We Take Care of Our Own
Becoming a sanctuary city
I had to challenge some of my assumptions recently. Let me tell you why.
My town joined the growing number of sanctuary cities in the United States last week. Town leadership consulted immigration attorneys, specialists in constitutional law, and other experts to determine the potential impact that sanctuary city status could have on the management of the town (e.g., funding for education and emergency response).
Before going to a town meeting on the issue, I noticed that a neighbor had posted an invitation to a peaceful pro-sanctuary rally on the Nextdoor App. My town prides itself on its growing diversity and acceptance of others. However, I was shocked by some of the angry, ignorant, and disdainful responses that the invitation inspired. (Please tell me why some people insist that their great grandparents had the correct documentation when they immigrated. Do you really know what great grandma Ingrid had in her pockets in the 20th century?) I didn’t know what to expect when I walked into our town meeting. However, I did know to bring water and snacks in my handbag in case things turned ugly and we needed to have.it.out.
Challenging my assumptions
I have had positive interactions with my local police, but I braced myself when our Chief of Police stood to speak. Trump and his minions have claimed all police as their most avid supporters. So, I knew where this was going. The Chief said that when he initially learned about the proposed resolution, he did not understand why we needed it. “Here we go,” I thought. “I knew it.” I shifted in my seat so that I could spring to the mic during the public comments period.
He explained. Our police were already doing what was in the resolution. Then, someone told him why this was still important: to demonstrate our values and let others know that our police respect immigrants. To that he responded: “Fantastic! I’m in support of it!”
I shook my head. I must have heard him incorrectly. I waited for the “But…”
Our Chief then described our town’s values so clearly and passionately that I teared up. I don’t want you to envision our Chief as a septagenarian rollie pollie guy who looks more like Santa in a police uniform (think Quaker Oats grandpa). No. We have a buff, younger, white Chief of police with short cropped hair (think more John Cena) who looks like THE police, THE man, THE Po Po, THE 5–0 or whatever people say these days. Yet, here he was — urging us to live our values.
“I think this resolution is a great idea. You have to care. Otherwise things in the community fall apart. …You have to care about more than what happens to you.”
He then briefed us on the chain of command and the state guidelines that outline how local, county, and State police should “interact with immigrants.” He made it clear that he had no intention of turning his police officers into a quasi-federal force conducting ICE raids.
Sharing our anger
Christians, Jews, and Muslims spoke one after another rejecting national efforts to target and ban immigrants. They testified about how their faith compelled them to embrace love and reject hate. They quoted scripture. They shared stories of faith. It started to feel like an Interfaith session. I was waiting for the gospel choir.
Then, a man started to speak a bit softer than the rest, “I just want to state for the record that…” My mind raced. Greek Orthodox? Jehovah Witness? Buddhist? “…Atheists support the resolution, too!” A number of us laughed. Alright. We were bound by our common humanity.
Some residents spoke against the resolution. When one man finished, he rushed out of the room as though he was scared to listen to our views — lest he “got woke” and changed his mind. Another man caught him on the way, thrust his hand out to shake and said: “I think that you are completely wrong, but I thank you for having the courage to share your opinion.”
Claiming our values
The most contentious part of the debate focused on whether we should include the words “sanctuary city” in our resolution. Other towns avoided the language. They feared Trump reprisals. Residents stood at the mic demanding that we commit to our values and not back down. One person said: “I’m part of the American resistance. We cannot give in to fear.” Another argued: “Words matter!”
President Kennedy’s words echoed in my mind. We take these type of risks “not because they are easy, but because they are hard. …[W]e must be bold.” Decades later, my neighbors — men and women of varying backgrounds — implored our leadership and all of us to take the same leap of boldness. By the time of the vote the following week, our Village Trustees overwhelmingly supported the resolution which included the words “sanctuary city.”
Sanctuary cities matter. We are strong only when we stand as a united front and challenge injustice at every level of our society. Undocumented immigrants and their families are a part of our lives and our communities. We must band together to protect the most exposed among us. Believe me — with the Trump Administration, Tea Party, New Right, Breitbart News, Fox News, and more — most of us will eventually find our necks on the chopping block. It is too easy for them to hone in on our differences and try to tear us apart like pulled pork. Not now. Not tomorrow. Not ever.
How can more of us fight to protect our towns from hate? Here are tips for becoming a sanctuary city. Because…
