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Connecticut September 25th 2019 – 6:05 p.m.
Silence. You could hear a pin drop. Every family on the street had come together in Andrea’s living room for the announcement. The Johnsons, the Starks, the Makis, the Seales, the Joneses with their new baby. There were at least 20 people sitting and standing together in the modest space, shoulder to shoulder and drinks in hand, but no one spoke. Even Baby Jones, the fussiest baby ever seemed to sense the somberness of the moment and refused to cry. And it was all because absolutely no one expected to hear what they had just heard. A lone voice boomed from the TV set as they all watched in quiet disbelief.
“Once again, the International Council for Peace has just announced that all immigrants, worldwide, are to return to their country of origin by the year 2021. As you know, this decision has come after years of conventions, protests and unrest in all major cities. The world leaders have signed the Order and are in the process of making final arrangements in their respective countries for the influx – and outflow- of many people. But, you know Jim; this is for the best, isn’t it? I mean, what do you think?”
Jim, the popular co-anchor, looked uncomfortable, put-upon and sad, but then for the briefest moment, he was angry. If you blinked, you would have missed it, because as quickly as they were there, those emotions evaporated and were replaced by the almost tangible resolve to get through the piece. “Definitely, Joan!” he exclaimed cheerfully, “I know my family and I can’t wait to go back to Antigua and out of the cold!” “Antigua! Is that in Africa?” “No, Joan” he chuckled. “The beautiful, Caribbean, you should come vis-…” Their banter was cut short as Andrea turned off the set. Once again, the room was filled with a suffocating silence, but this time, they all knew what the other was thinking, but they were all hesitant to speak up. Andrea was the first one to burst the bubble.
“So, I guess that’s that…” she said with a forced cheerfulness, reminiscent of Jim’s resignation just a moment before. Her neighbor and best friend, Emma, on the other hand was not having it.
“No, Andrea, that is not that! THAT is outrageous! How can they do this to you? Why should you have to leave the US just because you’re black? This is shitty. This is wrong. We can’t just stand by and…”
“Stand by and what, Emma?” Samuel Maki from across the street piped up. “Stand by and let this happen? That’s all we’ve been doing for the last 5 years! And this is the result. We have no one to blame but ourselves, Emma. No one but ourselves” The last line was a whisper as the weight of the announcement seemed to crush him and he fell to his knees. “Come on, John,” said Steven Jones as he held his newborn, “It’s not Emma’s fault! She was just trying to help!” From his position on his knees, Samuel looked up at Steven slowly. “It’s too late for anyone to help, can’t you see? You speak to me from a position of privilege. From a place of superiority. But, Mr. Jones, as they pack us up and ship us out, please remember that we were once all immigrants. Don’t ever forget that!” Samuel Maki crumpled to the floor and began to sob as his wife Tayo took her position by his side and cradled him to her bosom. One by one the other neighbors left the party - those who would not be forced out of their homes, those who once again were allowed to hide behind that imaginary wall called “White privilege”, they all silently filed out of the living room and into the night.
Connecticut
September 25th 2019 – 6:05 p.m.
Silence.
You could hear a pin drop. Every family on the street had come together in Andrea’s living room for the announcement. The Johnsons, the Starks, the Makis, the Seales, the Joneses with their new baby. There were at least 20 people sitting and standing together in the modest space, shoulder to shoulder and drinks in hand, but no one spoke. Even Baby Jones, the fussiest baby ever seemed to sense the somberness of the moment and refused to cry. And it was all because absolutely no one expected to hear what they had just heard. A lone voice boomed from the TV set as they all watched in quiet disbelief.
“Once again, the International Council for Peace has just announced that all immigrants, worldwide, are to return to their country of origin by the year 2021. As you know, this decision has come after years of conventions, protests and unrest in all major cities. The world leaders have signed the Order and are in the process of making final arrangements in their respective countries for the influx – and outflow- of many people. But, you know Jim; this is for the best, isn’t it? I mean, what do you think?”
Jim, the popular co-anchor, looked uncomfortable, put-upon and sad, but then for the briefest moment, he was angry. If you blinked, you would have missed it, because as quickly as they were there, those emotions evaporated and were replaced by the almost tangible resolve to get through the piece. “Definitely, Joan!” he exclaimed cheerfully, “I know my family and I can’t wait to go back to Antigua and out of the cold!”
“Antigua! Is that in Africa?”
“No, Joan” he chuckled. “The beautiful, Caribbean, you should come vis-…” Their banter was cut short as Andrea turned off the set. Once again, the room was filled with a suffocating silence, but this time, they all knew what the other was thinking, but they were all hesitant to speak up. Andrea was the first one to burst the bubble.
“So, I guess that’s that…” she said with a forced cheerfulness, reminiscent of Jim’s resignation just a moment before. Her neighbor and best friend, Emma, on the other hand was not having it.
“No, Andrea, that is not that! THAT is outrageous! How can they do this to you? Why should you have to leave the US just because you’re black? This is shitty. This is wrong. We can’t just stand by and…”
“Stand by and what, Emma?” Samuel Maki from across the street piped up. “Stand by and let this happen? That’s all we’ve been doing for the last 5 years! And this is the result. We have no one to blame but ourselves, Emma. No one but ourselves” The last line was a whisper as the weight of the announcement seemed to crush him and he fell to his knees. “Come on, John,” said Steven Jones as he held his newborn, “It’s not Emma’s fault! She was just trying to help!” From his position on his knees, Samuel looked up at Steven slowly. “It’s too late for anyone to help, can’t you see? You speak to me from a position of privilege. From a place of superiority. But, Mr. Jones, as they pack us up and ship us out, please remember that we were once all immigrants. Don’t ever forget that!” Samuel Maki crumpled to the floor and began to sob as his wife Tayo took her position by his side and cradled him to her bosom. One by one the other neighbors left the party - those who would not be forced out of their homes, those who once again were allowed to hide behind that imaginary wall called “White privilege”, they all silently filed out of the living room and into the night.