Give Me Your Tired, Your Poor
I feel terrible for the Syrian refugees. We, as Americans, always have to consider terrorist threats but these refugees live with them on a daily basis. Think about that. We have the occasional act of terror, gang violence, and random acts of evil but they literally lived in a warzone.
Assad targets civilians with bombs and chemical weapons. ISIS takes over towns and brutally plunders cities and leaves the townsfolk for dead. Over a quarter of a million people are dead in a country so small. Half of the country’s population has been displaced from their homes. I’m sure they didn’t want to leave their homes. Would you? But they decided to pack what little they had to look for a better life.
Do you know who else left their home to find a better life? Hmmmm… The family of almost every American ever. For all those who want to turn away the refugees, I wish the Statue of Liberty gave your ancestors a big middle finger and turned them away because you are un-American.
“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
I know, I’m overlooking the security issue. I get it but we take risks every day. Every time we get into a car we drastically increase our risk of injury. We use seatbelts, and airbags, and invoke traffic laws to limit risk, but we do not stop driving. I’m probably oversimplifying the analogy but my point still holds true. We can and should do everything possible to weed out those who wish us harm, but please do not throw out the baby with the bathwater.
These people need safety. These people need opportunity. These people need love. If our country can’t give them that, then I’m sure not we can continue to call this country America.