I love my children. I would do anything for them. Read off the Things I Would do for My Children list and I would do it all: give them a kidney, walk through fire, take a bullet. Check, check, and check. I would even give them my last donut. I don’t think this makes me special. It just makes me a parent. As every parent reading this well knows, when you become a parent something inside of you changes. A switch is flipped and the world stops being about you.
I have three sons, and very soon I will have a daughter. My kids are the best. They are strong and funny and compassionate and brave. My kids are the best. But so are your kids. And so are kids from China and Russia and Afghanistan and Ethiopia and El Salvador and Brazil and North Korea and Sudan and Pakistan and Israel and Canada and Mexico. My kids are the best, but so are their kids.
I’d walk through fire for my kids. I’d take a bullet for my kids. It’s such a trite sentiment, but it’s also true. So is it really that hard to believe that some parents would walk hundreds of miles across the desert in 100 degree heat to cross the border even at the risk of being arrested just to give their kids a better and safer life?
I mean, if you would do anything for your kids, is it really that hard to believe that other parents would do the same? If (some days it seems like when) this country were to destabilize and collapse is it truly that difficult to imagine a scenario where you pack up your family and walk hundreds of miles through dangerous conditions to get to a safe place, even if that safe place meant you had to illegally cross the border into another country? Of course you would do it and, if you’re like me, you would take no prisoners along the way because that is what a parent does – we do anything for our kids.
Watching images of children in cages this week was difficult, but listening to the audio of crying children being taken from their parents was unbearable. There were a few times I had to turn the TV off, overcome with emotion and shame I would need a moment to collect myself. I cried too, but in those moments I found myself thinking of my kids, and not the kids in cages. I thought about my kids being taken from their birth parents and what that must have felt like for them at the ages of 2 and 4 and 5, and how it still must feel for them at the ages of 8 and 12 and 14. I imagined the terror and confusion in their little faces and even now, typing this sentence, I choke up.
This is empathy and as many of us discovered this week, not everyone has been blessed with it. No parent, no human being with empathy, could see photos of children in cages and not think, this is wrong. Full stop, no equivocating, this is wrong. And yet, for many it was right — just even — and for some it was wrong, but still they equivocated so it wasn’t really so much wrong as they just weren’t willing to fully commit to their awfulness.
People in this country like to complain about welfare and public assistance, but the reality for most of us is that we are never more than one paycheck away from needing that assistance. As our friends and family justify and support the placing of children in cages, perhaps it’s time for them to wake up and acknowledge that we are one Executive Order away from it being our children in those cages.
My kids are the best, but so are their kids.
Sean Michael O’Donnell is 43 year old married gay man. He lives in Pittsburgh with his husband and three sons. Sean enjoys Law & Order reruns, Christmas movies in October, and Facebook stalking. He likes donuts and beer. Sometimes he goes to the gym. He is the author of the best-selling book Which One of You is the Mother?