The Lies I Hear From Anti-Immigrant Racists I Thought Were My Friends

In the era of republican grievance and hatred, I'm no longer content to listen to platitudes about how "it's not that bad"

Whenever my wife leaves the house, I wonder if this will be the day she does not return. Or my kids, as I drop them off at school. Will this be the last time I see them turn, smile and wave goodbye?

The cesspool is rising. The slime gathers around our ankles. It’s getting harder to walk. Four years ago it was at our knees. Today it’s at our necks.

Random people offer their condolences.

“We hate other immigrants, but not you, no, you’re fine!”

“It’s the illegal ones we hate. But not you.”

“You’re cute and sassy and you have a delightful accent. You’re totally fine.”

“Why would you have a problem with me saying that? Aren’t you listening? I’m telling you that you’re fine. I’m telling you that I don’t have a problem with you. I have a problem with the illegals because they’re breaking the law. Not you. You’re fine.”

In my mind they dress in 60s fashion. They wear those lime green jackets like the wives of NASA astronauts. They have matching triangle earrings and glasses, white gloves and a bob haircut. Always laughing, ever miserable.

“You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine!”

Pause for breath.

“But I sure do hate those other people.”

“We hate the undocumented, but we don’t hate you.”

All I hear is:

“We hate… hate… you.”

Smile. Laugh. Giggle. Glance. Repeat.

“You’re fine.”

You can see them working through this. They’re swimming against the current. The effort is exhausting them.

They’ll talk about how people shouldn’t trust the government. They’ll say the government is tyrannical. But they also insist you must declare yourself at the government’s doors.

Even in their heads, a little voice whispers “You shouldn’t hate anyone.” But they know that can’t be true. We need to hate sinners right? We need to hate the unlawful. Isn’t that what they say at church?

Maybe, but it’s not what they say in the Bible.

Love thy neighbor.

They always forget that one.

They smile and laugh. Oh, how naive you are. Yes, that’s what it says, but it’s not what it really means. Obviously that’s not what it means. We can’t have lawlessness after all. We can’t have illegals. People can’t be allowed to break the law.

“But you did it legally, so you’re fine. No swimming for you. Ha ha!”

After a while, you start to get it. They have to convince themselves. They’re giving themselves a pep talk. They need programming. They need to hear the justifications. But which way are they going? What is the final purpose to this inner dialogue?

“I’d like to kill, dismember, and eat this person, but I’ve sworn off meat.”

“I can’t eat meat.”

“I can’t eat you.”

“I have to lose 15 pounds by January.”

“It’s okay for me to feel threatened.”

“I am allowed to defend myself.”

They glance at you over their coffee. The antique cup is pastel green except for a small white chip near the rim. Lime green. It matches their jacket. The chip matches their gloves.

You can see the eyes over the rim. The mechanism churns. It’s turning, turning, turning.

Human beings are animals. We recognize the eyes of a predator in the darkness.

“You’re fine.”

“I’m not going to kill you.”

“I’m not coming after you.”

“Why are you mad?”

“I’m coming after the people who look like you, and talk like you, and act like you, and come from the same place you came from. But not you. Never you. Why would you think that? You’re so silly. Ha ha ha ha ha!”

Oh, what delight.

“Why so tense?”

“Now you’re starting to make me feel uncomfortable.”

“It’s not right that I feel uncomfortable.”

“How dare you judge me.”

“You’re not even from here.”

“I don’t know how they do things where you come from, but if you want to live here you have to adapt to our way of doing things.”

What must it be like to live behind those glassy eyes, subject to the constant message of a blaring catchphrase? Who changes the recording? Not them. The message is downloaded from the television, from social media, from presidential tweets.

It grows like rust.

Exposure is incessant. They can’t listen and be unchanged.

They think it’s a pep talk.

The cesspool rises.

“Not you.”

“Not you.”

“Not you.”

“Well…maybe you, but just a little.”

“Why shouldn’t I say what I feel?”

“I like people who say what they think.”

“I like people who speak their mind.”

“The 1st Amendment says…”

“The 2nd Amendment says…”

“Okay, now I’m saying it but only because you provoked me. You do make me nervous. Yes you. What are you going to do about it? How can you make my life better? Are you going to attack me? What? You are! How dare you! We should never have let you in here! Never! Never! Never!”

Every day I wonder.

Will today be the day?

We’re not fine.

We’re not close to fine.

You hate us.

You say it every day.

You say it and then you deny it and then you laugh. Then you say it again.

We’ve done nothing to you.

You’re inventing a transgression so when you attack you can call it self-defense.

The only real threat is the rising cesspool.

That sticky, liquid, ever-accumulating hatred that’s up to our necks now…

It’s coming from you.

Stop.

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