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382 pages, Kindle Edition
Published March 12, 2024
…the unexpected kindness of a stranger that sustained my mother for years after her incarceration. She told me about the “church ladies” from the American Friends Service Committee (Quakers) who would come to the fence to toss fresh fruits and vegetables over to prisoners every week. One day, a woman, possibly noticing that my mother was pregnant, called to her to come closer. Then, with enormous strength, the woman heaved a beautiful handmade quilt over the fence. When my mother picked it up, the woman smiled and said, “I hope this helps.”
A lifetime later, when my mother was ill and failing, the familiar quilt, now worn and ratty, lay on her bed. I suggested we replace it with a new blanket, but she refused. I knew the story about how it had come to belong to her, but I was surprised by the intensity of her refusal. When I asked her what the blanket meant to her, she said softly, clutching it in her hand, “This blanket helped me to remember that someone outside cared.” I realized, in that moment the healing power of the compassionate witness, someone whose presence countered the dehumanizing narrative imposed on a victim of trauma. Someone cared.
ProPublica and the Texas Tribune reported less than half of the approximately 8,200 people arrested (by ICE) from Jan. 20 (2025) through Feb. 2, so far have criminal convictions.
“It was just a regular morning,” said Loreal Duran from Echo Park in Los Angeles, describing her family’s before-school rush to get the kids out the door and loaded into the car.
But on the morning in question, Jan. 23, as her husband fastened their two young children into their seats, an immigration officer walked up, asking Loreal to show identification. “As he got closer to the car, he saw my husband, and basically, he just went around to the other side to grab my husband out of the car and take him away.”
Giovanni Duran, 42, came to California from El Salvador without federal authorization when he was 2 years old, brought by his family. He worked as a busser in a sushi restaurant in Los Angeles, Loreal said. Duran is now being held in the Adelanto detention facility, run by a private company under contract to ICE, awaiting deportation to a country he doesn’t know.
Black strands fell from the rubber band holding her hair back; her clothes were rumpled and faded, and tears streamed down her face. As she spoke, the translator struggled to keep her own composure. “I have just spent four months in a terrible place,” she said. “I feared for my children. We were hungry and afraid every day. When I hear that you were in prison for years, my heart aches for you. I cannot imagine your suffering.”