A Child’s Cry

Guest blogger: Alondra Saldivar, law student, University of San Francisco:

Throughout my own upbringing, as the eldest child of immigrants, I noticed why certain activities were off-limits to the family, why our family was split in Mexico and the United States, and why I did not know many of my cousins. My parents never explicitly told me they did not have legal status, but I picked it up relatively fast. A child is often more aware than we think, that is why it is so important to listen and know of the difficulties many immigrant children face. It is unjust that in the United States, a country that prides itself on being the land of opportunity, denies so many families, and innocent children an opportunity.

That is why I want to share the story of one particular child, Javier, whom I met in 2019, in Nogales, Sonora – because I feel it is important to share his story far and wide, as a reminder of the effects the policies and decisions made in rooms far removed from the actual folks that are suffering. Javier was seven, traveling with his mother and sister, and had experienced trauma while attempting to cross the border and during the deportation process. From the three of them he was the one coping best with the tragedy that had befallen them, as his sister was visibly detached from the situation and had trouble grasping the reality of where she was. His mother was in a high state of shock and it was a miracle that they had found their way to us. Based on the few things that I was able to understand from his mother and sister, it became highly likely that they had been raped and that Javier had heard or seen what had happened. It broke my heart to see such a young child have to assume the burdensome role of caretaker for his family. Javier was adamant that they not return to the desert or attempt to get to the United States again. He was afraid to even leave the organization, every time a phone rang, or someone new came to the door he would start to shake and his eyes would well up with tears. At one point his mother was on the phone with her husband who was in the United States, who was encouraging her to have them travel again. When Javier realized what the conversation was about he started screaming and crying, falling to his knees, pleading that they not go anywhere. He kept looking over at his sister, who was sitting in the corner of the room silently. His mom was also crying, and was having a hard time keeping up with the conversation. They were ultimately only with the organization for two days, but Javier taught me the strength of conviction and courage. In an effort to calm him amongst all the uncertainty, I offered him a coloring book and whilst witnessing the happiest of smiles, I saw his fear, but also his confidence in everything being resolved. He immediately opened his coloring book, and began coloring, talking to me as he picked out the colors he was going to use. I saw him transform back into an innocent seven year old. His tears dried, and when he finished coloring, I saw him go to the corner of the room and pray. He did the sign of the cross, put his hands together, and closed his eyes. He was so fervent, and when he opened his eyes I could see hope, lots of it. Even amongst the worst situation, one that was forced on him, and that he should not have ever had to endure, especially not at the age of seven – he had strength and courage. There was too heavy a burden on his shoulders, but his childlike hope was at least still alive.

But, the United States must do better. These are situations that the United States could do a better job of not pushing folks into. The United States needs to hear the child’s cry and acknowledge that the policies affect real people and lives, and that whenever there is a discussion about change, individuals, names, and faces need to be considered – immigration is not an area that can be painted with broad strokes.

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