I have volunteered to attend court proceedings in an immigration court where judges decide the future status of so many human beings desperately seeking an escape from their own beloved but conquered country to another more peaceful and sustaining life.
Before I even enter the building, I’m reduced to tears and questioning if I can really do this. A young girl maybe 5 or 6, has flung herself onto her father’s leg, desperately weeping and fearfully begging “papa papa”.
I turn away rapidly, facing the two of the other observers who immediately reassure ME, I got this, I can handle this.
Can I? My mind flashes back on all the clips people have recorded of the immense cruelty and violence of masked men when attacking unarmed womyn, children, and men in the name of tRump’s immigration policy backed by the fuckin Supreme Court – clips I cannot witness, actions that enrage and break my heart.
I keep my back turned, as I gather my strength to proceed through the glass doors into the ‘beautiful’ modern building where so much suffering is contained.
