I was in a conversation with someone today who was talking about a lot of the topics I talk about, including systemic injustice. I was nodding along with her until she said something about people who came over now and get everything done for them. I'm grateful that it was a group conversation so I had the space to pause and process. Yes, I did hear her say that, and yes, I had to say something.
I pointed out that I wasn't seeing a crowd of people getting everything they wanted or needed; I was instead seeing families sleeping in airports in the middle of winter. I could have gone on, but there wasn't time. I pointed out that my father was an immigrant, as were two of my great-grandparents. What this person said didn't match what I saw and knew.
I have no idea whether I persuaded her or not; I didn't bring all of my citations and rhetoric with me. But it was my duty to say something, because it's something that comes up so much, and I don't want later generations to say that I was one of the many who stood by while people maligned refugees.
I don't believe god or any other deity is going to judge me in death, and truth be told, I don't think I'll be important enough for history to take too much note of me, except bundled in as a statistic. My opinion ultimately doesn't matter, but my silence does.
Deb in the City
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