I Squeal

Guarded behind an alienating fence, the old Airforce base’s buildings stand in silence. It could have been a lovely day. We could have taken the family for a picnic.
But it’s not.

We’re standing outside of what is now a holding facility, a prison for immigrants, in Florida. A group of us, some holding signs that read “love thy neighbor as thyself״ break that silence as we shout: “Close this camp!”. I’m trying to avoid being overcome by the feeling of powerlessness, and I wipe my tears.

Above the fence, I couldn’t help but notice the sign on one building that reads “Career Center”, a remnant sign from the times the base was part of the US Airforce, and not a detention and separation camp run on behalf of the US Government, by a for-profit organization.

This sign reminded me of the infamous Arbeit Macht Frei (German for “work sets you free”) the slogan appearing at the entrance of Auschwitz and other Nazi camps. I feel goosebumps all over my body, and I start to shiver.

How did we ever come to this?

This cruel policy, that also forbid elected public representatives from entering the camps grounds, is trying to hide how easy it is for some of us to become inhumane.
As we’re screaming and crying, we share the powerless pain of a fellow human being, while the mercenaries working on behalf of the US government are attempting to turn him into a transparent, invisible, sidelined object.

We once promised “never again”.

We failed.
All that is left is to helplessly scream.
And so, I squeal.