Friend of the Voiceless: A Visit to the Texas Border

"Grant me courage to serve others; for in service there is true life." - Cesar Chavez

They filed in quietly, carrying packets of legal documents, with the exception of the four-year old, who was escorted by a child advocate. All of them "unaccompanied minors" age 4 to age 17, dressed like any American kid: jeans, sneakers and Nike t-shirts with their hair neatly combed. 

But they are not any other kids. They have made the treacherous and dangerous journey to the United States in search of a better life. They should be passing the summer day with their friends, but today they are here in immigration court, caught in a complex legal limbo with their fate to be determined at a later date. Despite the weary faces they are also resilient, glancing behind cracking a smile at the strangers sitting behind them while responding respectfully and politely to the judge throughout the proceedings.

As an advocate who works on national policy, it's important to get a frontline perspective that helps inform our national policy positions and listen to local organizations on the ground who are helping vulnerable children. That's why I went to Harlingen, Texas last month. Harlingen is a small border town at the center of the national conversation on immigration; poverty is a persistent challenge here.

On our the second day in town, our host has brought us to immigration court to observe how unaccompanied minors are being moved through the legal system. 

The immigration court is a nondescript federal building - it could be the Department of Motor Vehicles - with a lobby filled with mostly children. It was difficult not to sympathize with the children. Any one of them could have been my grandmother who made the same journey, or my daughter, also 14 years old.  

I was also taken by the attorneys from ProBAR.  Like their clients, they have made a deliberate journey to the Rio Grande Valley to advocate for those navigating the system.  Often they are right out of law school, coming to this town just 15 miles from the Mexican border, encompassed by a perimeter of immigration checkpoints, and surrounded by poverty.

With much of the media coverage focused on the plight of the families who have been separated, the unaccompanied minors and the detention conditions, little attention is given to those guardians of justice and humanity behind the headlines. The ProBAR attorney in the court that day, a young earnest Latino, fluent in Spanish and with a reassuring demeanor that puts the children at ease, was seated at the defendants table with the judge before him and the children behind him. He said little throughout the proceedings, appearing as a "friend of the court". But he is more than that. He's a friend of the voiceless.
 
ProBAR is a nonprofit legal service organization that represents detained children and adults who are seeking asylum, and legal status in the United States.  They work with an intricate network of child advocates, immigration attorneys across the country, and emergency shelters fighting for the best possible outcome on behalf of their clients.

As we met with the staff of ProBAR it became apparent that they were committed, tireless advocates who have given up location, compensation and other social amenities. They do this work without recognition, and although their clients are appreciative, it is unlikely they can truly understand that their attorney has made a similar journey to the border to practice law that ensures them equitable access to justice.

For me this trip could have been about the despair and the weary faces of the children, any one of whom could have been my daughter or grandmother.

Instead, it was about renewal and inspiration.  Renewing my understanding of my grandmother's journey and illegal crossing of the border in search of a better life.  And finding inspiration from the young Latino attorneys who, each day, are a voice and advocate for the least of these children. Watching and listening to them operate with such passion and urgency has renewed my commitment to being an advocate for those who are voiceless and marginalized.