When I met Francisco Jose in El Salvador, we bonded over our love for our daughters, who are close in age. “I try to tell my kid a bedtime story each night,” I told him. “Me too,” he said. On this Father’s Day, I want to tell you about the stories Francisco tells his daughter... 
When we met, Francisco was getting his daughter ready to leave for the United States. She was 12 years old. That’s about the age that girls begin to be taken as property by the violent gangs that control El Salvador. That’s why he was sending her away.
theguardian.com/global-develop…
theguardian.com/global-develop…
If you don’t think a little girl who is fleeing the prospect of sexual slavery is deserving of asylum, then I do not know what to say to you. If you wouldn’t do everything you can to save your daughter from that plight, it's pointless for you to listen to the rest of this story.
Each night, Francisco told his daughter a story a little girl on a long journey north. “The girl is brave and obedient,” he would tell her. “Sometimes she must hide. Sometimes she must tell lies about who she is so that her journey can continue.”
“No matter what happens to her,” Francisco told his daughter, “the little girl must keep moving north. That is where she will finally become safe.”
Francisco’s daughter listened intently to her father’s stories about the little girl’s journey north. Sometimes she asked questions. Mostly, though, she just held her father’s hand tightly as she fell asleep.
When I asked Francisco when he and his daughter would leave, he looked confused. “I’m not going with her,” he said. “I know a coyote. I will give her to him. I have to trust him with her life.” Central American parents must do this. All the time. deseretnews.com/article/865680…
Getting a child out of Central America is a terribly expensive proposition. It is, in fact, prohibitive for most parents. Those who can cobble together the money are often unable to afford to send themselves, as well. And sometimes they must choose between children.
These children aren’t being sent to the United States for work. These parents simply want their children to live. The epidemic violence in Central America has its roots in the proxy wars of the 1980s. And it is absolutely horrific. dailynews.com/2015/09/12/on-…
Everyone who wants to get their children out of El Salvador wants to do it legally. But it’s nearly impossible to even get an appointment with the U.S. immigration office, and those who are often denied legal travel documents. nytimes.com/interactive/20…
Please understand this: The prospect that a 12-year-old girl might otherwise become a sex slave in her home country is not generally enough to get the U.S. government to approve her legal migration to the United States.
Under the circumstances, Francisco Jose didn’t feel he had any real choices. He would turn his daughter over to a human trafficker, and pray to God to one day see her again. After that, he would start saving the money to send his youngest son.
When we met last year, shortly before Father's Day, Francisco had already begun telling his seven-year-old son bedtime stories “about a little boy, on a journey north, who must be very brave.”
The Trump policy separating parents from their children on the U.S. border is cruel. But it’s not unusual. The new rules make family separation acutely visible, but this has been the de facto result of our immigration and asylum policies for a long time.
If the Trump policy ends, family separation will not end. Children will continue to be split from their parents in horrific circumstances. And, to prepare, Central American parents will tell their children bedtime stories that are the subject of many of our worst nightmares.
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