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    Spring backward. #photoaday #flowerstagram #firstdayofspring #spring #lastofwinter ❄️❤️ So yesterday, I ran a poetry workshop at a middle school and hearing the words from these youth, I feel a lot better about the world. One boy wrote a poem & was very shy about reading it. I offered to read it for him. To my surprise, he wrote about people wanting freedom and not being “illegal.” I hope he finds the courage some day to read the poem because these days, hate voices itself louder than love. Our kids deserve better role models. I didn’t grow up thinking about my immigration status, but I think many children have to now. 💔I’m at a very low point in my hope bank. I’m taking notes on how to say goodbye to a country. I think one way is love and one way is poetry.
#loveislouder #happyworldpoetryday This Sunday I made it to church at a Unitarian Universalist congregation. I arrived as a panelist for an immigration and human rights discussion. My audience was majority White. I started with a poem and then my college journey narrative. It is a heavy feeling to be a person who potentially faces deportation or undocumented status and to stand in front of an audience that though sympathetic, cannot imagine what your world is like. They listened to me and the other panelists very actively. One of the panelists, Klara Bilgin, showed us this poster-size cover of Time magazine’s March issue with her own addition “Why America?” At the end I was surprised that most people had comments rather than questions. When we say immigration is a controversial issue or a “hot topic,” it’s true. I got to see it today by people commenting on their experience traveling abroad without borders or their observations of how much labor is expected of undocumented immigrants. Many of them were proposing solutions. I wish Congress were as productive as these people were in their 15 or so minutes to comment and ask questions. #rageatCongress #votesmart #speakup Little sister poem. Be woke.❤️ #ajamonet #poem
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1,000 miles: step 67- the tuition monster

Some of us believe in monsters, hiding under beds. Quite harmless manifestations of childhood fears.

I know a more hated, detrimental monster. The Tuition Monster was born of grown up children’s financial nightmares. Escaping this monster isn’t easy; it comes with the price of education. I know not all people are living under this monster’s shadows. But some of us are still running.

This upcoming school semester, I have gotten far away from the tuition monster. Though not far enough. The monster lures in blatant obstacles. Bills pop up. The car needs fixing. Visit to the dentist. Visit to the dentist. The car needs gas. The car needs gas. Bus rides. Household supplies. The car needs gas. The car needs gas.

I find myself in routine. Driving mom to work. Driving myself to work. There are days when I’ve automatically made and exit, and panic for a few seconds, because I wasn’t really there for that turn. I wasn’t really there. Sometimes, I’m not really here.

Like grief, the tuition monster moves in with your thoughts and doesn’t pay rent.

In fact, the monster has the nerve to demand rent from me. But I’m tired of our arguments.  

Yes, I’m going out without you… no, I haven’t found another monster.

Yes, you’re moving out soon. No, I don’t want you back.

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