“I'm attending a monthly meeting at Colectiva Por Fin on my first night on Staten Island. The room is small but as more men come in, it seems to double and triple in size. On the wall, migrants are celebrated through art that strikes me as deeply annoying, mostly the word "migrant" reconfigured as butterflies. I fucking hate thinking of migrants as butterflies. Butterflies can't fuck a bitch up.” ButterfliesMigrantsUndocumented ImmigrantsUndocumented WorkersUndocumentedDay Laborers Book:The Undocumented Americans Source: The Undocumented Americans
“Before visiting Staten Island, I'd never met a day laborer. To me, a city girl who knew undocumented men mostly as restaurant workers, day laborers seemed like an almost mythical archetype, groups of brown men huddled at the crack of dawn on street corners next to truck rental lots and hardware superstores and lumberyards. Historically, legislators and immigration advocates have parted the sea of the undocumented with a splintered staff—working brown men and women on one side and academically achieving young brown people on the other, one a parasitic blight, the other heroic dreamers.” ImmigrantsLaborersDreamersUndocumented ImmigrantsUndocumented WorkersUndocumentedDay Laborers Book:The Undocumented Americans Source: The Undocumented Americans