When you say about a mother that the only reason she came to this country was to “drop an anchor baby,” what you mean is: that woman is an animal and could not possibly love her child the way I love my child.
My pal Antonio is an undocumented farm laborer, horse whisperer and superhero. He can clear an acre of brush in a single day with a machete and talk a psychotic horse down off the ceiling.
The other day the cops pulled him over for no reason, impounded his car, and threw him in jail. He was late for work and got in trouble with his boss.
His honky boss, for whom he has worked since leaving Mexico at the age of 17, is invested in keeping him dependent because he couldn’t run his farm without his indentured labor. Antonio owes him thousands of dollars for dental work that insurance would have paid for if he’d been a documented worker. His boss takes most of his paycheck to pay for the dental work, leaving him to live on $30 a week. He lets Antonio live in a crumbling old house on the property, but he won’t let him fix the bathroom or the furnace because then he’d have to pay taxes on a habitable dwelling. His boss has told him that he thinks of Antonio “like family.”
“But,” Antonio observes, “my boss’s daughter don’t live in no shithole casa.”
Such a common occurrence - the story of a person who is American in every way but by law.
One day when I was 16, I rode my bike to the nearby D.M.V. office to get my driver’s permit. Some of my friends already had their licenses, so I figured it was time. But when I handed the clerk my green card as proof of U.S. residency, she flipped it around, examining it. “This is fake,” she whispered. “Don’t come back here again.”
Confused and scared, I pedaled home and confronted Lolo. I remember him sitting in the garage, cutting coupons. I dropped my bike and ran over to him, showing him the green card. “Peke ba ito?” I asked in Tagalog. (“Is this fake?”) My grandparents were naturalized American citizens — he worked as a security guard, she as a food server — and they had begun supporting my mother and me financially when I was 3, after my father’s wandering eye and inability to properly provide for us led to my parents’ separation. Lolo was a proud man, and I saw the shame on his face as he told me he purchased the card, along with other fake documents, for me. “Don’t show it to other people,” he warned.
This is everything wrong with our capitalist system all wrapped up into one horror story:
As a result of being in jail and being accused of being a thief, [the plaintiff] lost her home, her car, all of her personal belongings and her husband was deported. [She] seeks punitive damages for loss of income, loss of personal property, lost profits, lost time and imprisonment, libel and slander, mental anguish, intentional infliction of emotional distress, false arrest, malicious prosecution, slander, negligence and conversion.
The final insult to all of this, according to the lawsuit, is that after the plaintiff had been cleared of theft charges, Walmart refused to refund the $2.90 she had paid for the neck bones.
“Brisenia Flores, a nine year old girl, was murdered in Arizona, was shot by a group of anti-immigrant vigilantes. They forced their way into her home looking to steal money for drugs to be used to finance a citizen border protection organization.
They killed her father, wounded her mother and then killed the nine year old for reasons that still make no sense. Basically, it was a group of anti-immigrants who killed a little Latina girl to pay for their anti-immigrant activities.