Beyond the Stadium: What “Together We Are America” Means for the Families Left Behind.
I found myself at a walk up apartment sitting on a leather couch next to two little girls and their mom who was holding a baby. The apartment smelled wonderful. Lavender Fabuloso scented the room. Unmistakable to me, reminding me of my mother and the fact that I hadn’t cleaned my own house this week. This mom had her home spotless. The cleaning product surely had hit every surface. I sighed thinking of all the things I’d let slide at home. Above me on the wall was an image of La Virgin De Guadalupe with her hands in prayer. The family had left some Christmas lights around her and I imagined at night it looked beautiful in the center of the room. Mom had left other Christmas decorations up. She said it cheered her up. But as we spoke, I realized they’ve been frozen in time. Outside the world was moving onto Valentines day. The father had been detained a week before the holiday. Inside this apartment it was still December.
I asked the mom if we could speak privately at first, and she agreed, shuffling the children to their rooms. We moved into the small kitchen area and I opened my lap top to prepare. First the usual consent form. I’m a community consultant. Not a counselor today. Today, we will discuss options. The children have lost their father to the detention center. Picked up by ICE not for committing a crime. For reporting into his scheduled meeting after following all the rules. Having a work permit, doing things the right way. The legal way. Having a lawyer who helped with the process. Yet it was not enough. Now the children call their father for a few minutes a week on an app that they pay a lot of money per minute to tell him goodnight. Weeks have gone by and no visits. They can’t risk it. They can’t trust a system that would do this.
“Can you give my Daddy a hug from me?” Her brown eyes looked at me pleading.
“Of course I will, honey. I’m gonna go see him soon. Do you want me to tell him anything?”
“Tell him that I love him. Tell him that I miss him.” She rubbed beneath the frame of her dark blue glasses. Those brown eyes now full of tears.
“Absolutely I will tell him. I’ll make sure he’s okay and if he needs anything we will help him.”
I took a breath. Thinking about my own daughters. The heart ace they would feel if their dad was taken from them and weeks had gone by without being able to see him. Hold his hand. I don’t know if I can help this family. The grief, trauma, ongoing fear they have to endure on a daily basis feels like a tsunami and all I have is my laptop. Some forms for them to read, a consent form to sign, a whistle kit, and such few resources. Her dad is going to be deported. She might never see him again. My brown eyes filled with tears. But I wasn’t here to cry.
“I’m gonna see you soon. We are working on some good plans so you guys can start to feel safe.” I say to her and myself. Stick to the plan. Provide what mom needs. Give her information so she can make informed decisions. There are more deportation orders for this family and linking them to support is critical.
My companion who met me despite the freezing cold is encouraging. She helps me translate and communicate with mom when the words jumble. We talk, plan, and think out loud. Leave her important forms. As we gather to leave the Fabuloso no longer smelled as strongly and the staircase that leads down reminded me of the many steps ahead. My companion and I need to communicate with the other moms and community friends to work on resources. Coordinate a trip to Delany Hall in Newark and a flurry of messages needed to happen.
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Sunday evening I sat on my couch across from my husband anxiously waiting for Bad Bunny’s performance at the Super Bowl. Tired of all the negative posts and criticisms. Hearing about people close who support ICE. The Tsunami rising. Then the performance began.
At that moment, I was transported. Lost in the joy of the moment, hit with all the things I love. The music, the dancing, the people, the strength. Benito giving his Grammy to Liam Ramos was incredibly up lifting. It reminded me that anything is possible and that the ‘WE’ in Together We Are America absolutely includes the families in walk-up apartments, the fathers in detention, and the children waiting behind dark blue glasses. There are millions of us fighting against this injustice, and in that joy, I found the strength for the many steps ahead.
P.S. Our community group is currently raising funds to help families like this one navigate legal fees and basic needs while they are ‘frozen in time.’ If you found strength in this blog posts message of ‘Together We Are America,’ please consider being the ‘WE’ that supports them here: Rapid Response https://venmo.com/u/Morristowntogether