We Were the Ones Left Behind

I know what happens when we separate children from their families

Credit: Art Montes De Oca/Photographer’s Choice/Getty

I know what happens when children are separated from their families. They collapse into themselves and try to become as small as an atom, infinitely divided. They fold their sorrow over and over again — hoping that by taking up less space, they may create room for their families to rejoin them.

There is no understanding, no reconciling or consoling the feeling of abandonment. We grow up with a gaping open wound in the center of our chests and shrink into ourselves to hide our permanent dissonance. When children are taken from their families, they forget their parents names: ma y pa’s love required no introduction. When their teachers ask them who they can call at home, they cry, knowing that no one is there waiting for them. Being a child and separated from your family leaves you suspended in the space-time continuum: there is no up or down, no space or ground, no logic capable of explaining your utter displacement from within and without.

The immigration system has always been complicit in the separation of families, whether by cost, process, or policy. Since October 2017, more than 700 children have been separated from their parents, some as young as 18 months old. The American Medical Association opposed the separation of families…