So immigration is a big thing at the moment. I don’t know if anyone else has noticed that. You can’t turn on the news without seeing one of my chalky brethren loosing his shit. From what I gather the worry is that, and I’m paraphrasing here, a horde of brown people are swarming up from the south, not learning english picking our strawberries and destroying the fabric of America?
Like I said I’m paraphrasing.
The periodic Influxes of “Those Other People” is something that white folks do from time to time. It comes as naturally to a certain easily panicked subset of my ethnicity as having riblets at Applebee’s or maintaining a 15 foot minimum of personal space at the supermarket. Media networks know that fear is there and work tirelessly to exploit it. At first the head lines were sort of reasonable. Things about how the economy could be affected by undocumented immigrants working in the US but then they just got weird.
HISPANIC WOMEN DROP ANCHOR BABIES!
“What the hell does that mean…?” I thought.
I waited to see if something more fanciful would appear like:
40 EL SALVADORIANS MERGE TOGETHER LIKE VOLTRON AND DESTROY MINNEAPOLIS DOWNTOWN!
MEXICAN MAN EATS FLESH OF MOM AND POP STORE OWNERS IN SLEEPY SMALL TOWN, CACKLES, TWIRLS MOUSTACHE
I think there is a political contingent that wants me to be upset that people from elsewhere are renting property in my area. And I just can’t be. This is for one very simple reason:
I just cannot feel animosity for the culture that brought me the Taqueria.
I’ll admit that I make most of my decisions around eating or eating related activities. If there is a conceivable scenario that involves me shoving something tasty in my food hole then I am on board with whatever.
If I was president, which I never will be because I think there may be a picture of me flashing Dave Mathews Band somewhere on the internet and understand that’s a career killer, I would deal with immigration decisively. I would make decisions.
“Listen,” I would say, steepling my fingers importantly and resting my elbows on the Resolute desk. In a single steely look I would take in my advisors. “About this immigration issue. It’s very serious. I understand that. Things are being said about other things and all the folks being related to those things are in a kerfuffle.”
“Yes, Madam President, Did you read our briefs on…” One advisor would say.
“Shhhhh. No I did not. I had to beat the high score in Robot Unicorn Attack. It was an important America Thing. The Russian Prime Ministers score was getting dangerously high.”
“But what about the facts?” Another advisor would say.
“SHHHHHHHHH.” I would warn and for once people would shut the fuck up when I am speaking cuz this time I am the goddamned president.
“Ok.” I would get up and stride around the room the same way presidents do in movies. “So here is what I want done. For every thousand immigrants in this country two hundred of them will have to open a restaurant or take away kitchen. Just have them sign this form I have created.”
“Madam President, why is there a picture of an octopus with a laser gun in each tentacle in place of the presidential seal?”
“That’s the new seal. You don’t like it? I drew it myself.”
The rest of this imaginary solving of Americas immigration question sort of got derailed by an even better fantasy of having all of the other world leaders over for a slumber party to watch cartoons and have a few laughs. I was even think of renting a bouncy castle to put out in the rose garden…
Anyway, I don’t know if my allotment of restaurants per green card scam would work. No wait I do know. It’s a stupid idea. The only thing I know is that falafel and tacos and dim sum are hella good. We shouldn’t be sweating minor things like skin color and culture and language! We should focus on the thing that can truly be enjoyed and participated in by all of us, Newly arrived or been her for a while. That singular American trait.