Migrants Face Discrimination
“Hey, listen,” he began, “you know none of us would even be here right now if I hadn’t come over here illegally.”
“Yeah, we know Dad.” Carlos leaned back in his chair and started looking for his cell phone. He’d heard this story a hundred times before.
Juan leaned towards his son, forcing him to meet his gaze. “No comprendes,” he said with an intensity that demanded Carlos’ attention.
“What don’t I understand?” Carlos tried to be defiant, but he listened.
Carlos sized up his son. He’s turned into a big, strong military man. "You're so proud of the Marines. Would you be wearing a uniform if I didn’t come here?”
Carlos looked away, but Juan continued, “If you were born in Mexico, you might be mixing concrete or harvesting agave in the hot sun right now. You’d still be living with us, and maybe your grandparents, too.”
Sofia giggled to see her proud brother brought low.
“And you!” Juan turned his ire on Sofia, “You’d be married already, learning to cook properly, and giving me grandkids."
Sofia blushed.
“But this immigration system is broken. We all know that.” Juan stopped Maria from taking his plate. He reached for another tortilla. “These guys deserve the same chance I had.”
“Dad,” Carlos was visibly working to restrain himself, but he had to speak his mind. “We don’t have an immigration system. These open borders are ruining the country. All these illegals,” he gestured towards the alley, “they’re not coming to white neighborhoods. They're coming into our neighborhoods!”
“It's not illegal to be a person!" Sofia slapped her hand down on the table, then waved it in Carlos' direction. "The President has thanked immigrants for choosing America. But you’re discriminating against them.”
Carlos rolled his head back in exasperation, “Biden is a liar! He’s going to be impeached soon.”
“All those claims are unfounded!” Sofia objected, “There isn’t a shred of evidence the president personally received any money.”
“Are you serious?” Carlos scoffed, “There’s a mountain of…”
“No Carlos,” Juan cut him off sharply. He’d learned a lot in his citizenship classes. “You’re not going to talk that way about your Commander-in-Chief. You gotta be loyal to your President.”
Carlos set his jaw grimly but didn’t reply.
“Sofia’s right,” Juan continued. “I faced all kinds of discrimination when I got here,” Juan's gaze drifted towards the ceiling, and his eyes grew distant, as if he were recalling memories long buried. “I had to fight for everything. Whether it was healthcare for your mom, or education for you kids, all the laws were against me. You know they still lock up twice as many Mexicans in jail as white people.”
“Don’t forget SB 1070,” Sofia added, referring to a law passed in Arizona in 2010. “They can still pull you over and check your citizenship just for looking Mexican.”
“Why do you think we’ve been working so hard to get your uncle’s wife into America legally?” Maria asked softly, cleaning up the last of the dishes.
"Three years we've been trying to do it the legal way," Juan grumbled bitterly. "Like I said, the system is broken.”