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Trump says undocumented immigrants are dangerous. This congressman has a great response.

Rep. Jared Polis is shining a light on Trump's attack on immigrants.

Trump says undocumented immigrants are dangerous. This congressman has a great response.

When President Donald Trump announced a plan to publicize crimes committed by undocumented immigrants, members of the audience gasped in surprise and disappointment.

The program is called the Victims of Immigration Crime Engagement office (VOICE), and its goal, as outlined by Trump during his February address to a joint session of Congress, is to study "the effects of the victimization by criminal aliens present in the United States" and publicize crimes committed by undocumented immigrants.

Photo by Jim Lo Scalzo/Getty Images.


Critics worry — and rightfully so — that the program will create a false impression that immigrants are prone to violent crime, a popular misconception that has been consistently debunked. A recent study found that immigrants — undocumented or not — commit crimes at a lower rate than natural-born citizens. They also contribute a lot to the U.S. economy.

In response, Rep. Jared Polis (D-Colorado) launched a similar database with the idea to counter Trump's narrative by telling positive stories about immigrants.

While something needs to be done about our current immigration system, trying to sway public fear by smearing undocumented immigrants as violent (false), job-stealing (false) freeloaders (false, false, false) is a disingenuous way of going about it.

Facts matter, and that's what Polis hopes to demonstrate with his new Saved by American Immigrants National Taskforce (SAINT). In a press release, Polis explained that the purpose of SAINT is "to collect stories of immigrants — both documented and undocumented — who have positively contributed to U.S. society through heroic or lifesaving acts."

Polis speaks during a 2011 press conference. Photo by Kris Connor/Getty Images.

In announcing the task force to the House of Representatives, Polis highlighted three examples of stories SAINT will focus on.

There's the story of Antonio Diaz Chacon, an undocumented immigrant who saved a 6-year-old girl from a child abductor in 2011. In 2007, Jesus Manuel Cordova was crossing the Mexico/U.S. border when he found and saved a 9-year-old boy lost alone in the desert. Also in 2007, Dr. Alfredo Quinones-Hinojosa, an undocumented immigrant living in Baltimore, became a world-renowned brain surgeon.

The creation of Polis' task force simply shines a light on Trump's unfair characterization of immigrants as a whole, providing more than one narrative of immigrants' contributions to America. Polis' goal, as he's made clear over the past several years, is to find a comprehensive immigration reform program that works for all Americans, regardless of where they were born.

You can watch Polis announce SAINT in the video below and read more about the program on his website.

Images courtesy of John Scully, Walden University, Ingrid Scully
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Since March of 2020, over 29 million Americans have been diagnosed with COVID-19, according to the CDC. Over 540,000 have died in the United States as this unprecedented pandemic has swept the globe. And yet, by the end of 2020, it looked like science was winning: vaccines had been developed.

In celebration of the power of science we spoke to three people: an individual, a medical provider, and a vaccine scientist about how vaccines have impacted them throughout their lives. Here are their answers:

John Scully, 79, resident of Florida

Photo courtesy of John Scully

When John Scully was born, America was in the midst of an epidemic: tens of thousands of children in the United States were falling ill with paralytic poliomyelitis — otherwise known as polio, a disease that attacks the central nervous system and often leaves its victims partially or fully paralyzed.

"As kids, we were all afraid of getting polio," he says, "because if you got polio, you could end up in the dreaded iron lung and we were all terrified of those." Iron lungs were respirators that enclosed most of a person's body; people with severe cases often would end up in these respirators as they fought for their lives.

John remembers going to see matinee showings of cowboy movies on Saturdays and, before the movie, shorts would run. "Usually they showed the news," he says, "but I just remember seeing this one clip warning us about polio and it just showed all these kids in iron lungs." If kids survived the iron lung, they'd often come back to school on crutches, in leg braces, or in wheelchairs.

"We all tried to be really careful in the summer — or, as we called it back then, 'polio season,''" John says. This was because every year around Memorial Day, major outbreaks would begin to emerge and they'd spike sometime around August. People weren't really sure how the disease spread at the time, but many believed it traveled through the water. There was no cure — and every child was susceptible to getting sick with it.

"We couldn't swim in hot weather," he remembers, "and the municipal outdoor pool would close down in August."

Then, in 1954 clinical trials began for Dr. Jonas Salk's vaccine against polio and within a year, his vaccine was announced safe. "I got that vaccine at school," John says. Within two years, U.S. polio cases had dropped 85-95 percent — even before a second vaccine was developed by Dr. Albert Sabin in the 1960s. "I remember how much better things got after the vaccines came out. They changed everything," John says.

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The difference between a politician and a public servant may be a matter of semantics, but when it comes to getting legislation passed that actually helps people, the contrast is stark.

Texas Representative James Talarico is on a mission to get his constituents the life-saving medicine they need. The 31-year-old lawmaker has just introduced legislation that would cap the price of insulin—a medicine people with type 1 diabetes need to live, which has become unaffordable for many—at $50 a month.

The mission is personal for Talarico, as he nearly died three years ago when he was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.

He shared his story on Twitter:

"In May 2018, I was a healthy 28-year-old running for the Texas House. I decided to walk the entire length of my district and hold town halls along the way. I hike Big Bend every year, so I wasn't concerned about a 25 mile walk...

But halfway through the walk, I began feeling nauseous and fatigued. Before the town hall in Hutto, I vomited in the bathroom."

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Images courtesy of John Scully, Walden University, Ingrid Scully
True

Since March of 2020, over 29 million Americans have been diagnosed with COVID-19, according to the CDC. Over 540,000 have died in the United States as this unprecedented pandemic has swept the globe. And yet, by the end of 2020, it looked like science was winning: vaccines had been developed.

In celebration of the power of science we spoke to three people: an individual, a medical provider, and a vaccine scientist about how vaccines have impacted them throughout their lives. Here are their answers:

John Scully, 79, resident of Florida

Photo courtesy of John Scully

When John Scully was born, America was in the midst of an epidemic: tens of thousands of children in the United States were falling ill with paralytic poliomyelitis — otherwise known as polio, a disease that attacks the central nervous system and often leaves its victims partially or fully paralyzed.

"As kids, we were all afraid of getting polio," he says, "because if you got polio, you could end up in the dreaded iron lung and we were all terrified of those." Iron lungs were respirators that enclosed most of a person's body; people with severe cases often would end up in these respirators as they fought for their lives.

John remembers going to see matinee showings of cowboy movies on Saturdays and, before the movie, shorts would run. "Usually they showed the news," he says, "but I just remember seeing this one clip warning us about polio and it just showed all these kids in iron lungs." If kids survived the iron lung, they'd often come back to school on crutches, in leg braces, or in wheelchairs.

"We all tried to be really careful in the summer — or, as we called it back then, 'polio season,''" John says. This was because every year around Memorial Day, major outbreaks would begin to emerge and they'd spike sometime around August. People weren't really sure how the disease spread at the time, but many believed it traveled through the water. There was no cure — and every child was susceptible to getting sick with it.

"We couldn't swim in hot weather," he remembers, "and the municipal outdoor pool would close down in August."

Then, in 1954 clinical trials began for Dr. Jonas Salk's vaccine against polio and within a year, his vaccine was announced safe. "I got that vaccine at school," John says. Within two years, U.S. polio cases had dropped 85-95 percent — even before a second vaccine was developed by Dr. Albert Sabin in the 1960s. "I remember how much better things got after the vaccines came out. They changed everything," John says.

Keep Reading Show less