We Need Change

Our country is creating an entire generation of people who will become resentful of it. We are putting children in cages, detaining entire families, and alienating those who have so much to contribute.

Ask anyone, and they will tell you I am forgiving to a fault. I have gone through great lengths to justify when someone has treated me unjustly and while I don’t let go of things easily, I will always be there for anyone — even if they have wronged me. I have made excuses for this country. I have forgiven America over and over again for its actions. America made me turn against my own parents when I blamed them for bringing me here my senior year of high school after realizing I wouldn’t be able to go to the college I wanted to attend.

But recently I have realized that America is not, and never will be, for me. This year, I have sat in classes and have found myself in a cold sweat as I learned all of the ways that the legal system was made to keep me and my family low on the totem pole. Every time I read or hear the word “alien” while preparing for and sitting in class, I am reminded that before the eyes of the law, that is all I will ever be — an alien. And no matter if 20 or 30 years from now I become a legal permanent resident, or a citizen, I will always remember the fear I felt on November 9, 2016 after Trump was elected — the possibility of my parents being taken from our home even more likely than ever before, until, eventually, it became a reality. I will always remember how my family was treated in April of 2019 — how my little brother was handcuffed, how the officer kept tightening my father’s wrists to the point of injury, how my mother pleaded with the arresting officer to be allowed to keep driving home.

I grew up afraid of my parents not answering the phone, every second of silence that passed taking me closer and closer to hysteria as I pictured what my life would be like if my parents had to go to a detention center or be deported. On April 2nd, that omnipresent nightmare became a reality. At 5 a.m. I got a call from my father who never calls me because he hates phone calls. Before I could even really wake up, I knew what had happened. I heard the panic and sadness in his voice as he said, “Hi, we were driving…” and as he kept speaking, I started sobbing, crying as if a piece of me had died.

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