A Thousand Little Acts
The racial angst of international travel during the Trump administration
I pulled my wife aside where our two daughters couldn’t hear. I felt her muscles tighten. She fixed me with an intense look that reflected the same concerns that burdened me.
“We need to agree on something now,” I said. “If the border agents try to separate us from our children, there can’t be any compromise. We have to fight to stop them, fight dirty, gouge their eyes out, kick them in the groin, keep kicking when they fall, scrape their throats, and rob them of the ability to breathe.”
“You mean fight like they’re trying to take our children away,” she said without hesitation, her voice hard.
I paused, torn between the prospect of worrying her and a need to walk through the scenario. Familiarity speeds up your reaction time, and a fraction of a second could be the difference between holding your child close and watching helplessly as she is scooped up and carried away by a nameless man down a distant corridor.
“We will not recognize their authority to take them under any circumstance.”
“No.”
“There shouldn’t be an issue, but we have to be resolved.”
