering that behind every case is someone navigating fear, uncertainty, and hope all at once.
For me, that means continuing to approach the work with both strong advocacy and compassion. Strong legal advocacy matters, but so does how we show up for clients, how we support each other as practitioners, and how we build systems that make this work more sustainable over time.
I also think there is real power in community—whether that’s within our own teams or across organizations. None of this work happens in isolation, and some of the most meaningful progress comes from sharing knowledge, supporting one another, and staying connected to a broader collective effort.
Even in a challenging and often shifting legal landscape, there are always opportunities to advocate, to improve systems, and to create more access to protection. That belief is what continues to drive the work forward.