I know an American ‘internment’ camp when I see one
How many lives has the ill-advised family detention policy damaged?
Iwas born behind barbed wire 70 years ago in the Tule Lake Segregation Center. My parents’ only crime was having the face of the enemy. They were never charged or convicted of a crime; yet they were forced to raise mein a prison camp when President Franklin Roosevelt signed a wartime executive order ultimately authorizing the incarceration of 120,000 people of Japanese descent. Wewere deemed a danger to the “national security” and incarcerated without due process of law
Whenthe war ended, myfamily was moved to a prison camp in Crystal City, an isolated South Texas town. After four years of captivity, we were released. Decades later, our government acknowledged the injustice that had been committed. I never expected to return to Texas, and I certainly never expected to see other families incarcerated just as myown family had been 73 years ago. But this past year, the U.S. government created something that compelled meto go back.
The Dilley family detention facility, just 45 miles away from mychildhood prison, and another like it in Karnes . City, about 100 miles further away, are prison camps specifically dedicated to detaining women and children escaping horrific violence in Central America. At the Dilley dedication ceremony in January, Secretary of Homeland Security Jeh Johnson announced that the purpose of this facility was to deter families from fleeing to the United States and to send a message that “if you come here, you should not expect to simply be released.” By the estimate of Denise Gilman, director of the immigration clinic at the University
of Texas School of Law, as told to the Guardian for a May 22 story, 20 sets of mothers and young children have been held in the Karnes camp for more than six months.
OnWednesday, Johnson announced that Immigration and Customs Enforcement, a Homeland Security agency, is revising policies that will allow for shorter stays via conditional release of families now interned and expedited hearings known as “credible-fear” and “reasonablefear interviews.” Message received, loud and clear
Myrecent visit with mothers and children at the euphemistically named Karnes County “Residential Center” triggered distressing associations of my own experience as a child and underscored why ICE’s planned relief comes none too soon. We, too, lived in a constant state of fear and anxiety, never knowing what our fate would be. We, too, were forced to share our living space with strangers, line up for meals, share public latrines, respond to roll call and adjust to ever-changing rules and regulations with the eyes of the guards constantly trained on us.
The visiting room was a large, sterile space with tables and chairs. The guard, stern and ill-humored, served as a strict timekeeper over the precious 60-minute visit.
One mother grew tearful describing her five-month detention with no idea when or whether she would be deported or released. She had a looming interview to determine whether she had “credible fear” that her life would be at risk if she were deported. She told methat her 8-year-old daughter cries inconsolably whenever one of her little friends leaves the facility. I asked the girl, who cautiously looked over at the guard, to tell mewhat she thinks about when a friend leaves. In a whisper she told methat she’s afraid that her friend had to go back home where she could be killed. She had witnessed repeated violence against her own mother in their home.
Momtold methat the child is afraid to go to sleep, often refuses to eat the food, seems depressed and sad most of the time, and is becoming increasingly angry and disobedient. I asked the child what it is that makes it so difficult for her to sleep. She checked the whereabouts of the guard and reluctantly told methat she always thinks about the “giant scary dog” growling in her face. As she spoke, she was unable to hold back the tears. Mom, also tearful, explained that it happened when they were picked up by the Border Patrol.
I took a tissue out of mypocket and offered to wipe the girl’s tears, but she refused, shutting off her tears and withdrawing, a blank expression returning to her face. Desperately not wanting to lose contact with her, I remembered how to fold the tissue back and forth, peeling back sections of each sheet, to make a flower; I offered her this small gift. A smile filled her face, and in that moment, I saw the unguarded delight of a child as she held the fragile flower in her hand. But sadly, when the guard warned that the hour was almost up, she dropped her eyes, obediently standing and walking to the door that will be locked behind her.
Prison is no place for a child, and locking children up is inherently traumatic. Children are particularly susceptible to developing symptoms of trauma that persist long after the threat is removed. These often include hyper-vigilance, uncontrollable bouts of crying, sleep disturbance and depressed mood. Current research clearly shows that early childhood trauma can alter the person’s nervous system and make the child increasingly vulnerable to later mental health problems.
The women I spoke with at Karnes told meabout the violence and cruelty that had been a way of life — husbands who have beaten or abandoned them, or gangs that have targeted them to extort money. They have suffered beatings, rapes and betrayal with no hope that there will be protection from corrupt police. Nowthey come to America seeking safety and a better life, only to be locked up like the criminals they escaped. The trauma of unnecessary incarceration
WhenIdiscovered my mother’s prison diary 10 years ago, I learned that she lived with anxiety daily, not knowing how long we would be imprisoned. Would it be a few months? Afew years? She never knew where we would be sent next. Finally one day she wrote, “I wonder if today is the day they’re going to line us up and shoot us.”
I didn’t realize until decades later that she suffered from posttraumatic stress as a consequence of the incarceration. I wonder how many lives, just like my mother’s, the U.S. government is needlessly and cruelly damaging today for its ill-advised “family detention” program.
The incarceration of innocent women and children seeking asylum in America tragically replicates the racism, hysteria and failure of political leadership of 1942.
Andeven as I wonder why we have not learned from the past, I’m hopeful that with Johnson’s announcement last week, it’s a sign that we are making progress. Ina is professor emeritus, California State University, Sacramento. She has a private psychotherapy practice in Sacramento and Berkeley specializing in the treatment of trauma. A version of this commentary first appeared on the ACLU’s blog.