Letter to an immigrant worker 18.01.2016


Bourgeois writer who is trying to break Free

Somewhere in a privileged bourgeois housing

January 18th 2016


Brother immigrant worker from the grocery store

Somewhere in Brooklyn

Near St. Mary’s Episcopal Church


Dear brother immigrant worker from the grocery store,

As I marched along with brothers and sisters for Reclaim MLK Rally and March held in Brooklyn NYC, I walked past the shop where you work at. You saw us holding signs with messages like “Ningún Humano Es Illegal” and “End ICE/Police Terror Against Black and Brown People” while screaming “Stop Deportation!” Part of me was questioning myself why am I doing this? Would this really make a difference? Am I one of those egotistical privileged ‘Americans’ who are attempting to prove themselves that they are good people? I am wondering if you thought to yourself, what the heck are these foolish black, brown, white, and asian kids doing here? Don’t they have anything else to do? Don’t they have jobs, here I am working my ass off… Maybe you didn’t think like this at all, you know sometimes I overthink a lot, I try to guess what others are thinking hm I think I developed this because I have sorta inferiority complex so I try to convince myself that I know what others are thinking and that makes me feel good about myself almost like a mind-reading superhero haha don’t mind my foolishness and just to let you know I do mumble a lot sometimes. Brother but that smile of yours did something to me… That moment when you saw us marching and I saw you rushing to call your fellow co-workers and you all walked outside the grocery shop smiling and cheering for us – your smile pierced me like a flaming arrow! It sorta melted my icy-frozen heart and dam it was sure cold outside I think 18  Farenheit or -8  Celsius. My toes and hands were freezing and I curled and tucked my chin under the zipped collar of my coat in order warm myself up. Breathing under the collar helped me to warm myself a little bit but that smile of yours it just melted my heart. Please don’t misinterpret my words. I mean I saw through you, I saw through your loneliness, pain and discrimination you face everyday in this country that doesn’t welcome you and treats you like an object to be manipulated, used and thrown away just like this consumerist society does with all its products sold in the grocery shop you work at. I can somehow sense that this makes you feel like shit like you are something less than a human while you try to survive in this country that claims to live by the words “We the People”. I have witnessed that you are not considered part of “We the People” because you were not born here and you are undocumented – oh the authorities stab you time after time with the sharp as a knife word “ILLEGAL” and the common people follow blindly their actions . Brother I saw through you and witnessed the deep painful cuts in your heart. Oh these are still bleeding so much these cuts so much blood yes I saw them in a flash, in that smile of yours that blossomed with hope like a butterfly breaking out of its prison-like pupa. And you were dying almost dead but you broke free from that hopeless existence in which you almost begun to internalize from these hateful voices in your head: “You worthless piece of shit. Go back to your country.” You actually started to believe that you were less than a human as these voices from this oppressive system want you to believe and act so. These hateful voices they slowly start to crawl upon your being and eat into the deep cuts of your heart. And besides those hateful voices there is that hateful piercing stare by the customers who walk past you without acknowledging your existence as a human being imprisoned in a shitty job in which you try to perform your best I know you do my brother. You take all kinds of shit in order to send money to your family back home or maybe they are here with you in this country. I am starting to feel your pain brother. Ungrateful bastards! “I am the one who carries those back-breaking heavy boxes with fruits, vegetables and goodies and arranges them nicely so you can hoard it into your shopping basket, pay with a swipe of your credit card or cash if you prefer and leave the store satisfied like nothing really had happened.” I’m sorry here I am putting words that I am not really sure if you actually think this way. I’m sorry I have episodes of schizophrenic White Man’s Burden as I write this letter to you. My ego and my college education ingrained savior complex act like a wild monkey in my head sometimes. I am sorry I am putting words into a voice that is supposedly yours. I know I am practicing what many writers of bourgeoisie background do, to impose upon you their observations of you and your struggles. But, but that smile of yours, it did something to me I don’t know… your smile somehow kindled my heart and it tells me to write and write so here I am writing. Today is indeed an auspicious day, I mean it’s Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday yes that was the reason why we marched from St. Mary’s Episcopal Church in Brooklyn past the grocery store you work at. You know I think I am starting to sense that Martin Luther King Jr. didn’t really die! I believe his Love made him immortal! Yes he stills lives in each of one of our hearts burning to be awakened to the magic that is All-encompassing Love! No person, organization or state can kill someone burning with that Divine Love! Actually by killing them they actually help them complete their purpose on Earth, to awaken fellow beings to the beyond powerful power of Love! My dear brother, today I gain courage to say “I Love You” and I am starting to feel your pain, your struggle, your impotence and fear because any day the police or ICE (Immigration Customs Enforcement) can raid your house and deport you, your friends and family members if they are undocumented and staying in this country. I wish I could help you more my brother but as of now all I can say is a heartfelt “I Love You” and that I am here for you. You know I am still battling my wild monkey like ego and I am still very selfish because I seek personal happiness over the happiness of others. And I do have with lots and lots of flaws, imperfections and I am quite delusional as you can see though this letter. But I do strongly believe that Love is the key! Yes Love is the key! So let’s march together my brother let’s march! Let’s march for a better world in which Love burns and burns through people’s hearts!


With Love,

The bourgeois writer who is trying to break Free


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