Unmasking the "Alien"

By Jimena Ferrer

Growing up I saw you in the news, I saw you in my home, and now I see you behind bars The “illegal alien”

We share so many similarities

Our skin color, our language

Our roots, OUR ancestors

We come from the same land

whether it be stolen or preserved

We were born both under the same moon and sun

But what distinguishes us is the border which separates us

We share so much

We have the same blood running through our veins

Yet I am the citizen dignified of rights, while you are labeled alien

Not human, or even of this earth

I've seen many versions of you

The mother, the Dreamer, the fighter

I remember you trying to work and getting raided by ICE

I saw you dragged out of your car by police and pushed to the ground placed in handcuffs What did you do?

You wanted to drop your kids off at school with a broken taillight

I see the shame in your face when others laugh at your accent

“Speak English or go back” they say

Ignorantly disrespecting a language which has survived hundreds of years of genocide Nuestra lengua como miel se derrite en nuestras lenguas con rasgos dulces de nuestra cultura the sweet rhythm of our culture rolling off our tongues like the r’s we pronounce so smoothly Yet they don't see beauty, they see hate

We are raza, meaning we are family

Y entre la familia nos cuidamos

So, I visit you and am welcomed by the buzzing of the gate at the correctional facility I'm nervous as I wait for you to arrive through the other side

I don't know who I am expecting to see

I look across this plexiglass expecting to see a stranger

But I’m confronted with a mirror

A representation of how this country sees me and my people

When the government sees us both they see one enemy

One target

This could've been me, this could've been my mother

An illegal alien who is here to take jobs, a brown girl from the hood set up to fail We are seen with villainized lenses yet

What distinguished our life paths was our fate

A fate we couldn't control

Our birthplace

Being a brown person in America often comes with many systems of oppression You are the default steppingstone

Yet the privilege I hold with citizenship is the major difference in the treatment we receive Guilt is inevitable

The guilt I entered with, I leave with

That is because I can't leave with you

It is the same guilt I felt when I couldn't protect my own mother from ICE When I see you, I see myself

I see my mother

I see the cycle of trauma and pain that comes with separating families

You sit in your cell watching time pass you by

Your kids celebrate their birthdays in foster care

Your parents pass away while your detained

But you don't have the right to compassion because you're illegal

Because you are “the other”

This system doesn't see a refugee

It doesn't see a family man, a mother fighting for her children, a confused child It sees the color of your skin and the difference in your language

You are no longer human, you are aliens, you are disposable property used for labor until you are replaced by the endless number of immigrants who will continue to cross Unless you're a white immigrant of course, a favorable naturalized immigrant “A good immigrant”

Then you can overstay your visa as long as you'd like

I see you but they don't

GEO is 30 minutes from my home

You sit less than a foot away from me

Your voice restricted by the glass and broken phone connection

I hear you, yet they don't

People don't know your story, your living conditions

Your suffering, intentionally hidden from the media because they know the system is cruel

I always knew of your existence, even though I didn't personally know YOU I knew the difficulties of being undocumented, but I didn’t know YOUR experience Being the daughter of a formerly undocumented immigrant

You have sparked something in me, behind bars you have made a change One person in a cage is one too many, and until my people are free

Until there is a reform in the immigration system

Until racism is recognized in the immigration system

Until every last family is reunited

The fight is not over The fight for YOU is not over and the fire within la raza will never extinguish Our existence is resistance on its own, we are raza, somos familia