The Deportation Rains

Hey peeps. I’m back.

I could go into the whole mea culpa thing, but I’m not in the mood. At the end of the day, it’s my damn blog.

People/moments/faith/art brought me back.You know who you are-muchisimas gracias.

So here’s what I want to talk about today: It is pissing down rain here. It’s raining hard over most of Mexico, due to a cold front.

I recently gave a performance at the Casa del Migrante in Tijuana, Mexico. The Casa del Migrante is a network of temporary shelters for men that have been deported from the US. There’s a lot more info on their website in English and Spanish; check it out.

I was in Tijuana as a speaker for this conference. California is on the other side of Tijuana.

My mind, heart and eyes were opened. I’ll be discussing the ways in the posts to come. But the one I want to focus on today is that deportations to the US/Mexico border happen 24 hours a day. I wasn’t aware of this before.

When I was in Tijuana, it was also pissing down rain. Freezing cold. And the men kept arriving to the Casa del Migrante in Tijuana. And they’ll keep on arriving today, humiliated and soaked by the bone-slicing rainwater.

As in any group, the majority of these men are probably good guys. Some of them may be assholes.

But the hammering rain doesn’t discriminate.

I realized when I was in Tijuana that I never thought to ask my husband what the weather was like when he was handed over from US immigration officials to the Mexican authorities.

He told me that it was  sunny day. And I’m grateful for that small blessing.

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