When I was in my 20s, I thought people who had kids were nuts. Why would you do it? Give up the freedom, the money, the precious sleep? It was contrary to both reason and pleasure, and I was a big fan of both. But some things are bigger than reason, and I made the deal so many of us do. Who needs money and sleep when I can trade them for a noise machine that vomits in my hair? I’ll take two!
And then, right out of the box, when they’re shrieking and puking like a Courtney Love action figure, I realize that I must do everything in my power, make any sacrifice, do ANYTHING to protect this squishy damp siren* because I am madly in love it with, and now I need it. So I am a parent, and I make those choices. The same choices we all make, for the same reason- to protect our families, and provide the best life we can for our children.
We move to good neighborhoods, we choose school districts; we monitor our kids’ friends and environment, on the lookout for obstacles both physical and psychological. We are vigilant, responsible, comforting, and safe. Without even thinking too much about it, we keep our families secure by knowing and following the rules and minding the boundaries. As much as we can, we steer clear of the edges. Living in the home we know, being risk-averse is a way we take care of our children. A stable, functional environment where this approach works is a privilege we enjoy. We can go to horror movies about parents shepherding their families through relentless violence and chaos, if we have the stomach for that kind of thing.
For the families coming to our border seeking asylum, the opposite is true. To protect their families-- to do all things we strive to do for the same exact reasons-- they must take an unimaginable risk. They have to flee their homes and travel to an unknown land, praying that strangers will make a place for them. And they have to trust that one of the few nations on the planet founded on principles is as good as its word.
They have the right idea. After all, people who risked everything to make a better life for their families and their communities built this country. These immigrants, these asylum-seekers, have so much in common with us. They are moved by the same desire that made this nation come to life. They are like us.
For some, the idea of pressing this government to do the right thing- to be public with our revulsion over the treatment of these families- feels uncomfortable. Extortion is an ugly word. Fighting feels risky. But how we face this moment is not just about making these families whole again (though that would be reason enough), it is fighting for our country, too. When we speak up for them, we speak up for us. How profoundly un-American it would be to risk nothing in this moment, to look away from the parents whose dreams mirror our own. How wrongheaded it would be to think they are different from us at all.
*here, device on an emergency vehicle, not alluring boatwrecker.