In the last week I have heard so many horror stories that I keep waiting for the walls to bleed (although, to be fair, my house is in such terrible shape, I’m kind of expecting that.) Unfortunately the horror is coming from within my own country.
I am afraid. I have very real fear, not just because the entire country seems to be roiling with varying levels of crazy (like as of July 1, it will be be legal to discriminate against homosexuals in Mississippi)
Today I participated in a march protesting the separation of families at the border.
It actually makes my brain stop (neurons slowing down, complete and total inability to interact with multiple stimuli) when I try to process this.
Our Vice-President, Mike Pence, actually said, ” “Let me be clear: The United States is the most welcoming home for immigrants in human history,” Pence told pool reporters. “We are proud of this legacy. But we are also proud to be a nation of laws and a nation with recognized and respected international borders.
Don’t risk your lives or the lives of your children by trying to come to the United States on the road run by drug smugglers and human traffickers,” Pence continued. “If you can’t come legally, don’t come at all.”
Really? What happened to the whole reason people came to this country in the first place?
Today I saw several people peacefully marching in protest of the current situation that our country is perpetrating, the separation of families at the border of Mexico and the US.
The arguments range from the “They’re taking our jobs!” to “If they weren’t breaking the law, they wouldn’t lose their children.”
Children are in cages. They are being detained in camps. I know the US has a history of dividing families, Japanese Internment Camps, Slavery, Native American’s sent to boarding schools, but we also have a history of botulism and polio. We stopped that because it was terrible.
The worst thing about this is that the divide is showing me where people stand.
For many years I have been the holder of secrets (No not in formal, here’s the tiny cedar chest, hide it in your closet, you are magic way, but wouldn’t that be cool?) For some reason, people unload their emotional baggage on me. I have never betrayed those secrets, from the very minor embarrassing middle name of a guitar player I know to a secret that I pretend I don’t know because it does make me think about that person a little differently.) I don’t like knowing the secrets but I am finding that I like knowing who people really are a whole lot less. I know that I am making people uncomfortable with my loud stance on the current situation (I probably shouldn’t have smacked myself on the head with the book about the US rescuing thoroughbred horses from Nazi Germany, shrieking, “What?! WE saved the damn horses before we saved children?” The other shoppers at Sam’s didn’t appreciate it, although it didn’t even slow the kiosk people down.)
What is making me uncomfortable is knowing that I may lose people I truly love because of the divide.
Yes, I am American (third generation) but I am made of Mexican parts. I am terrified that my citizenship is not going to matter.