A Tale of Three Brothers

A hearing is scheduled today in Sparta, North Carolina family court to determine the fate of Isaiah, age 4, and his two little brothers. They have been in foster care, and the foster parents have petitioned to adopt them. The state terminated their mother's parental rights. There's just one little pesky detail that stands between these little boys and the American Dream. Their biological father, fully able to care for them, provide for them and with a proven track record of nurturing at least as well as and better than many mothers.

Isaiah's father broke the law; several laws to be exact. No two ways about it. A Mexican citizen, he lived and worked illegally in the United States for several years. While he was here, he married an Anglo American citizen. They had three children, all American citizens as well. They were different from, but not unlike many struggling folks who live in one of the poorest areas of our nation, the foothills of the Appalachian mountains. Isaiah's father did not have car insurance, registration for his car or a driver's license. On probation for driving without a license, one day he was called in to the probation office and Immigration was waiting for him. He was sent back to Mexico.

Without her husband, with a history of mental health issues and no stable income, Isaiah's mother was deemed unfit by the state and the three little boys were taken away from her. She wants the boys to be with their father. Her family wants the boys to be with their father. The father desperately wants his sons with him.

The state of North Carolina has certain guidelines to determine best interests of a child. Isaiah's father fails to meet them. He has no legal street address (no one in his village does), the home he lives in has extended family and thus too many people in the house (and extended family is now a bad thing?) and his home has concrete floors (definitely not part of the American dream.) The state instructed him to stay in contact with the children by calling the foster home to speak with the older two and inquire about the baby on particular days at particular times, and he was unable to do so because he just happened to be at work at those designated times.

Here in my home state of California, we are much more accustomed to dealing with these issues and it's likely Isaiah and his brothers would have been allowed to go to Mexico to be with their father long ago. That's because California does not judge standard of living in Mexico by California guidelines. It's a cultural thing.

Isaiah's father is having his basic human rights violated in the most grievous way. Isaiah and his two little brothers are being punished in the worst possible way. I imagine the foster parents love the boys and believe they can give them a good life. I imagine the authorities in North Carolina are well intentioned people only doing their jobs, but the underlying arrogance of us as Anglos is very disturbing. If you would ask any of us if family is the most important thing in our lives, we would all probably say yes. But in the Latino culture, family is not just the most important thing. It is everything.

Susan

How Do We Sleep?

I have the most beautiful set of luggage. Pink trimmed in black, I named it "Barbie luggage." It was a birthday gift from my former husband when we were married. I still use it and I love it! But it does get me singled out at airport security. Without fail. Every time. A male TSA employee will invariably want to look through the contents of the Barbie bag.

It's my only experience with profiling. You see, I am a white American of European descent, born here in the United States. I have no idea what it's like to worry about a police officer pulling me over when I'm driving. I have no idea what it's like to have to work harder and be smarter, to counteract negative stereotypes about my culture. I can go into any hair salon, and the stylists will know what to do with my hair. I can go into any supermarket, and it's full of the type of food I eat. No one makes fun of my "accent." I can buy a car or rent an apartment and never be concerned about discrimination.

My apartment complex has many residents of Mexican descent. Since I am learning Spanish, I occasionally talk to them in my "toddlerese" Spanish. My first sentence is that I am studying Spanish in college, because I don't want to patronize them or give them the idea I don't think they speak English. They all speak way better English than I do Spanish. I have found that my neighbors are overwhelmingly friendly and helpful, although somewhat bemused at my approach. They will gently correct me when I use the wrong word or tense of a verb. One day in the laundry room, a lovely older lady named Juana and I conversed. In Spanish class, we had just finished a chapter about clothing, so as I took my clothes out of the dryer, I told her about my red sweater, my yellow shirt and my green dress.

We white people can come off as really arrogant sometimes. I especially dislike how "immigration" and "protecting our borders against terrorists" and "homeland security" have given people permission to hate those of Mexican descent. It's a political football, and all it does is encourage the haters. Certainly immigration needs to be reformed, but not this way. I think some have forgotten a huge part of California history. California used to belong to Mexico. It's odd how we white people go around taking what isn't ours, then persecuting the very people we took it from. California is a very big and wonderful state. Surely we can find a way to solve some of our problems without all the hating. The white people who do that make me wonder. How do they sleep at night?

Susan

The lyrics to "Beds are Burning" are by Peter Garrett.