Separated at the Border? I was in Foster Care
I know what it feels like to be a child of the government. At the age of six, I was placed in foster care in Brooklyn. In under two years, I was shuttled between three different homes. My first was an emergency placement, designed to provide temporary shelter while my caseworker scrambled to find a longer-term foster home willing to take me in. Within a month, just enough time to grow attached to my warmhearted foster mother, I was removed.
A few weeks after joining my second foster family, I remember drifting awkwardly at the back of a restaurant after my foster parents asked me to stand aside while they, their four biological children and their cousins took an extended family photo. When they decided …
…let’s not give up until every child receives the unconditional love and individualized care they so desperately need — and that no government entity can come close to providing. I know what a poor substitute for a parent government can be. We can’t turn a blind eye to the child welfare crisis. It’s not just happening at the border. It’s happening next door.
