"My dad's passport is among his most valuable possessions, a document that not only establishes that he's a U.S. citizen but holds the story of his life. It states that he was born in Mexico in 1951 and is decorated with stamps from the regular trips he takes to his home state of Zacatecas. Its cover is worn but still strong, like its owner, a 74-year-old retired truck driver."
"Just because you're a citizen doesn't mean you're safe, I told my dad, who favors places - car washes, hardware stores, street vendors, parks, parties - where immigrants congregate and no one cares who has legal status and who doesn't. "Exagera," my dad replied - Trump exaggerates. As a citizen, my dad reasoned he now had rights. He didn't have to worry like in the old days."
My father's passport is a cherished object that proves U.S. citizenship and records his life, including his 1951 birth in Mexico, frequent trips to Zacatecas and a worn but sturdy cover. He entered the United States at 18 hidden in a car trunk and later worked in a carpet factory. He prefers places where immigrants gather, believing citizenship protects him. During intensified immigration raids under the Trump administration, authorities detained people who looked Latino, including some U.S. citizens, holding them for hours or sending them to out-of-state detention centers. The raids revived old fears and undermined the sense of safety his passport symbolizes.
Read at Los Angeles Times
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