After leaving a play at The Lesher Center for the Arts, my husband and I sat not so patiently in a line of cars waiting to get out of the garage. As we chatted about the play, the audience, how much to pay the babysitter, we noticed a growing commotion at the front of one…
To believe I have culture shock is to believe that what is happening in Homestead, FL is not my culture. It is separate from me, from the world in which I live.
When I arrived at the Homestead Detention Center, as I have on every other morning, we went right over to the field to see the girls outside. The girls only seem to enjoy the field in the morning. Just as every other day, it was not long before security vehicles and guards joined us. We…
And yet, none of the children wear hats. They are in the same Florida sun on the same shadeless field. The children’s clothes are given to them by the detention center. So why no hats?
Even I could hear my own sharp intake of breath as I saw how young this boy was.
It is not just the words she spoke, but how she said them. It was the fear in her eyes as she looked around to see if anyone was watching her talk to us. It washer desperation that we get out her message, “What goes on inside there….horrible. Horrible.”
Their historic pain rings in my ears. Who am I, then, if I turn my back on children seeking asylum now?