For I Was Hungry, (Archive)

In the sweltering sun of southern Mexico, a column is advancing.

It is made up of almost 4,000 Central Americans who walk 30 miles per day. Their feet are bruised and blistered, and they have many injuries.  Overcome by respiratory problems, some hack incessantly. They sleep in the streets, and scrounge for food wherever they can. Many of them require medical attention, but there is none to be found. Mothers carry their children, even as they succumb to twisted ankles and other problems. Every day, the group is stalked by police, hunger, thirst, and angry locals. Frustration, exhaustion and pain are dominant sentiments in the caravan. And yet, they keep walking.

One man from the caravan said in an interview with Shephard Smith Reporting: “I feel very bad. All my body is hurting. I can’t stand. But we can’t give up […] Watch the report here

No one would undertake such a strenuous journey, except as a last resort. The violence, poverty, and lawlessness that plagues Central American countries like Honduras, Guatemala and El Salvador is well-documented. These people are coming to us because they seek relief, comfort, and asylum from the brutal realities of their impoverished homelands. And yet, we have seen these desperate refugees likened to animals, and branded a hoard of invaders. Over 5,000 professional soldiers have been sent to meet a group of men, women and children. Campaign ads here in Tennessee have capitalized on this fear-mongering.

“Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses, yearning to breathe free.” This is one of our most iconic quotes. It is emblazoned on the copper of the Statue of Liberty, and immortalized in our national narrative. For centuries, America has asserted itself as a City on the Hill, a place of refuge. America is the home of freedom, the sanctuary of liberty. That is our identity. That is what we value.

Where are those ideals now?

The caravan is the personification of those huddled masses. In it are parents fighting so that their children can have a brighter future, young adults just out of college, and hard-working laborers and artisans who dream of something more. They all want the same thing: greener pastures, and a better life. In other words, they are regular people, like you or me.

I want all of you to take a moment to put yourself in the shoes of the people in the caravan. Imagine that poverty hamstringed your every effort, that brutal violence plagued your community. Imagine that you can barely keep your children safe, let alone feed them. Imagine a place where the police won’t help you, and the government ignores your suffering. What if this was you? What would you do if you lived in a place where your life was in constant danger, where death lingered around every corner? If you had a chance to escape, wouldn’t you?

In fact, many of our ancestors did. There is good chance that you are the descendent of people who fled war, violence, and anarchy. Our country is the product of people who sought out a better life. Our country is a diverse and vibrant place, but it might not have been if we had not allowed those people, our ancestors, to enter.

In these uncertain times, there is nothing more important than a sense of empathy and understanding. As the caravan inches closer to the US-Mexico border, I want you all to ponder on these questions, and try to perceive the human dimensions of the caravan. I want you to remember that these are people. They are human beings, and they have a right to dignity, life, and the pursuit of happiness. Their suffering shouldn’t be the butt of SNL jokes, and their plight shouldn’t be trivialized by news media.  

Our president, his cabinet, and anyone who brands the caravan as terrorists are in dangerous moral waters. It is a fearful prospect that we are opting to meet a few thousand sick, starving and exhausted asylum seekers with an overwhelming force of over five thousand troops. It is terrifying that President Trump believes the casting of one stone merits the response of gunfire, that our powerful army should be used to suppress the weak and needy.

The migrant caravan will reach our Southern border in the coming weeks. It will constitute one of the biggest challenges to the nativist dogma our president has venomously spouted. My enduring hope is that his hateful rhetoric will not translate into mass bloodshed.