Thread:
When I was 12 my dad, a brick mason, hired a Mexican man named Acel to work manual labor for him. He was colleg educated and spoke English fluently. A month later he brought his 1/2 brother Ismael to the job and asked if he could work too. My dad obliged.
When I was 12 my dad, a brick mason, hired a Mexican man named Acel to work manual labor for him. He was colleg educated and spoke English fluently. A month later he brought his 1/2 brother Ismael to the job and asked if he could work too. My dad obliged.
Ismael didn’t speak English. He was a recent border crosser. The two men worked circles around the other guys and I spent the entire summer learning Spanish. I also learned that A only worked manual labor job so he could work with his brother and translate for him.
These two men we honest, hard working human beings trying to provide for their families. Their families were back in Mexico. They sent most of their money back to Mexico. They didn’t pay any federal taxes because my dad didn’t claim them as workers. All were breaking the law
When I was 14 my sister was sideswiped by a car and knocked unconscious . The driver didn’t check on her, instead he jumped out and ran away. He wasn’t license or insured and obviously didn’t know how to operate a vehicle.
When I was 18 I went to the unemployment office to register and find a job. When I entered my social security number I learned someone named Jose Martinez had already register with my birth date and SSN and was receiving unemployment benefits with it.
When I was 18 I went to work for a textile mill driving a hyster. I was the only white guy in my department. I made a fireable mistake my first week and the Mexican workers rushed to help me pick up my mess and keep my job. We ate lunch everyday family style with leftovers
While on that job, a month b4 I left for USMC I met an older Mexican man with 3 sons. One was in prison, one in Mexico and one was about to join the military. He talked to me everyday and mentored me on the job we shared. I was 18 he was 45+ we were peers.
8 years later When I was 26 after I lost my legs in Afghanistan and came back to my hometown to visit my parents. That Mexican man found my parents house and came to visit me. We cried and laughed together and spoke broken samples of each other’s languages.
This issue is complicated. Illegals are individually parents of Americans, they share in the struggles we all have, they’re human beings who are kind, love and care. But they’re also collectively a symptom of a bigger problem.
In many situations they aren’t held accountable, don’t invest in our society the way we want them to and live as outliers in clustered communities that inherently invite bad things and bad people to live among their shadow.
We are at a crossroads with this issue. We can’t ignore the policy but we mustn’t ignore the people. We can see the politicians motives for the bad they are and still see the human beings faces for the love they carry. Now more than ever we have to be honest about this issue
Being honest means not sticking to a partisan message. It means seeing the human aspects but also seeing the societal ones as well. It means making hard decisions for the common good without ignoring the very personal effects. We can do right by our sovereignty and our people.
And also extend an open arm to people who want to live how we live. Prosper through hard work and accountability and invest wholly in this freedom loving, diverse, amazing place we call home.
Wanting to secure the border that sees such a large influx of people isn’t racist. Wanting to include those same people into our society doesn’t have to be corrupt. We have to see each argument for the genuine experiences real people have to bring them to their conclusions.
