In the year 2012 Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) officials announced that they had deported 409,849 immigrants.
Wow! I guess for that ICE deserves an applause and a cookie. Jokes aside, I would like to congratulate ICE for lying to the American people. They lie that they are “focusing resources on criminal and priority aliens (whatever that means), with more on convicted criminals.”
If they really were doing that then why did they arrest me? I had no criminal record. I was in fact a law abiding human being whose only crime was that I was an international student who had fallen out of status. My arrest was a waste of tax payers money…come to think of it, I’m also a tax payer! ICE, it just dawned on me that you wasted MY money arresting me.
The last thing I want to do is make this post all about me so lets get back to congratulating ICE because clearly they deserve it. ICE, I wanna congratulate you for breaking apart and tearing apart friendships, marriages and families. I hope you sleep well at night. Congratulations also for kicking out mostly poor and needy people. People who are tired, poor, homeless, huddled, all yearning to breathe free. As a victim of your overzealousness I congratulate you.
There is very little justice in the current immigration system. It really needs to be done away with or reformed. It is my hope that one day real justice will prevail and all the 11.1 million plus illegal immigrants will get to live freely in this country without fear of being deported.
“The New Colossus” a sonnet by Emma Lazarus (1849–87)
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!