this morning i saw something i have never seen before.
on my block, in my tiny neighborhood, was an ice raid. my house sits on a dead end street that runs perpendicular with another dead end street. essentially, the residents on those two streets were blocked in and unable to leave. neighbors were confused. adults were trying to get to work. kids were getting ready for school. i was in my car with my husband and baby doug as drew asked the ice officer if there was anything that could be done to get us out, as i had a flight to catch. the officer looked at us closely. my eyes were glued to the incredibly large automatic weapon that was strapped to his chest. he tapped it lightly as he looked at us. he was calm, friendly. my heart raced, frantic. silent, i strained a smile. he looked at my clothes, my wedding rings, my hair and make up. he examined drew the same way. then he radioed the other officers and they created space for us to leave. they made an exception to let us out. an exception that i have no doubt in my mind, had to do with the color of my skin and the seemingly “nice” things the officer was so obtusely assessing about my appearance. nice white couple. jean jacket. big blue eyes. family car. no threat. as we drove the short distance to the main street, i looked at the other police officers, detectives and members of ice. it was terrifying. they had spotlights on a large house where no doubt multiple families of hispanic descent live. lived. there were loud bomb-like sounds coming from inside the house. i assume they were attempting to smoke the families out but i can’t know for certain. i heard no screams. saw no one leaving. only officers going in. but i only saw one part of this picture. i can’t begin to imagine what was happening on the other side of the door. children live there. i know that. moms and dads. sisters and brothers. families. no different from the one in the car with me. they said it was going to be a while. that’s what they told us. an apology for the inconvenience. i wonder if anyone is going to apologize to the families being torn apart in that house? an apology for causing the fear in those kids? an apology for barging in and physically removing people from their home. that seems like a bigger inconvenience to me. i know they came here illegally. i know they broke the rules. and i like rules. rules keep us safe. they keep things fair. but as i drove to the airport i couldn’t see the fairness in what i had just witnessed. perhaps it’s because of innocence of the children involved. perhaps it’s because of the families. and perhaps it’s because there isn’t anything fair about it. my parents taught me that righting a wrong with another wrong isn’t doing right at all. that’s what this feels like to me. it was wrong for them to break the rules. i know it was. they should have followed the rules. but as i watched my baby boy sleeping in the backseat i thought about how there isn’t a single thing i wouldn’t do to ensure his safety. i watched my husband as he drove us. my family. my whole world. we forget the privilege we have to have been born in this country. into these opportunities. and i know that if my family didn’t have these opportunities i’d be hauling ass to get to a place of safety and freedom. for them. and even this direction-following list-making goody-two-shoes would break and bend any rules to ensure those opportunities for my son. and i wouldn’t be surprised if you would too. i have privilege. i show no threat. i offer no reason for fear. no cause for questioning. i was reminded of that this morning. my heart aches. it hurts because i don’t have a solution to offer for this problem. i can’t think of a way to fix things. to right a wrong with right. in a manner in which everyone is respected and treated with dignity. in a way that doesn’t cause the break up of families. in a way where no one gets hurt. the shooting in el paso a few months ago was the largest and deadliest attack against latinos in modern us history. 53 people died last month alone from mass shootings. 53 who the hell cares if they were legal or not? this can’t keep happening. this can’t become the normal. the status quo. the terrible thing that, “just happens but what can we do?” today i saw with my own eyes what i had previously only seen on the news. it wasn’t bloody or noisy. i know of no casualties. officers were nothing but pleasant to my family. but that doesn’t make it less wrong. there will be empty seats in classrooms today. young players missing soccer practice or ballet. there will be children who go to sleep tonight without their parents. my child will go to bed without me tonight, as i travel. but his circumstances are much different. and that is his privilege. our privilege. my privilege. and i may be the white lady with a nice manicure who no one sees as a trouble maker but i will not be silent about what i saw. they came early. before the sun was up. they were quiet. no fuss. no mess. they didn’t want to turn heads. ruffle feathers. make waves. but they shook something in me. and i haven’t stopped shaking since. and i don’t think i will for a long time.
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