Lemon Anderson: They led us from the land of hunger, famine, empty crops, and tired tradition. Led us through desperate, dry deserts and wailing high tides to the ports of promise. All for our dreams, our smiles, our liberation wanting to be, to do, to love. Our mothers, with all their talk of pride, "You must never forget, never forget, never forget your home!" Yet, you can see them, these women dancing in their spice-painted aprons, swaying in the kitchen, singing American songs, freedom songs, proud of their new land, the hopes they carry in us, to live out their dreams.
Yet us, their dreamers, their children, stand frightened in the valley of the undocumented, lose sleep for these women. Fear that one day, our mothers will be watching us from the other side of those songs. Still singing, but watching us from the borders, behind barbed wire, still smiling, their tears cutting through the fence. Not being able to hand us the veil at our weddings. Frightened code that they will be stripped from us over Sunday dinner, pulled from their churches in the middle of high praise over "Glory Hallelujah", asked for their I.D., picked up, pulled from a stop light for being a designated driver.
Who does not want to be, to do, to love. In the valley of the undocumented, we fear the mornings before the sun rises when our moms go to work on rich homes. Hold our mothers long, long time at the door, scared that this will be the day that they will be ripped from us, unjustly because they were taking a break from serving the rich, to make a white lily prom corsage for our sister. And the man with the lone star pulls her, pushes her, cradles her ungently, like the other mothers into bullet-proof trucks stamped, pedigreed, and processed. We want to live our dreams through our mothers. To have them by our side, to be what they wanted us to be, to do what they wanted us so much for us to do, to have them sit, right here, with us! Hold us, while we tackle the impossible dream.There may be small errors in this transcript.