On the Peace Arch, a monument on the border between Washington state and British Columbia, there is an inscription: “Children of a common mother.”
I can take this almost literally. I am American, but I am Canadian, too.
My mother immigrated from Canada in 1978. She was born in Paris, Ontario, and her mother took her and her siblings to the United States for a better life. My family is spread across two countries with family members in Sussex County, New Jersey, Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, San Jose, California, and Victoria and Chilliwack, British Columbia. I spent my childhood hopscotching back and forth across the border. The border never seemed like a real divide; it meant getting out my coin purse filled with loonies and toonies, a passport, and an annoying wait behind a line of cars.
I love both countries, just like I love my family who live on both sides of the border. I am filled with gratitude that I have not been forced to pick a side, but so many people don’t have that privilege.
I don’t have to choose because my family is spread across Canada and the US, not the US and Mexico, or the US and one of the seven predominantly Muslim countries I don’t have to. 60 to 100 thousand people's lives have been upended and with the controversial "Mexico Wall" plan, more and more families are going to be torn apart. This is not the time to be quiet or polite.
I am able to trace my history back (of privilege that so many don’t have) on both sides. I have in my family tree Italian and Irish immigrants who came through Ellis Island, and British colonists who settled in the 17th century. Some were wealthy and privileged, and others were feared and reviled (consider how people used to talk about Catholics). My family tree is twisted up branches, oppressed and oppressor wound together, planted on stolen land.
America is a land of immigrants.
On January 29th, I attended a rally at the Peace Arch with 1,000 others. We screamed “No ban, no wall” and waved signs. Cars of people going home or visiting the States or Canada drove by, they honked, leaned out of their cars to smile or take pictures of us. Some people kept driving and averted their eyes. We listened to speakers, community leaders who told us to work together, stay safe, and listen to each other.
Activism isn’t perfect; we all have to work to be more inclusive and accessible to all people and not just the able-bodied and socioeconomically secure. But as the travel ban continues, and the plan for the “Mexico Wall” go forth, we can’t get complacent. We have to go to protests (if possible), and we have to use our voices.
Inside the arch, there is another inscription: “May these gates never be closed.”
I hope they were right -- but it’s other gates that we have to keep fighting for, so all of our families will stay intact.