The Circle of Life, 2026
In the country I still on occasion refer to as “home,” even though my entire life is now thousands of miles away and I have no immediate desire to return, we have something that could be called a “Toxic Stew.” It is the unhealthy combination of power, money, drugs, and corruption, perpetually seasoned by political malfeasance and police ineffectiveness.
It is impossible to create a lifestyle diet which does not include a helping of TS. You go about your business as quietly and unobtrusively as possible, but inevitably you get a visit from a TS Representative.
It was several years ago, but the memory is vivid – the day I received such a visit. The TSR was only a kid really, becoming a “man” because of the gun he brandished. He spoke crudely in a loud voice, perhaps to hide his own fear of being punished for not doing his job properly, i.e., according to the dictates of his boss.
“You must get the f… out of your house, now. TS wants it. If you do not leave by tomorrow night, a TSR will be here to take your daughter away.”
As TSR slammed the door, I remember saying to my wife, “it’s time. We cannot live like this, in perpetual fear. We must go north. I have enough money to bribe the right official so that we can get tourist visas. If that is not possible, we will walk and apply for asylum.”
Ten years later, living in Roxbury, New Jersey …………
I am now scared to go to the grocery store or to our favorite restaurant. What has happened? I have done jobs that nobody born here wants to do: roofing, meatpacking, long hours in the field picking fruits and vegetables. I am labeled a criminal for not ever having completed the procedure to become a resident. I tried many years ago, but there were not enough immigration judges to handle the cases.
Here it is the ICE agent who is the TSR, even if the TS is not exactly that of my experience (“history doesn’t repeat, but it rhymes”). I struggle to understand why I am not wanted here. Is it my skin color? That has not been an issue when I have been working, typically for white employers. I have paid my bills. I applied for and received a TIN and paid my taxes.
And now, 1879 Route 46 West is the building where I struggle to sleep, to eat properly, to contact my lawyer. It is a warehouse, currently empty of any Amazon containers.
I live in a Detention Center with a holding capacity of 1500 people of varying ages. My life has looped from being in contact with one TSR to being apprehended by another.
No more the myth of American exceptionalism, of a welcoming attitude toward those who are suffering in the land of their birth.
The Statue of Liberty now wears a blindfold, a white one.
(The essay is fictional; note that the state of New Jersey and the township of Roxbury have sued to prevent 1879 Route 46 West from becoming a detention center.)