I told my children that our government was ripping children from the arms of parents just looking for safety.
I told them that Dad and I were upset about it–and it was making us mad and tearful and we were going to watch something stupid on TV because we’d been thinking about it all day and we couldn’t do anything–our senators and representative are appalled already–and we needed a brain break.
And they cried.
And sat and watched an adorably stupid rom-com with us, and laughed even though they weren’t remotely interested.
Because families should be together.
Anyone participating in or justifying the abomination happening in the country’s detention centers is complicit in child abuse, child neglect, crimes against humanity and being just a fucking pig-monster-pile of vomit.
Anybody who can look their children in the eyes and say, “Yes, it’s okay, because they’re foreign children,” doesn’t deserve children.
Yes, I really feel that way.
Hasn’t changed since Sunday.
I could live to 150 years old, and it should never change.
I mean Jesus–my kids were gone at Kids-to-Work day with their father and I missed them. If someone locked them away without sunlight or hugs or each other, I would not come out sane on the other side.
I’d come out frothing at the mouth, yearning to find the fucking pig-monsters who did this to my children.
I’d come out wanting to make somebody pay.
Well done, America.
Our children just inherited one fucking awful debt.