“Nos niegan en cada paso.”
Deny us at every turn.
Another thump over his fiercely beating heart. But he’s not the only one now. Many others have raised their hands to their own chest, and it catches on like wildfire. Hands beating on hearts in tandem.
“No estoy diciendo que todos sean el enemigo… pero los que lo son deben rendir cuentas.”
I’m not saying they are all the enemy. But those who are must be held accountable.
“No puedo decirles nada que no sepan ya.”
And I cannot tell you anything else that you don’t already know.
“Esto está mal.”
This is wrong.
“Esto es injusto.”
This is unjust.
“No podemos seguir permitiéndolo.”
We can no longer let it stand.
“Así que solo me queda una pregunta.”
So I have only one question left to ask of you.
“¿Están conmigo? ¿No es hora de levantarnos y corregir este gran error?”
Are you with me? Is it not time we rise up and set this great wrong, right?
Mateo, standing beside Julio, squeezes his arm so hard it hurts.
“Tiene razón… por fin alguien dice la verdad.”
He’s right… Finally, someone is speaking the truth.
Julio swallows hard. His brother’s pain is real. This, the pain of his people, is real. But it’s more personal to see it echo outward from his brother. Because he has watched Alejandro drown in it for more years than he cares to name.
Alejandro’s wife and two daughters earned citizenship legally. He tried. He tried for years, but no matter how hard he worked or how much he paid with his labor, blood, and sweat, he was denied. Over and over again. In the end, he was deported. That’s when he saw the last bit of hope leave the man he had always looked up to.
He’s not bitter. He’s enraged and terrified of losing the only thing that holds meaning in his life, and he’s fed the fuck up. Years of paperwork, interviews, fees, all of it. Then one day, men with badges and guns took him from the factory floor, dragging him away as if everything he had done to prove himself worthy meant nothing. They held him captive for nearly two months before deporting him.
He tried to sneak back in to see his family. The first time, they shot him. If Julio hadn’t found him that night in the desert, he would have died.
Julio feels the anger too. That guard shot his brother and left him bleeding in the dirt. He wants change. He wants justice. He wants it all to end.
But he does not agree that this is the only way.
Alejandro lives inside his rage. He stands here preaching war to a crowd ready to burn the world for him. When he raises his fist again, others raise theirs to the sky.
“Ya no vamos a rogar. Ya no vamos a esperar. Mañana derribamos ese muro. Mañana vamos por nuestras familias. No pueden arrebatárnoslas y negarnos el derecho a estar con ellas.”
We will not beg anymore. We will not wait anymore. Tomorrow we tear down that wall. Tomorrow we go to take back our families. They cannot take them from us and deny us the right to be with them.
The crowd erupts. More fists pump into the air. Fire in the barrels around the courtyard flares as the aggression grows. Men raise their rifles and thrust them skyward, stomping their feet.
