I wanted to post a silly article about watching cartoons. Instead I sobbed as I wrote this. My heart breaks for every family affected by ICE.
My teo died today.
My teo died today.
Except it wasn’t today. It was 12 days ago. July 7th.
And he wasn’t my teo. But he looks like him. And they share a name. And when I heard the news I sobbed like he was my loved one.
A lot of people don’t understand that when you are a part of a minority, you are all family.
It took me so long to learn because I have not been reading the news because I have been happy and did not want to feel sad. But I opened it today. I scrolled through videos of farmers talking about running a business. Of my favorite cosplayers adding to their series. Of my favorite skit person showing characters I love interacting. Then I got to a video about the news. I knew it was old but I like being informed so I watched it. I learned about Joan Sebastian Guerrero who dressed his daughter in her Bluey pajamas. Who driving was his wife and child. Who was murdered in front of his family for no apparent reason other than being brown inside a car. I wonder if they were going to get chocolate ice cream with sprinkles like my dad used to get me. My cousin is named Sebastian. I just now remembered that.
But I didn’t cry here. I just said of course. I kept watching because I couldn’t feel anything. Then I saw this photo.
And I broke down sobbing.
That cake is the same one we have for every tia and teo and abuela and abuelo and everyone else for every birthday and graduation and celebration. White icing with fruit on top and text reading “FELIZ CUMPLEAÑOS”. The house looks almost identical to my tia’s. Not her old one that I grew up in with memories of her chihuahua and cleaning plastic forks to reuse and different salsas for my dad and me so I didn’t lose all feeling in my mouth. The new house she had to move into because ICE kept raiding her old neighborhood and we were scared that even though they are legal citizens of the United States of America they were going to be deported or murdered. He is standing the same way my dad does; his hands look identical. He is even wearing my dad’s favorite shirt: a pink Ralph Lauren polo shirt.
I’m still shaking and crying as a write this.
I am grieving him like I would grieve a loved one because he is. He is part of my family and he died and so did a part of me.
His family will never see that smile again.
I didn’t have a point with this. I just need to document my grief. I need to scream and pray there is someone who can hear me.
We are humans. When will we stop being slaughtered like animals?