Trump’s Concentration Camps

I try not to get too political on this blog for numerous reasons. One, I think everyone is entitled to their own opinions. I have friends and family who voted for Trump and think he is doing a fine job. I have friends and family who would have liked to see Obama serve a third and fourth and fifth term. And never the two shall see eye to eye. So I have a tendency to stay away from matters of politics. And religion. There is just no point in arguing some things with people because they are pretty much set in their thought patterns and you don’t typically change folks. But a friend of mine posted a meme the other day that said something along the lines of “if you don’t want families ripped apart, don’t try to cross the border illegally” and it had a picture of some men trying to scale a fence or a wall. And it kind of ran right through me and made me want to do all kind of cursing.

I remember the day my first born daughter started Kindergarten. I wondered how she would ever make it through the day without me. I knew that she would have teachers who loved their jobs looking after her, but a teacher couldn’t love her the way I could. I carried her for nine months. I felt her inside me. Her heartbeat and mine intertwined at times and they couldn’t be differentiated. I held her hand when she crossed the street. I carried her to her bed when she fell asleep. I pulled the hair out of her face and brushed the knots out of it while holding it in such a way that she didn’t cry when I brushed through it. Things only a mother will do for her child. And when my son came along, I remember thinking how lucky I was to have two beautiful, healthy, smart, and happy children. And then a few years later, another son. My biggest fear from the time they were born until now was that I would die and there would be nobody who would be able to take care of them and love them the way I could. I birthed them. I wanted to raise them. I wanted to be the one to bake the birthday cakes, to tuck them in, to go on field trips. I wanted to be the one who had to worry about making sure they had a decent life. I wanted to be the one to make sure they were protected and that nobody could or would hurt them. And for the most part, I have been successful.

And then I think about the 11,000 + children who have been ripped out of the arms of their parents and what they all must be feeling. The children, in a country where they don’t speak the language, they aren’t familiar with the kind of food they are being served, they are in cages and can’t go run and play like they were able to just a few short months ago. I think about the 2″ thick mats that they are laying on top of the concrete floor to sleep on. I think about the blankets that look like they are made out of aluminum foil. Not crocheted together like grandma used to make. I think of what the bigger kids must be telling the little ones. Do they think their parents are dead? Do they think they will be coming back? Do they think they will get to go home? Who is explaining this new world to them? Do they know what jail is like?

And I think about their parents, not dead, very much alive, being sent back across the border without their kids. Or being held in jails here not knowing where their children are. If they are being neglected or abused physically or sexually. And from what I know about what goes on in adult prisons in this country, I can almost guarantee that Trump’s child concentration camps are a pedophiles daydream.

And then I think about all the politicians and all the citizens of this so-called great nation who are behind the enforcement of this “law” that is being blamed over and over again on the “democrats” and honestly, I don’t give a flying fuck who made the law. What I care about is that there are parentless kids and kidless parents and it could be prevented. And I feel helpless because I don’t know what I can do. I’m not smart enough to be the leader of a revolution. I don’t have the money to pay anyone off. And I don’t think I know enough voodoo to start picking people off from here.

I feel helpless. And the more I see these children at these borders being treated like property, the more I fear for the kids of this country. Mine are almost grown, but what happens when these concentration camps start growing? And new laws start getting passed for any and every reason. What happens when the government starts pulling our children out of our arms and telling us we can’t have them back for (insert ridiculous reason here)?

I’ve always loved this country despite its sordid past, but I will not drink this kool-aid and there’s nothing anyone can say to ever make me think that what is happening now is at all moral, legal, or justified. And I’m sure there will be some who say, “if you don’t like it leave!” and for the most part, to those people, I say, “Fuck you!.” I shouldn’t have to leave my country just because I think humans should be treated with humanity. And I think that just because people chose to try to escape poverty, to try to give their children a better life, to try to come to the country that was founded on being a melting pot and being the land of opportunity until some selfish bastards decided that they didn’t want to share the land they stole, that doesn’t mean they should not be treated with humanity or dignity. It doesn’t mean they should have their children pulled out of their arms and piled up like dirty laundry in a baby jail. That is not the country I want to live in. But it’s also not the country I want to leave. It’s the country I want to change. I just don’t know where to start.

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