Funny How It Works

Folks in the larger blogosphere have started to pick up on what happened to Juana Villegas DeLaPaz (see here, here, here, etc.) thanks to the hard work of Tim Chavez. 

I want to point out one thing:

Villegas DeLaPaz was arrested, incarcerated and forced to go through labor under armed guard handcuffed to by her wrist and ankle to a hospital bed. When she arrived at the hospital, the nurse asked the accompanying officer to step outside while Villegas DeLaPaz changed into her hospital gown – he refused, forcing Villegas DeLaPaz to unclothe before him. Then she was shackled on her legs whenever she went to the bathroom. The nurse asked that the shackles be removed because she wanted Villegas DeLaPaz to be able to clean up after childbirth and do other hygiene to prevent infection. Again, the attending officer refused. Her newborn was taken from her and did not receive needed breast milk for several days. She was re-jailed and denied a breast pump to express her milk. Nurses attending her were crying. She could not sleep in the jail because of the intense pain from her swollen breasts. She was not allowed to call her family so her husband could be with her for the birth. [Emphasis mine.]

Which is what I pointed out earlier:  People who witness first-hand how we treat the undocumented people who live with us hate it.  They find it unjust.  And they do not recognize any supposed benefit to themselves outweighing the suffering of the people, like Ms. Villegas DeLaPaz, who bear the brunt of this mess.

It’s funny–not funny ha ha, but funny strange–how it is that we’ve developed a program that is designed to inflict suffering on people supposedly by demand of the people of America, and yet, when ordinary Americans witness this program, they are appalled.  They stand against it.  They cry.  They need therapy to deal with seeing it in action.

We’re told that this is what most Americans want.  But most Americans, when confronted with the reality of it, the suffering of a woman like Villegas DeLaPaz, do not want that.

And so we are invited not to look.  We are invited to assume that everything is okay, that there are oversights, that these are anomolies.

America, this is exactly how the system is designed.

It is not an anomoly.  It is not something that will never happen again.

This is what is supposed to happen.

This is it.

And if you don’t like it, you have to stand against it.

You.

Go Ahead and Put “But They Probably Cleaned for Us” on My Tombstone

Ha, so Kathy took me around to a few houses today and we went to look at one near a couple of the Butcher’s friends.  The Butcher’s friends live in this great new house in a brand new subdivision of new goodness and newness.  This house was around the corner from there and the only brand new thing…

Well, let me just say, there were dirty old dogs, and dirty old half naked men, and a muddy yard down a dead end “private” road, into a moble home with aspirations of being modular.  It was clean, and well-kept, but not as clean and well-kept as the wrasslin’ ring.

Yes, I said it and it’s the truth.  In their front yard, they had a wrasslin’ ring!

I didn’t want to get out of the car, but Kathy insisted that, if they went to the trouble of cleaning for us and kicking all the kids and dogs out into the yard, we were, once spotted, obliged to go in.

I was afraid that would be the death of us, but clearly, it was not.

Forget Your Underwear We’re Free

I saw, over at Newscoma’s, these literary tattoos.  Needless to say, when I got to this one, it made me cry.

I’m on my way out for the day, but here’s something to think about:

I’m with you in Rockland

in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-

journey on the highway across America in tears

to the door of my cottage in the Western night

Is “I Dream a Highway” Welch’s take on “Howl“?