Assuming that every man, woman and child alive today has seen the 1999 movie Titanic, there is one scene that keeps revolving through my head lately.
Kathy Bates, or the Unsinkable Molly Brown, life-vested and blue-lipped with her fellow shipmates, watching and listening to the horror of the people left to float and freeze in the Atlantic after the ship has disappeared from view into the ocean. With her old West accent, she cries out to the others in her life boat,
“I don’t understand a one of ya, what's the matter with ya? It's your men out there! There's plenty o' room for more!”
Of course, the boat does not venture into a rescue for those left to freeze, for fear of being overloaded by panic. In pure necessity of survival, she must sit and allow voices to slowly drown and become silent.
Almost, like a song stuck in my head, I hear Molly Brown pleading to help, while being met with indifference. Her words are my exact internal dialogue as we see what is happening at the border currently. I cannot, simply, will not get too far into politics here; there is just too much that has already been said, and no use in putting my two cents into the overflowing bucket.
Unfortunately, my vision for peace and love isn’t as effortless as I sometimes believe. My last piece, ‘catch and kennel’ of the now infamous crying girl watching her mother be patted down, got some heat from comments on social media. Whoever thought that a painting of a toddler could be so polarizing? But it was. Somehow, people I know, and many in general, are watching this horrific moment in history and are able to find excuses: we all see the tent cities and chain link interior of these holding places; parents inconsolable, describing their deportation and hopelessness that the only way to see their child again is through a hotline. If this is not enough, the most ‘what's the matter with ya?’ reflex I feel from this is: many red American’s rationalization to justify this practice, seemingly proud that immigration is being hammered down with an iron fist. Wherever positions lie between those protesting in Texas, to those with a Trump sticker on their bumper, the most alarming part of this new mandate is the substantial number of regular people defending children in camps- let's say it again: Children. In. Camps.
Let me be clear, because the second I mention any parallel to Nazi Germany, I hear about it: I may have no expertise in geo-political affairs, but I am not a mouthpiece. That must be stated before I go further, because per my last piece, most disagreement came from claiming that I’d been brainwashed by liberal media. No, I have not. This is my opinion only. My own outlook, without any added ingredients.
The backlash from Trump’s zero tolerance has been swift, but we should not get comfortable. A year ago there were protests for a ‘muslim ban’ and here we are, watching brown children cry in pseudo-prisons. This stuff happens fast. Hitler happened fast. Mussolini happened fast. Justin Bieber happened fast. Therefore, hearing scoffs at the idea that history is repeating itself, is just as, if not more worrisome.
The growing, crumbling fault in our views is becoming nastier. If there were division before, then it’d be safe to say that there is a wall under way between beliefs. There is no such thing as a moderate view anymore, if you don’t take a side, you’ll never be heard. The ethical fact, however remains, that no matter how fiscally sound for America, the separation and internment of minors cannot back up the recent policy, unless we are talking about a regime, not a democracy.
There is a lot more to say here. A. LOT. MORE… but I am not writing about the zero tolerance policy or child detention camps or the clear fascist movement happening. I can argue all day, rant and rave, and go blue in the face trying to change opinions, but it isn't productive. On the other hand, we all tend to talk about the leaders, decision makers, those causing atrocities, but not as often the real accounts of victims of these policies. Since many have marginalized Hispanics and Central Americans as ‘Illegals’ instead of, you know, humans… the opinions are hard formed and many tragic stories are ignored.
We must comprehend that by making entry into the US as hard as possible, it will surely cause an increase of loss of life. Those crossing illegally tend to have to trek through rural, intense terrain, as the more urban holes in the border were closed up in the 90’s, assuming that the harsh conditions would deter potential migrants. That was not the case. Instead of bickering over the current President’s cowardly strangulation of human rights, we should understand the reality of people crossing the dangerous borderlands and that no patroling or wall will avert desperation to come anyway.
This is for Josselin, she is one of the, far too many lives affected by simply trying to find safety. She is a lesson that our policies create a near brutal decision for families to make. Stay and die, or cross and see what danger is waiting. I urge anyone who may stumble upon my modest little piece here, to imagine that life did not grant that golden ticket of being born into this country; to even for a moment, visualize being in the shoes of someone who must leave their home, everything they know, to find refuge in a place where their loved ones can be safe, even if that means risk of detention. As Atticus Finch puts it:
“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.”
If we all looked at each other without the government designed border system, and chose empathy over capitalism, then it would be nearly impossible to separate us by views, which is the last thing the Government wants.
Her Story:
Josseline Jamileth Hernandez Quinteros (first name pronounced Yo-Suh-Leen), a 14 year old girl from El Salvador in 2008, was left at home with extended family while her mother and father fled to the States undocumented, ahead of their children to find work and not risk losing them into the system. Her father on the East coast, while her mother filtered into California, both working long hours for months to save up enough money to bring their children to LA. When her mother had saved the couple of thousand dollars to hire a Coyote to escort them up, Josseline and her 10 year old brother departed on the 2,500 mile journey north with several other people leaving a futile home. The journey through these countries is extremely risky. From elements, to drug trafficking to rape and murder, the human smuggling business is undeniably not suitable for children. Yet, they go anyway. The distress of these parents hiring stranger guides to transport their kids through unspeakable danger, just at the shot, the one shot, of a safe landing in the US is proof enough of the danger they are fleeing.
Josseline, per the Tuscon Times article I found her story in, (linked below) was excited to reunite with her mother and ensure her little brother’s safety, feeling much like a mother to him in their parent’s absence. As they crossed the border into Arizona, traipsing through the winter dessert wilderness, she wore 2 sweatshirts over a tank top and a pair of sweats over her jeans to keep warm on the final leg through the elements, just about all of the clothing she had with her. According to her brother, her sweatpants donned ‘Hollywood’ across the backside, evidencing her excitement of their destination. She wore a pair of green sneakers and had a sweet white beaded bracelet on her wrist. The small touches of a young teenage girl, the little things that can mean so much, even through the worst of circumstances. The importance of her wardrobe is hauntingly clear as the story continues…
As the group pushed on, the Coyte insisted on a quick pace; they’d need to complete the last portion quickly to get to the Interstate where there would be a vehicle waiting, scheduled to take them into California
At about 20 miles from the Interstate change-over, Josseline reportedly began feeling ill. The landscape she’d pushed through is unforgiving and like many at the end of a taxing migration, the wicked environment began to get to her. Whether dehydration, or possible contamination of water from nearby cow pastures, Josseline began vomiting. In a short time, she was doubled over, too weak to stand, expelling the little she had in her stomach. As she lagged behind, the Coyote pressed for her to continue, but she became too fatigued to move, eventually collapsing to the rocky ground. He instructed that she stay behind in the desert; the group could not miss their scheduled ride and would surely be caught by authorities if they did.
Josseline’s brother begged for them to stay and help, but the decision was for the many and not the few. Her brother ready to remain and wait out the worst with his big sister, but Josseline insisted that he continue on with the group. The guide assured the siblings that border patrol would find her by morning and that she could be granted a reconnection to LA. Josseline finally achieved her insistence to her 10 year old brother, to “go get to Mom”, she would meet him in California.
The group moved on to their final destination, her brother enroute to their mother, while Josseline was left behind, in a cold, empty, dark badland.
Imagining the horror of seeing only one of your two children arrive safely to your arms is enough to make any mother misty. The opinion that parents are irresponsible if they allow their children to travel alone with these bandits is an ignorant one. Cite again, Atticus excerpt.
Josseline’s mother began calling the Salvadorian Consul, which connected her through to a human rights group, Derechos, based in Tuscon, who gather numbers and statistics of the desert’s lost and dead, then notify authorities. Derechos was sent Josseline’s picture along with a description of what she was wearing for her trip; Hollywood pants, green sneakers, white beaded bracelet. Derechos also notified Hospitals, Detention Centers, Border Patrol, put fliers on the street and contacted the Pima County Medical Examiner, who is not immune to corpses of migrants coming in with no identification or family to call.
‘No More Deaths’ an activist group, also in Tuscon, seems to handle the field work side of helping migrants, compared to the bullhorn alerting Derechos does. No More Deaths, name proving the epidemic of border crosser’s fates, sends volunteers into the Arizona desert to set out water, food and clothing along paths known to be traveled often. They are also amature search and rescue, sometimes finding sick, lost or injured people left behind like Josseline.
Three weeks after Josseline’s disappearance, a volunteer for NMD was on his typical route, placing jugs of water, granola bars and socks along the barren landscape. A retired teacher, turned volunteer for NMD, Dan Mills was doing his typical routine with a handful of volunteers, working their way through Cedar Canyon, between brush and rocky walls; spotting many places to tuck supplies into. As they continued, Dan noticed something bright in the distance, a pair of green shoes set upon a rock. Oddly eerie in an empty land, he knew the footwear’s owner must be near, so he called out the No More Deaths chant, to greet migrants who may fear authorities:
"¡Hola, hermanos! Somos amigos de la iglesia. Tenemos comida y agua." Hello, brothers! We're friends from the church. We have food and water.”
As they began searching for people hiding or afraid, he saw her. Pink sweatpants and a tank top, 2 sweat jackets draped over a nearby rock. Her feet were resting in a pool of water in a cavity of a large stone. Rigidly, she was laid back under a bush, hands over her head, a little white bracelet on her wrist. He reported that her body was fairly intact for it’s exposure to hungry wildlife, but that her teeth were visible, indication of notable decomposition.
Dan and another agreed to go the hour back into town to inform authorities, at the time not knowing that the remains they found was of the well-known Josseline that had been missing. Two volunteers stayed behind with her body, making a modest cross out of sticks and piling rocks to create a shrine for the little girl as they waited for police.
The small body was then taken to the medica examiner, her father flew in to do a DNA test to be certain it was indeed her body as her remains were too far gone to identify. Although, in the interim, Josseline’s mother was contacted by the Coyote who left her, promising she was alive and her safe return, for more money. A telling sign of this business and how it preys upon parent’s despair. She refused, and though inevitability based on her clothing, the small sliver of hope that it was not Josseline was quickly thrown out. The test came back positive, closing weeks of uncertainty, only to rip open a new wound of grief.
As Josseline’s body was taken to her mother in California for burial, locals near Tuscon and volunteers for said humanitarian groups planned a funeral for her at the site of her discovery. Many of Josseline’s extended family came out as well from other areas of the States, though her parents and little brother could not make it due to fear of being caught by authorities. Dozens of people journeyed far out into the canyon where her body was found, many of them noting the terrain’s cruelty, being scratched, tripping over rocks, watching for dangerous wildlife, all obstacles Josseline herself endured on her venture.
A Catholic Priest held mass at the site, while a white cross was snuggled between the rocks with her name and a poem from her mother written in purple along its center.
"When you feel that the road has turned hard and difficult / Don't give yourself up as lost / Continue forward and seek God's help.” a message to others who may pass and feel the hopelessness Josseline was sure to have felt those many hours alone, sick and terrified. Finally to the little girl lost, her mother wrote: "Te llevaremos siempre en el corazón." We'll carry you always in our hearts.
The Priest anointed her memorial with oil and later reported he said in remorse to her photo:
“How sorry I was, that we as a people, as a nation, would do this."
Josseline is not alone, she is the beautiful, bright, young face of preventable death by border crossing. Volunteers can only do so much, border patrol can only do so much. Prayer, for whatever it’s worth, can only do so much. There is no simple solution. The more restricted points of entry become, the worse conditions migrants must go through, which clearly, is not a deterrent. Along with the incessant talking heads of that fucking wall, the path to America seems to close up more and more, setting these people, who, out of pure life or death circumstances, into even more dangerous avenues of getting in. Patriotism is great, but there’s an attitude issue that comes bellowing out from people who are defending these new policies. Illegal immigration is not about economics, welfare, gangs, drugs or murder. It is about rhetoric from the elite to keep regular American’s attacking the minority, without even knowing they are being duped. It is about division, knowing there is no progress made in a nation split. It is about generations of xenophobia and fear of new culture. It is about false entitlement in a land that was built by immigrant hands (happy story without the malaria blankets, and slaughter and stuff).
Josseline, you are not forgotten and you will not have died in vain. Your story will be known for your courage and determination. I won’t stop talking about you, I won’t stop embodying your face as the beauty we need in America, I won’t stop remembering your fortitude to bring your family together. As more horror continues at this invisible line, the value of Josseline’s life will only become more important. After her final mass in the middle of a dusty landscape, where her soul departed to the unknown, the priest was quoted:
"For all of us, those who saw her, or saw her picture, she became so alive, so real, We called her our sister, our daughter, our child. Every migrant is dear to us. But she was everybody. She was all of those thousands of people who suffered and died."
No one can change the world alone, no protesting can stop the increase in the harsh treatment of immigrants, no helpful laws will be created to protect people who have nowhere but North to go. Change must happen internally and individually, and the most valuable place to start is simply imagining ourselves not born into a cocoon of safety and middle class. As the politics surrounding immigration heat to boiling, remember the potential and dreams of a little girl gone, due to the mere fact that she had to take a critical risk to meet her parents. Even if fleeting, the best we can do is to imagine that we were in her bright green sneakers, for she is indeed, the beautiful face of a repulsive problem.
https://www.tucsonweekly.com/tucson/the-death-of-josseline/Content?oid=1816192