We Cry, We Dance (Wir weinen, wir tanzen)

Today we cried. And then we danced. A room of virtual strangers and yet it was a safe enough environment for some of us to break down and confess our hardships and oppression that had riddled our lives. 

I've recently been really into sociology and one of my favorite classes so far has been a race class. I know, hot topic. And as we circled around in preparation for another one of our dreaded group discussions, I was wholly unprepared for what went down: truth.I think none of us really want to indulge in the issue of immigration because of the palpable division each side strongly assert: those who are antis are regarded as racists who want to "make America great again" by ridding the U.S. soil of, criminals they would say, unwilling to follow the law by doing the right thing, waiting their turn as others have regarding citizenship. Very un-American they might argue, just jumping borders and taking up all the resources and abusing this country (and let's face it, in this day and age, there are many "undocumented immigrants from all parts of the world currently residing in the U.S., but only the Hispanics, the Latino/as, the Chicanos get the heat). And on the opposite realm are those who would be labelled as good for nothing "liberals", who do not believe in such thing as an "alien" human, urging the U.S. to once again be a lead world power in regards to human rights and set an example by accepting everyone. They too would argue that anti-immigration supporters are very un-American, for this country was built on the backs of immigrants, from the Chinese working on railroads, the Irish in low-wage factories to the blistered backs of black slaves, and denial of any good-intentioned immigrant seeking solace in this great country is going against the American way. As it stands, this issue is never a good one to start with in a class full of strangers whose own positions you know nothing about, unable to gauge when and where their line is at and whether or not it has been crossed. But a good piece of advice one of my political science professor gave me during my first year of college stood out as the conversation went on: you come to college to be insulted. You pay that 50K worth of tuition and student loans to show up at an 8 a.m. class to have all you've ever known to be true to be challenged. And that's exactly what happened today (unless some of my fellow classmates had no heart and still were left unwavered in their stances).

I think the best part of studying sociology is that it works well when you have some passion for whatever it is you're trying to change, when you evoke not only your emotions but of others around you. The topic of illegal immigration has no precedence in my life, but just hearing those stories of my fellow classmates experiencing the loss of family members, the constant struggle they face being an undocumented student, the very disgust and hurt they feel at the word "undocumented" and the perpetual fear of husbands and parents who might be able gone and deported before you even clock out from work, should be enough to change any antis idea of what is fair and legal. Historically, segregation was legal, the Jim Crow laws were legal, slavery was legal. And all those who followed along as a "good citizen" then, allowing institutional racism to thrive, is now synonymous with any villain in a comic book. Because what may be right and lawful is not necessarily moral. Now what will we be looked upon a hundred years, or even fifty years from now, when all you have to defend yourself is "those illegals weren't abiding the law." Because when it comes down to it, this whole sham is about race. There wouldn't be this much outrage if blue eyed, blond haired Germans started taking your jobs at the strawberry fields. Where will your sense of patriotism and nativism be when they ship over boatloads of white Europeans to the coasts illegally to take our job and abuse our laws? This whole thing gave me a headache, puffy eyes, and I was struggling to keep my snot-filled nostrils sniffling on the down low. 

But after all the tears were gone and all the tissues used up (thank you good Samaritan for sharing), we had a soul train line where we danced and cheered and high-fived and fist bumped and shouted praises and "woooOOOooos" for some time. And it was great. This whole day was like Chicken Noodle Soup for the heart, but in actual application.