Fathers Day offers a reminder of our roots, and why we’re dedicated to the future.
Dear John,
45 years ago, a family of six moved from a global metropolis—London, England—to settle in the obscure hamlet of Rosebud, Missouri. I can’t claim any agency in the endeavor. I was only two years old, but that move dramatically changed the course of my life.
That decision by my parents to plant me in more fertile soil give me a chance to blossom. It was the second of their moves halfway around the world, each of which landed them in a profoundly different landscape and culture.
How far we have all moved since then! My nearest brother & his wife have three kids who they’re raising in North Carolina. My sister & her husband have three who they’re raising in St. Louis while caring for my father. We lost our mom to cancer in 2016, but remain very grateful for my father’s health despite his advancing age. My eldest brother, after retiring from his medical practice that began in the U.S. Army Medical Corps, moved a few years ago to New Zealand.
I left home at 16, spent a decade in Chicago working to get my education, and have been rattling between San Francisco and Washington DC—while working to keep the door open for other migrants—for the 20 years since then.
For me, Father’s Day brings to mind not only gratitude for the care, love, and support that each of our parents offer, but also a commitment to honor the burdens and sacrifices that they take on.
Every parent makes sacrifices for their children. Those who endure the challenges of migration to offer their families a better life take that role to a whole other level, uprooting their lives, leaving behind their own networks and cultures, and stepping into unfamiliar landscapes and languages, all for the sake of offering opportunity.
The sacrifices of immigrant parents are extraordinary—and they frankly put our country to shame.
It is shameful that our country has turned its back on migrants, splitting families, denying human rights, and pouring salt in the wound of a long abusive foreign policy that continues to drive both the climate crisis and resulting migration.
We have, in short, betrayed the inscription carved in stone at the base of the Statue of the Liberty inviting the world to “bring me your tired, poor, huddled masses yearning to breathe free.”
It is that vision of an open society, unafraid to welcome foreign dissidents, and committed to international human rights, to which I have dedicated myself over the past 20 years. That’s how I honor my parents, and how I’ve defended democracy in America.
Sent via ActionNetwork.org.
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