Letter to Mr. President

Dear Señor Mr. President,

            I write to you because I’ve be mad all week and I really think most of it is your fault. I have lost my mom, not in a horrible way, the ICE officers said that she was fine even though she was crying and bleeding from the hand-chains they put on her. She was not the only one, there were four other girls younger than my mom put in the ICE truck. I knew it was la migra, since we got here we are not afraid of ‘el coco’ anymore, we hide from those ‘soldados’ that you hired  to take people and send them back to México. 

            Señor Mr. President, let me tell you, my mother is a good person, she has never hurt anybody never never. I know, I have been her daughter all my life, you only have been president for two years and you think you know that she is bad, you are wrong. I know it was you that took her, mi tío Humberto told me.

 “Es ese presidente que nos quedó mal, denantes no nos querían porque’ramos una bola de mensos que trabajábamos como burros y si nos maltrataban no reclamábamos nada, ahora que creaibamos que teníamos un presidente bueno, nos chinga igual que los otros, pero con más mentiras.

Mi tío, he is a little enojón, but he tells the meritita verdá. He gets angry and throws bottles at people and he sings “I am Joaquín” on the street. Grita y grita: Mr. President somos muy pobres, we have no money. At the barrio vivimos mi tío, mi mamá y yo. That until you had her taken away. Now they are saying mi tío está loco. I don’t believe it, he drinks a lot, but I thought only poor people did it to forget they are chained to their sad lives.

I ask of you one thing Mr. President, give us what you promised.

Anita Fernández, 12.