REFLECTION
The Invisible Poverty of
Immigrants
Many of us have been devoted to pastoral work with Hispanic immigrants
in the state of Wisconsin, some for over 20 years, and we have come to know a
great number of stories and memories which would take too many pages to tell. These
are amazing stories of strength, determination and effort in order to build a
better future.
The pastoral care of immigrants through Catholic parishes has allowed us
to get to know many Hispanic families and their struggles, joys, achievements
and, many times, their frustrations. Numerous studies have been published about
their social, cultural and economic dynamics, as well as their difficult
process of integration to the US society.
But until I had the opportunity to live and work among them, I did not
realize something that almost all of these families have in common. I am not
referring to their fragile legal situation, or their faith beliefs and traditions,
or their cultural identity. It is something common to both those few who have
thrived in the US, and the many who struggle every day to feed their families,
keep their humble homes and pay their bills, those who sacrifice themselves so
that their sons and daughters, one day, may accomplish their dreams in the
“country of opportunities.”
When these people crossed the southern border of the US hoping for a
better life, both for themselves and especially for their children, they left something
paramount behind, on “the other side.” Something
you cannot replicate, as you can do with your favorite dishes, music, clothing
or religious devotions. This “something” are people. They left behind their
parents and grandparents, their elders.
At any given Sunday, if you walk into a Spanish Mass in the US, you will
notice the lack of elderly people in the pews. The Church is filled with young
people, children and hardworking adults who toil themselves tirelessly to better
the lives of their families. But we hardly find any elders. Where are they?
They were left behind, in the towns and villages where our immigrants came
from, refusing to risk a journey that made no sense to them, or which they
simply couldn’t make. Over and over again we have witnessed the split that
divides families as a result of emigration: we see families living in the US that
have not seen their elders for five, ten or even twenty years, in spite of the
fact that they live a mere 3 hours flight time away from one another.
On the other hand, if you go into Mexico or other countries further south,
you will find plenty of elderly people who have not seen their children for
decades, with the exception of the opportunities offered nowadays by social
networks. Working in towns and communities in these places, we have been able
to meet some of these people, and they tell us about the journeys their loved
ones once decided to risk in their route to the North. Their parents have not
been able to witness their children’s weddings, nor have they ever met their
sons and daughters in law, or been able to embrace their grandchildren. We meet
mothers who will never be able to stand next to their daughters when they give
birth to the children who will make up the next generation, in the same way, on
“the other side,” we talk to young adults who know that they will never make it
to their parent’s funeral, and children who will grow up without ever meeting
their grandparents.
Walking with the Hispanic community of Southeastern Wisconsin, I have
met those who risked themselves for a new life in this country, but I have
learned to see the emptiness felt by those who are missing. In addition to
material poverty due to poor employment, lack of health security or legal
status, I have come to know an invisible but real poverty:
the absence of the elders.
In any society, elders contribute a great deal to family life. Whether
they are our parents, grandparents, uncles and aunties or simply neighbors,
they share their life experience and wisdom through their presence among us. They
give advice, listen to us, give us a hand or sometimes are simply there in all
instances of life, at celebrations, or when we cry or tire because of our daily
struggles.
Their absence becomes an additional burden that impoverishes this
generation of people who, not that long ago, crossed a border dreaming of a
better life. Fighting to make family reunions possible is not just a matter of
justice. It is a necessity in order to give stability to millions of families
in which the men and women of the future are being born and raised.
Pablo Cirujeda
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