Snatched? Where are the tears for American kids?

When I was 7 years old, my parents went through what I and my siblings were told was legal separation.

We were snatched away from them, kicking and screaming, by a social worker and placed in the Belleville Children’s Shelter in New Jersey while my parents attempted to work out their problems.

It would be days before we would see them again.

So I understand what the children being separated from their parents at the borders are going through. I, too, have felt the emotional tear that rips through a child as he or she is split from all they know and plunged into the unknown.

I, too, remember the vast room where we were put; the ugly, drab paint, the huge windows, the single-metal beds jammed together so tightly, there was just enough space between them to navigate.

I, too, remember being afraid, lost and feeling the emptiness and fear of not knowing what was going to happen. There is something about not having your mother around to cling to that seems to take everything inside you away.

Most people don’t understand what a psychological blow that is — or how its might stays around a long time.

So, yes, I will stand in solidarity for those children at the border ... but the hypocrisy of some Americans never fails to astonish me or challenge my sensibilities.

Over the last three weeks, a large body of Americans have rallied against the Trump administration’s policy of separating children from their parents at the border.

There have been rallies with tens of thousands of people pounding the pavement; boisterous, card-carrying protesters blocking streets; TV appearances where Democrats and Republicans decried the policy with puff-up sound bites; and let’s not forget the images of crying kids that would crack even the coldest heart.

All of that is the right thing for Americans to do and most certainly, the American way.

But over that same period, Americans also have showed they are riding a bull of hypocrisy and bucking like a rodeo rider holding on for dear life.

Here in the United States of America, snatching kids out of the arms of parents is nothing new and is as common as the common cold.

I doubt a day goes past in America where some kid isn’t snatched from his or her parents due to a law their parents broke.

But nobody is talking about that. There are thousands of children here in Connecticut under the care of the Department of Children and Families without their parents.

Where are the tears for them? Where are the thundering hooves of protests and the bullhorns of rage for them? Where are the shrinks en masse to help American kids deal with separation anxiety or the horrors of being abused, beaten, burned, molested, born addicted to crack, or raped by their parents?

Why is it that we see no evil or hear no evil when it comes to the plight of these American kids?

It just seems the hand of compassion for them is a closed fist.

Maybe we think they’re different because they’re American kids and not immigrants. They’re not. They’re America’s refugees.

Reader’s reaction to my last column, “Immigration? Lady Liberty, don’t you weep,” shows the vast number are sensitive to the plight of children detained at the borders, regardless of their views on immigration.

My heart will tug right along with theirs — but I will save my tears for American kids. They must be unnerved at having their nation cry out in horror at immigrant kids being separated from their families while the horns for them are largely muted.

Snatched? Where are the tears for American kids?