In late June, I traveled to Harlingen, Texas, to witness firsthand the ongoing human rights emergency in McAllen, Brownsville, and along the border. I anticipated feelings of sadness and anger, but I was completely unprepared for the overwhelming reality that awaited me.
It was far worse than I expected. How can I convey that in my own country — the United States, often celebrated as the land of the free — we are treating fellow human beings, including children, as if they are disposable? How do I explain this to my family, friends, and colleagues who have witnessed some of the world’s most severe humanitarian crises?
My group, which included leaders from prominent children’s organizations, was denied access to a facility run by the Office of Refugee Resettlement (ORR), often referred to as detention centers by critics. Although we had submitted all necessary paperwork, we were told the tours might distress the children. However, the accounts shared by the lawyers and medical professionals we met revealed far more distressing situations for the kids.
There was a 13-year-old girl pregnant from rape, a 1-year-old boy inconsolable over the sight of a banana — the only food offered that day was a bologna sandwich. A woman who had been kidnapped by a drug cartel after losing her 8-year-old daughter detailed her harrowing experience, including months of insufficient medical care. Babies who have spent more of their lives in detention than outside, learning to walk and talk while confined. An 8-year-old girl regressing to the point of asking to be breastfed. A mother who risked everything for her three young children watched helplessly as her 3-year-old son drowned in the Rio Grande, unable to save him as she clutched her other two children.
The poignant line from Warsan Shire’s poem Home, which addresses the plight of Syrian refugees, rings true here: “No one puts their children in a boat unless the water is safer than the land.” No parent embarks on a perilous journey unless they are fleeing something far worse. Upon reaching the border, families approach in fear and trauma, seeking asylum, only to find themselves met with indifference from U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents.
I witnessed a mother and her 5-year-old son from Honduras, lost and frightened, until our group formed a protective circle around them, despite ICE agents insisting we keep moving. In juvenile immigration court, I observed 11 unaccompanied minors; only two had legal representation. One young girl, just 9 years old, returned to court again without a lawyer. The judge offered her a chance for a special hearing, contingent on her obtaining representation the next time.
The most heartbreaking case was a 16-year-old boy who, lacking representation, requested voluntary return to Guatemala, forfeiting his asylum claim. When asked if he felt safe returning, he replied, “No.” These children, some of whom have been separated from their parents for years, were entering court alone, confused, and terrified.
What I witnessed were human beings — parents, children — who are facing punishment simply for not being born in the U.S. According to a local civil rights attorney, they are subjected to “an avalanche of punishments” and treated like lesser beings. It’s time we recognize individuals like Maria and others — whose names have been kept anonymous for protection — as our fellow human beings and ensure every child has access to legal representation.
We must support organizations like the CARA Pro Bono Project, which acts as a vital legal resource for families in detention centers like the Dilley facility, the largest immigrant detention center in the U.S. Ending family detention is crucial; Alternatives to Detention cost taxpayers $36 per day for an entire family compared to $300 for detention, and $775 for a separated child. We must release these families and allow children the opportunity to experience life outside of confinement.
Let’s provide pregnant women the chance to choose trusted healthcare providers and address the root causes of their migration, including violence and poverty in their home countries. At the very least, we should teach our children compassion and the importance of action. It’s as simple as asking, “What if this were my family?”