Nah, Joe Wilson, I ain’t lying.
I’m a deported man’s wife, (one less “illegal immigrant” in your land of the free, home of the brave,) and I most definitely have some thoughts on being married to a good man who was deported from Chicago, Illinois back to Mexico in April of 2001. I went to live with him in Mexico in August of 2001. We were legally married at the time of his deportation, and I was born and raised in the States.
There’s a story attached to those skimpy facts. Trust me, when it comes to US immigration, there’s always a story attached.
The point of this blog isn’t to stay in the abstract, keep you at arms length, and only rail against people/policies/laws. There’s most definitely a place for that.
But this ain’t it. This is about the mundane, the tragic, the fucking funny about being the deportee’s wife.
So pull up a chair. No id check required. Shit, with the exchange rate at 13.34 Mexican pesos to the US dollar right now, the only checks that should be going out should be of the financial kind, ya dig?