Today my dad picked me up from therapy. As I climbed in the car, I found him looking through a target bag, strangely quiet. He didn’t look up or say hello until I greeted him, when he sniffed loudly and let out a choked sob. Thinking something terrible had happened, I asked him what was in the bag. He told me he’d gone to Target to find warm children’s clothes. Taking a deep steadying breath, he explained they were for Syrian refugees trapped in camps in Eastern Europe without adequate housing, food, or clothing. My dad pulled out the cotton onesies bearing the little Gerber Baby face and held them gently in his hands as if they already swaddled a tiny child–a tiny Syrian baby. We could feel that baby with us, then. He or she suddenly made real in our hearts and minds.
This is who Donald Trump’s ban keeps out. This is who we are denying safe passage and safe harbor. Tiny children you can cradle in your hands. Children whose lives contain bombs, freezing nights, and starvation instead of playgrounds, cocoa, and warm schools. It strands families in dire temperatures, homeless in unwelcoming countries, where they languish while we turn up our noses, remain silent.
This is not the America I believe in. I am the child of Ellis Island and refugees fleeing the rise of Hitler. I am a daughter of the Mayflower and the Scottish Highlands. My Irish matriarch fled famine and oppression in a British ruled Ireland. I am an American, and my history tells me this cannot stand. Our misplaced anger and hate will be the end of what is greatest and brightest here.
To every refugee: I want you in my country. You are what makes America so wonderful. Your story, my story, our stories all told in an incredible collection, that when woven together, forms the very fabric of our nation
Taken from a Facebook post on my personal account 9 February 2017 3:56pm.