It's not the wall I oppose, it's the gates. I don't want people dying while trying to cross a desert, I don't want drugs and weapons trucked across the border, I don't want known criminals traveling about freely. So fine, build the wall, but administer the gates openly. Verify what we can, but let people come in.
"What's my concern about you, my brother, coming into 'my' country? Well, your hard work will lower my income. You see, I benefit from having you on that side of the wall. I pay less for my shirt because it's made in your country, by a company that pays your family much less than it would have to pay me. I pay less for my beer because the company makes its bottles in your back yard, and doesn't need to worry about your family's safety like it would mine. I love you, you are my equal, but I depend on cheap stuff."
I must admit my role in the poverty that drives my brothers and sisters from their homes. They don't want to leave their children, unsure if they'll ever hold them again. They don't lightly leave all familiar things behind for a place they don't know, can't speak the language, are not welcome. Maybe instead of worrying about how their arrival will affect my security, my health care, my income, I can actively support life-sustaining practices by those I give money and time.
"How did I get on this side of the wall? I was born here. Luck of the draw, brother, sad for you. How did my family get here? Several generations ago they stood in line, followed the rules, just like I'm asking you to do. Who made those rules? Someone before my family, I had nothing to do with it and neither did my family. Yes, yes, the rules were made by someone AFTER they had murdered, cheated and driven out the original people living here, but that was long ago..."
It's very convenient of me to demand strict immigration practices, now that I and my family are here. I don't need to feel the shame of immoral practices of past generations, but I have the power to make my own choices now. I must consider how present, arbitrary rules continue the immoral acts of the past. I didn't force the Choctaw on their fatal Trail of Tears, but what is my part in the Chavez brothers' fatal journey across the Mexican border into this land where I live?
"I've worked hard, these things are mine, I'm scared of what will happen. Just stay on that side of the wall. Please."
"Wait! Come back! You are hungry, let me feed you. You are thirsty, let me give you a drink. You are homeless, let me give you a room.... I have plenty."
