My maternal grandma once told me a story about her side of the family that I'll never forget.
It was a story about her cousins, who had crossed the border in the hopes of having a better life in that new country. They traveled for weeks: Walking through terrible conditions, constantly being aware of their surroundings, and I'm sure they had doubts along the way. But they kept going, despite all of the mental and physical barriers, because they knew that the chance of a better life in a better country was far better than the risk of getting caught and sent back.
For a while, I never acknowledged my maternal Panamanian side. Whenever people asked me where I was from, I immediately said, "Jamaican," which was where my dad's side of the family was from. I always felt more connected to that side of my family, because of the food, the music, the culture, etc. I felt like I looked more like a "Jamaican." I knew a lot more people who were Jamaican and grew up with the traditions I grew up with, so it was only natural that I gravitated towards that side of me.
I recently took Spanish as an elective this past semester and I absolutely hated it. Nothing about speaking Spanish intrigued me and I remember talking to my father about it and he said, "How can you hate speaking Spanish when you're Latina?"
I hate to say that I flipped, but I did. I hated the fact that he called me Latina when I clearly check, "Black/African American" when I fill out surveys that need my personal information. I was never comfortable with the Hispanic side of me, but I think now more than ever, I'm finally understanding how important that part of me is.
When Trump announced the deportation of illegal immigrants and the separation of families, it really hit me. I mean, I was so used to fighting for my black brothers and sisters, that I realized I never truly acknowledged the other side of me, and how I could use my platform to bring awareness to their issues, too.
I mean, would I even be here right now if my own cousins hadn't crossed the border? If they hadn't gone to work in a better country and send money back for my grandma and her family, would my mom even have the opportunity to move to America when she did? I probably wouldn't even be here right now if it wasn't for their courageous acts.
It made me wonder... What opportunities are we passing up by deporting all of the illegal immigrants instead of granting them citizenship? Now, I'm no expert on foreign policy or the "border wars," but I do at least have empathy. Sure, I'm a citizen of this country, but only because my mother was granted the opportunity to come here for a better life, all thanks to others who have paved the way for her. I am privileged, in this sense. In fact, anyone who is a citizen of the U.S. is definitely more privileged than others in the world.
But human safety and opportunity should not be a privilege... it should be a right.
That's why I have a problem with this whole "zero tolerance" policy. All these immigrants want is to live in a country where they can provide for their family, be safe, and give their children opportunities they could have never dreamed of.
It's sad that something so horrible has made me so aware of what my ancestors went through in order to get me where I am today, but I'm thankful.
Today, I love that I can say I'm Jamaican AND Panamanian: I'm Afro-Latina, and I am proud.
