Greetings! I hope everyone had a terrific holiday weekend, however you celebrated. My daughter and I had the good fortune to spend a few days with longtime friends. Endless food and drinks. Ritual viewing of various horror movies – a special time for my daughter who loves creepy films. And of course, much football with the highlight being Michigan’s victory over Ohio State. Go Blue!
This downtime has made re-entry into reality difficult. I was smacked out of my relaxed mode by a headline in the Philadelphia Inquirer (paraphrased) – “Anticipated 47,000 city residents to be deported under Trump’s plan”. 47,000 – that is the size of my hometown when I was growing up.
If my hometown suddenly disappeared, people would probably notice. How will we mark this in Philadelphia? 47,000 represents about 3% of the city’s population. Yet as is true across the country, that 3% includes construction workers, shop owners, gardeners, caregivers, waiters, mechanics, cleaners, and students. They pay taxes, participate in community events, worship in religious organizations. In other words, they are part of the very fabric of this city.
Go about an hour south of the city, to the Kennett Square area, and you are deep in the mushroom capital of the U.S. All harvested by migrant farmworkers. Swing out to the eastern shore and you are in poultry processing country, where the chickens are treated better than the workers who are overwhelming immigrants. In both regions, immigrants have settled, raised families, built communities. They are vital to the economics of these areas. I imagine these areas will be prime targets under the Trump deportation plan.
None of this is unique to my part of the country. Indeed, it will likely be worse for cities like New York or Los Angeles, and certainly for industries such as the agricultural sector. Yet so effectively have Trump and his minions demonized immigrants that there is a collective unwillingness to see their contributions, let alone their humanity.
The anticipation of the mass deportation already has had a chilling effect. I learned today of an organization on Long Island that helps to house or find housing for undocumented workers and their families. The agency has shut down this program, leaving already vulnerable people without shelter. Closer to home, as I’ve mentioned before, my daughter is terrified of the impending raids and round-ups. She always carries citizenship documentation with her and knows to seek sanctuary from a religious organization if she needs protection. Lin understands what far too many voters did not – the deportation sweeps will grab everyone who looks a certain way.
There have been numerous articles on the negative impact this deportation plan will have on various sectors of the economy. In all likelihood, we will see a rise in prices especially for poultry, eggs, fruits, and vegetables. But for me, the real impact is the communal one. These kinds of efforts pit neighbor against neighbor, shredding neighborhoods along the way. It will manifest through closed shops, lack of assistance in nursing homes, or empty chairs in classrooms. The terrific hole-in-the-wall eatery that makes the best tacos, salsas, and flan will disappear. Once these people, and all they contribute, are gone there’s no getting them back. We all will be poorer because of this.
I don’t have remedies to fix this. I do know that a vast network of immigrant rights groups is working tirelessly to advise and protect. But this has the feeling of the child who tried to stop the leak in a dam by sticking their finger in the hole. Sooner or later the dam breaks.
I do think we need to continue to raise the alarm, push dialogues on the impacts of this deportation, discuss with students, co-workers, neighbors, and anyone who will listen that it is time to pick sides (if one hasn’t already). We either act in ways that offer and extend sanctuary or we give in to this dystopian vision. I don’t see a middle ground.
In solidarity,
Cheryl (chair@acosa.org)