CUMBERLAND FORESIDE — His voice shook at first. “Excuse me,” he mumbled, head down, “this is my first time in front of people.”
He kept his head down, glancing up only furtively as he shared his poem. He spoke of the seagulls, and how he envied their freedom. His voice steadied and grew louder – more insistent – as he continued. He talked of Maine, noting that the sun here is like a light bulb in a refrigerator: light without warmth. He chuckled, and the room laughed with him. In that moment of shared emotion, his eyes started to shine.
He continued to smile as he spoke with confidence and pride, his voice strong and sure. As he finished his piece, the room hummed with the emotion of his words and his delivery. His genuine joy was so infectious that most of us were smiling, eyes shining with tears of pride and hope for this young man, so full of promise.
He was part of a group of immigrant students presenting their original work. As they disclosed the names of their native countries, it was clear that many were refugees from horrors beyond their control. One young woman was desperately homesick for her hometown. Another feared she would never look on her father’s face again – it is not uncommon for women and children to be allowed into the U.S. while men, viewed as too risky, are kept out.
But all of them, without exception, viewed Maine as home. Whether they’ve lived here for five years or five months, Maine is the place where they’re safe at last. It is the place where they can express themselves, learn without limits and have hope for a better life.
These kids need Maine, and, I would argue forcefully, Maine needs them. We need their energy, vitality, youth, perspective, skills and, yes, their numbers. We are the oldest state in the country, with no current trajectory to counter that trend. As more Mainers retire and leave the workforce, our tax base dwindles and our ability to provide basic government services to our people diminishes.
An older population means a higher health care cost burden, something few of us can afford. A state where a relatively small portion of the population is of working age is a state where it’s hard for existing businesses to thrive, and where it’s more difficult to entice new businesses to open here. Make no mistake: This is a looming crisis for the state of Maine, and immigrants are a way forward.
And so, it was these young faces – these shining, hopeful, exuberant faces – that rose in my mind as I learned of the Trump administration’s immigration and refugee ban. I read the list of countries affected by this irrational executive order, and my heart clenched. “How hurt and scared must these children be today?” I thought. “How could we betray them like this?”
Because when it comes right down to it, this patently un-American act is a betrayal. It’s a betrayal of our founding principles. It’s a betrayal of the nation that Ronald Reagan once referred to as “the shining city upon a hill.” It is a betrayal of the hopes and dreams that we inspire in those who look to us as a beacon of liberty and justice.
How can we call ourselves the “land of the free” and the “home of the brave,” if some of us are not free, and many are clearly fearful of anything or anyone different from themselves?
We can’t afford this unfounded fear. Not in this country, and certainly not here in Maine. Immigrants are our future. And, unless you’re one of the few who claim 100 percent Native American ancestry, they’re our past as well.
Our ancestors came to this country under the proud proclamation of our Statue of Liberty, “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free … .” Everyone deserves to have hope for a better life, and for centuries, that promise of a better life is what made our country the greatest in the world. We cannot and will not slam that door shut on those who need our compassion and empathy today.
I remember the refrigerator light bulb, and the moment that everyone in the room – black, brown, male, female, young, old, Muslim, Christian, Jewish or other – was just another Mainer, able to laugh together at an inside joke.
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