Growing up in California, I have been around immigrants all my life. They have been my classmates, housekeepers, teachers, nurses and friends. I am well aware that many of them harvest the food I eat and build the structures I walk into.
Mateo, a Mexican immigrant who’s been gardening for people close to me since 2012, speaks to me in Spanish. He knows I take Spanish classes, so when I see him, he’ll ask me simple questions and we’ll both chuckle as I struggle through the sentence structures and conjugations. Once, he was kind enough to show me a bird’s nest in my backyard.
When hearing about Immigration and Customs Enforcement pulling immigrants from their workplaces and public parking lots, my first thought was him. I think about his wife, and the fact that I know where his son went to school. I think about this happening to kind and hardworking immigrants all over the United States.
As I write this, I am in Los Angeles for the week celebrating Father’s Day, arriving shortly after the deployment of the National Guard into the city. As I read about officers using rubber bullets and tear gas at a protest on June 14 in downtown L.A., I think about Jewish values.
Working at the Chronicle, I’ve connected more deeply with my Jewish roots. In March, I traveled to Milwaukee to do some in-person reporting. While I was there, I visited The Deli on Crown, met with a representative of J-Pride Milwaukee, visited services at a local synagogue, and much more. I’ve been part of many Zoom interviews with Jewish Wisconsinites, too.
I’ve come to recognize the thread of Jewish values not only in my own life, but in the lives of other Jews as well. My conversation with one person in Jewish Wisconsin included a mildly uncomfortable but meaningful conversation involving a family member, which ended with both of us laughing. From that exchange, I learned more about chesed (compassion). Speaking with J-Pride representatives, I learned about the impact of policy on LGBTQ+ people, and this experience really brought home the meaning of tzedek (justice). I see other Jewish values, like tikkun olam (repairing the world), and tzedakah (charity), in my work at the Chronicle all the time, story after story.
To make sense of current events, I find myself drawing upon these values.
How can it be tikkun olam (repairing the world) when mothers and fathers, with families depending on them, must leave?
How can it be chesed (compassion) when the government’s response to protesters appears to lack empathy for those involved?
How can it be tzedakah (charity), when we think, “at least it’s not happening to me”?
How can it be tzedek (justice) when we fear punishment for peacefully protesting, a constitutional right?
I think about my Jewishness in this moment, knowing that Jewish people have a long history of immigration. My grandmother immigrated to the United States with her parents when she was a toddler after the Holocaust. But they had to wait 10 years to gain residency before moving here for a better life.
Many immigrants feel they can’t afford to wait for a slow immigration process, as staying in their home countries would put them in danger. Maybe they are trying to escape economic hardship, unemployment, violence or political instability. Everyone deserves a fair opportunity to achieve legal status without the fear of immediate removal.
These issues aren’t distant or theoretical — they impact people I know and care about. That’s why it’s so important to remember individual stories, like Mateo’s. Consider the experience of a friend of a friend, real people whose lives are shaped by these challenges and not just numbers in the unending news cascade.
I want to live in a country where the safety of Mateo’s loved ones is not a constant concern. Do you?
Mateo’s real name has been changed for publication. This is an opinion piece, not necessarily representative of the views of the Chronicle or its publisher. The Chronicle seeks to publish a variety of opinions.
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Writer Kate Alter is a Wisconsin Jewish Chronicle intern. She is a senior at the University of Missouri, where she is studying journalism. Her opinions are her own and are not necessarily representative of those of the Chronicle or its publisher. The Chronicle seeks to publish a variety of opinions.
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