A Pause for Grief and Anger: 46 Cambodian American Refugees Deported

Today, I am angry. Today, a flight of 46 Cambodian American refugees are set to be deported. Some were born in refugee camps, some born in Cambodia, but all were asylum seekers fleeing violence brought on by Nixon’s Operation Menu — the carpet bombing of Cambodian land.

I am angry because in a country that touts joy, cheer, and family togetherness every November and December, we know damn well that these rights are not afforded to everyone. There is no pain describable seeing families torn apart, but I can imagine that the pain is much worse for the child who will not know when they will see their parent, for the parent who will not see their child, and for the spouse who will not see their significant other. For them I am angry, and for them I will keep fighting.

My grandmother used to tell me stories about losing children in war and how she would pray almost manically to get her children back. I am saddened that these stories are not of the past, they are present, and committed by the same players that tore my grandmother’s children from her very hands.

It speaks volume that every time there is loss in the Cambodian family whether it’s death, separation, incarceration, or deportation, we mourn and we normalize loss. We grieve and we extend ourselves beyond human lengths as we have adapted to survival for too long. When will be done surviving? When can we live? When can we be free? When can we be human too?

I think about the perpetrators of violence often — the politicians, the police, the prison guards, and the ICE agents. I cannot fathom the cognitive dissonance it takes to separate families. I can’t imagine what goes on in their hearts when they see children cry hysterically, when they watch as people say goodbye for the last time. In these times, I cannot think of any morally justifiable reason to be a politician, police, prison guard, or ICE agent.

Today I find myself thinking about the 46 Cambodians, I think about what more could I have done, I think about how the United States has failed them. I ask myself, what if I harbored them, what if I fought people off for them? Because in turbulent times, the fight for freedom is criminal, it calls for us to be criminal to set our community members free.

For the ICE agents, there is no morally just reason to separate families.

For the flight crew of Omni Air International, there is no morally just reason to separate families.

For Governor’s across the United States, there is no morally just reason to separate families.

You had the chance to stand on the side of justice, and you chose the side of violence. I hope you will never have to experience separation from your family and I wish you’d hope the same for immigrant and refugee families that experience this violence day in and day out.

For the families, the organizers, and other impacted folks. I love you all so much. May we embrace each other with tenderness and strength, for tomorrow is another battle.

In these times I always look inward to my family to hold me and give me strength.

Every holiday season my grandmother asks me what kind of work I’m doing. I show my grandmother pictures of my organizer friends, of the men I work with inside prison and ICE detention, I show her pictures of the men who are home, and who are free.

She then asked me, “why do you help these people, aren’t they criminals?”

I said, “because if it was me, you would do the same.”

She said, “Of course I would,” and hugged me so tight and tenderly, I remember feeling emotional. At that point I knew, she knew the answer to freedom — love. Our love for each other would set us free.

Let us give each other everything, because we are all we got. Always in love and until freedom family. Until freedom.