The horrible irony of fleeing to america

And then having to flee from america....

It was 2018 when I met John and Jane (not their real names) when they were living in Sanctuary, hoping to avoid deportation. The church congregation and others from surrounding communities provided a humane and compassionate welcome for John, Jane and their young daughter. The family lived in Sanctuary for eight long months and when they were finally cleared to leave and be officially entered into the asylum process, we celebrated and breathed a collective sigh of relief that they had a chance to cooperate and take all necessary steps toward becoming citizens in a country that held their precious hopes and dreams.

John and Jane opened a small restaurant business. They were productive, tax paying members of their town. We stopped in as often as we could not only to enjoy their food but to visit and catch up on how they were doing. John worked seemingly endless hours but was always a gracious host and always expressed his appreciation for the support of so many people who would be proud to be his neighbor. The details of their asylum saga were never discussed during our short restaurant visits but John always spoke of hope. He ALWAYS spoke of hope.

John and Jane’s business was successful and we shared their hope for their future here. And then came the current administration who threatens millions of people with being hunted down, detained, incarcerated god knows where and deported. Suddenly, families across the country had to weigh the pros and cons of staying here, taking their chances that they would escape the bounty hunters’ dragnet vs leaving of their own accord, thus avoiding the horrible possibilities of separation and possibly languishing in some hell hole either here or in another country.

We had a taste for John and Jane’s cooking recently and called to place our order. After the phone rang for what seemed like a very long time, there was a message that the restaurant was closed for renovations and would re-open soon. Something didn’t feel right. My partner drove by the business over the weekend and found the windows covered and no information about renovations, a new opening date or anything else. The red flags now screamed in our brains.

I reached out to the church where John and Jane had received such kind care via email, sharing our concerns and asking for any information that was appropriate to share. Within 2 hours I received news that momentarily robbed me of my ability to breathe. Fearing all of the possible consequences of staying here and continuing their quest for asylum, my friends chose to self-deport. My friends chose to return to a place from which they fled in the first place because suddenly that place was a better alternative to taking their chances here. Please let that sink in. Returning home was deemed preferable to remaining here in the united states.

I have not fully slept or relaxed or felt joyful about very much since receiving this heartbreaking news. I can’t stop imagining the conversations that John and Jane had before making their decision or how they shared that news with their family and other loved ones, now caught up in a life of separation from each other for an untold length of time. I know I can’t begin to imagine the family trauma resulting from this situation. What were the last hugs goodbye like? What are John and Jane doing now, so far from their family and the life they attempted to build here? Are they working? Are they safe? Do they still hold hope?

What I do know for sure is that the country we now live in has literal and untold emotional blood on its hands. It has devolved into a place of cruelty for cruelty’s sake that no longer offers hope but rather fear. How ugly does a place have to be for people to decide to return to what drove them here to begin with? I have come to believe that this country is now consumed in ugliness.

I haven’t used John’s and Jane’s real names out of respect for their privacy and safety but I ask you now to hold them close to your hearts, to think of them often and to move forward in the fight for decency IN THEIR NAMES.