For 12 years my family lived under the threat of imminent deportation.
In 1985, I married a man from Northern Ireland — a former member of the Irish Republican Army when the conflict there was intense and dangerous. Because his allegiance was to the side opposed to British rule, we believed his life would be in danger if he stayed.
We also knew his involvement in the conflict meant he would be denied entry to the U.S. Still, our only choice was for him to come to my home town, St. Louis.
For the first few years, we tried to live under the radar, but by the time we were expecting our second child, we made the decision to come forward to the authorities and apply for an Adjustment of Status.
That began a relationship with the United States Immigration and Naturalization Service that continues to this day, almost 40 years later, as Immigration and Custom Enforcement (ICE).
People are also reading…
We believed then, and still do, that his case was built on legitimate moral, humanistic grounds rooted in legal precedent and in the values of the United States. But the recent crackdown on immigrants in our nation and community have reminded me of that time, when geopolitical forces and politics determined policy more than justice or fairness.
I know what it is like to worry every time there is a strange car on the block, to dread visits to the DMV, to pay taxes but be afraid to file for a refund. Our children were cautioned about what to say and to whom.
I know what it is like to receive arbitrary calls from INS to report for some unknown reason, not knowing if my husband would be detained or leave in leg irons. The Post-Dispatch’s Bill McClellan tracked his case in print for years.
I spent more hours than I can count researching similar cases, hosting fundraisers for legal defense, writing letters and creating petitions. My children still complain about how many weekends they spent on picket lines in front of the Federal Building in St. Louis.
I learned that Immigration law is a strange creature. We saw cases like ours won in the courts only to be appealed by the government, causing the struggle to go on and on. Even with enormous support from our community and pro bono legal help, it took a toll on us physically, emotionally and financially.
Finally, in 1997, as a part of the Irish peace process, my husband was granted a Suspension of Deportation. Even now, however, his status with ICE is constantly shifting.
Though we’re divorced now, my ex-husband and I remain in frequent contact because we still share our children, grandchildren and similar values. I live in Overland, Missouri, an area with many new immigrants from such Central American nations as Honduras, Guatemala, El Salvador and Mexico.
I have come to love the community. I see my neighbors leave early for work and work extra jobs on weekends. My neighbor Daniel from El Salvador is always ready to help with my yard work, and Miguel from Guatemala shoveled my car out from under the ice.
I volunteer at a local non-profit where I have made many friends among my immigrant neighbors. I don’t know anyone’s “status” and frankly, I don’t care.
I get frustrated by people who say, I like immigrants, but they have to do it the right way. Those people have no idea what the “right way” is or what it costs or if there is even a “right way.” Sometimes there isn’t.
So I ask what is gained by the current policy of terrorizing families with threats of deportation? Doesn’t it make more sense to create a system where people who are here supporting themselves and who have no criminal history, can have a pathway to permanent residency? Wouldn’t that be more humane and even make better economic sense?
When my ex-husband received his Suspension of Deportation, I wrote an opinion piece for this newspaper titled, “Ordeal is over for Matt Morrison and his family: Long campaign showed strength of democracy.” I ended that piece with this: “We will try to repay our community by being good citizens and neighbors. We will pledge our continued support to people fighting for justice for immigrants, for poor people, for the disabled.”
We have tried to keep that pledge in my work as a social worker and his work as a nurse. Last Saturday, my youngest grandson and I participated in a march for immigrants in our community — because we continue to have a debt to repay.