Graduate Journal of Social Science, Volume 15, Issue 1 Racial Profiling and Segregation: The Vulnerable, the Delinquents, the Disposable. On a cold morning in January 2017 I am walking down the main street of the city centre of Mytilene. The shops are open, people are passing by, and the street is noisy and busy. The sea surrounding the city centre’s dock is calm. As I walk in front of the open shops, the big and bold headlines of a local newspaper catch my attention: “Vulnerable and troublemakers will be removed from the island” (sic). The article says that the Mayor and the Prime Minister came to an agreement in order for “vulnerable” and “delinquents” (paravatikoi) iv border crossers, and those who create problems for the local community, to be transferred from Lesvos to the mainland. What an oxymoron I thought, the “vulnerable” and “deviant” together; the former are the ones that “deserve” protection and special treatment, while the latter are the “undesirable”. The representation of border crossers in media and policy discourse through binaries such as “vulnerable” versus “delinquent” produces images of people who are either “problematic” (vulnerable) or “the problem” (deviant) per se (Judge, 2010; Nyers, 2006; Pickering, 2001). These binaries problematise border crossers who are all grouped and criminalised as ‘a problem’ and ‘problematic’ faceless population and not as people seeking international protection. As I am reading the newspaper article, I could not stop thinking of Sharon Pickering’s words: “the inherent deviancy of asylum seeking” (Pickering, 2001, p. 178), and the a priori criminalisation and stigmatisation of people seeking international protection (Bosworth & Turnbull, 2014). The focus on delinquency raises the issue of the “racialised deviant”, which represents migrants as a “problematic” population, but overlooks problematic state policies imposed at the expense of border crossers. A few hours later I headed to Moria camp in order to meet Yusuf, a 50-year-old Syrian border crosser. At the edge of a small road between the canteens and Moria’s main gate, Yusuf was waiting for me to come. In one hand he was holding a cigarette, and in the other hand, he was holding a small plastic bag. “You look like my daughter”, Yusuf told me with sadness. Yusuf was forcibly separated from his family in order to reach Europe. I am already one year here, and I am still waiting. I gave my interview, and I am still waiting. I am a Syrian. They told me that I will receive an answer in a 12 (Unformatted version, page numbers not final)