This past week I was blessed to coordinate a service trip to El Paso, Texas to learn about issues surrounding immigration into the United States. Our host site was at the Annunciation House, an organization which cares for immigrants in their transition into the United States. The Annunciation House cares for those who have crossed the border without documents, those seeking asylum, and those collecting their social security benefits. The Annunciation House has four locations: Annunciation House, Casa Vides, Nazareth, and Casa Teresa. The main house is open to migrants who are in need of a place to stay while working towards their next step, Casa Vides houses those who need a longer stay, Nazareth houses migrants who are seeking asylum and need a place to stay for a day or two before moving on to their next stop, and Casa Teresa hosts the administrative offices. Everything at Annunciation House is run by volunteers who receive no kind of monetary benefit and volunteers only have their basic needs met. The house is funded purely on donations, yet everything still works. The reason that I go into such detail about the workings of the house is that the work being done is remarkable and incredibly necessary.
This summer, there was a large exodus of migrants from Central America (Honduras, Guatemala, and El Salvador) who were fleeing violence. In order to account for this the United States government opened a detention center named Artesia which is located in a remote area of New Mexico. The average age of detainees there is six years old and the detainees are primarily women and children. This means that many people who are simply entering the United States to flee the violence in their home countries are being locked up in the middle of the desert. Because the detention center in Artesia was at capacity and ICE was out of solutions, Annunciation House was able to step in and care for those seeking asylum. Though many Americans may think that those seeking asylum aren't running from true strife, it is interesting to note that of the five cases that have actually been carried from start to finish out of Artesia with proper legal representation have been granted asylum. These people are fleeing their homes because they fear for their lives and we "open our arms" by locking them up with their children in the desert. This treatment is far from humane and far from just.
The worst part of much of this is that the violence these people face is created by an industry the United States has generated: the drug industry. Americans love weed, cocaine, heroine, and many other drugs and Central and South American drug cartels are more than happy to provide for our addictions. The cartels will do whatever they can to gain power and this means oftentimes murdering the people of their countries to gain turf. The governments in these countries lack power which means the drug cartels are at liberty to do as they please. By using drugs recreationally, Americans are putting the lives of others in danger. If you choose to use drugs, I urge you to understand that you have blood on your hands and a high is not worth that truth.
I was also able to learn this week that there is essentially no legal way for an immigrant to enter the United States simply looking for work. If an immigrant worker was even considered for a Visa it could easily take decades before that is granted. Our economy relies on these migrant workers and our farms would not be sustained if these human beings did not enter our country. The least we could do is provide them with a fair, legal pathway to citizenship and/or entry into our country. Instead, we force them to migrate illegally. Those who are caught migrating in the dark through the desert in search for work are prosecuted as criminals and deported with any chance of entering our country legally eliminated.
While I am not trying to preach, I am trying to make a point. I realized just how privileged I am to be a white United States citizen this week. To have been born in Omaha, NE may be one of the luckiest moments of my life. I do not have to fear for my life as I leave my home and I currently have three jobs available to me for money. I do not have to fear that I will be discriminated against racially when I reach the Border Patrol checkpoint outside of El Paso. I do not feel guilty for this privilege, but I do feel that it gives me a much larger responsibility. I am responsible for ensuring that my brothers and sisters in Mexico and Central America are treated humanely and justly. If Jordan, one of the poorest countries in Eastern Europe, can receive millions of refugees from Syria, why are we unable to receive thousands of refugees from the south?
My community is not only those who are able to claim they are United States citizens. My community is the many human beings of this planet. If caring for my community means fighting a hard battle to gain just, humane immigration reform, I will do it. If caring for my community means sharing or giving of my belongings, I will do it. If caring for my community means breaking boundaries, I will do it. My community is what truly matters in this temporal, earthly life, and I shall care for and treasure it with my whole being.
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