I want you to look at this picture.
I want you to internalize it. I want you to memorize every detail of it. I want you to write the story in your head of the events leading to this penultimate moment.
A father and his 2 year old daughter dead. Without any of the traditional dressings and ceremony of death they lie exposed to the waters, and the sun and the judging eyes of a country that frankly doesn’t care about how they arrived at this point, only that they have, indeed, arrived.
The outrage from this photo exists not in that we have born witness to the extermination of young life over imaginary borders, but in that someone was bold enough to force us to confront that death through the public documentation and dissemination of it’s proof.
A father risked everything for the hope that it might be better across the water. He believed in an America that would rescue him and his daughter both literally and figuratively. Unfortunately he believed in an America that has long since died and given way to a callous “better them than me” attitude. “There but for the Grace of God go I,” and “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free” exist with conditions and bars too high to meet.
Look at that picture and tell me if the America that man sought for his daughter is the America you live in today.
I have to imagine if he knew what we did, he wouldn’t have crossed those waters.