The family separation activist writes a personal essay detailing her experiences climbing the Statue of Liberty and the lifelong journey leading up to it
words Patricia Okoumou
illustrations Aaliyah Palton
When I first heard about Donald John Trump, I knew nothing about the guy. I had hardly heard of The Apprentice and later judging from his performance on the show I wasn’t impressed. It wasn’t a television show I would want to watch.
When Donald Trump announced his candidacy by calling Mexicans rapists and assuming that immigrants from that part of the world brought with them problems, including drugs, I was certain he wouldn’t have my vote.
On November 8, 2016, the day Donald Trump won the U.S. presidential election, I had a ticket a friend had given me for my upcoming birthday to watch The Lion King. By the time I reached the Staten Island Ferry Terminal after the show was finished, something heavy weighed on my heart as I watched the television screens all around me showing this traitor trending ahead of United States Secretary of State Hillary Diane Rodham Clinton.
I had been working as a personal trainer in Battery Park City. The next day following Trumps’ election win, I was out on a Citi Bike looking for Trump Towers after work to protest his fake victory. Going to the Fifth Avenue Trump Tower and displaying a sign that read “Not My President” became such a daily routine that Cenk Uygur, host of The Young Turks interviewed me. The sentiment against Trump was pretty much mutual within the public. People would stop to shake my hand, give me a hug or call me a true patriot and thank me for my “service”. I took this endeavour very seriously. It became a part-time job, only I wasn’t getting paid.
FAMILY SEPARATION
Soon after his inauguration, Donald Trump signed an executive order banning travellers from Muslim countries from entering the United States of America. Even a five-year-old understood that the Muslim or Traveler ban was discriminatory. People shouldn’t be treated differently based on their religious beliefs.
“The countries Trump decried as ‘shithole’, such as those in Africa as I understand it, wouldn’t wage a war on toddlers.”
The countries Trump decried as “shithole”, such as those in Africa as I understand it, wouldn’t wage a war on toddlers. I started to have nightmares when I first learned about the cruelty of his zero-tolerance approach on immigration. It was unusual and an unprecedented attitude towards children.
Family separation became an important issue for me, particularly because of my parents’ divorce and the breakup of my family. Separating families at the southern border is a manmade humanitarian crisis manufactured by our government. The government of the United States of America engaged in cruelty towards immigrants seeking asylum in our country knowing very well that this country was founded on immigration. Taking away tender-aged children from nursing mothers is a war against toddlers. The indefinite incarceration of migrant children in concentration camps is cruel and unusual punishment.
The Trump Administration had pushed me over the edge. I was willing to risk everything to save the thousands of children being ripped from their parents or loved ones. My frame of reference indicated that no government or persons in my native country would engage in such an act of violence towards babies.
THE CLIMB
My experience protesting with other groups taught me that stories that were highly important to the public barely received enough coverage, even when many of us were out there on the streets demonstrating. I really didn’t think much about the impact of my actions. I was more concerned about the migrant children held in cages.
With the climb, I was hoping to achieve total liberation and freedom from incarceration for migrant children. I had told the officer on the statue of my demands. It was simple: ask Donald Trump to let the children go. Until then, I was not planning to come down on my own. I was taken down by force and placed in a cage just as they had done with The Children.
I’ve never climbed anything in protest, not even as a child. Yet climbing the Statue of Liberty was a free climb. I didn’t bring any equipment. I didn’t judge it necessary since I was following God’s calling. I climbed by faith and the grace of God alone.
THE AFTERMATH
After the NYPD apprehended me on the base of the statue, I was handed over to the United States Park Police. I stayed overnight at The Metropolitan Correctional Center. The next day, I was exposed to a mob of reporters and photographers. I had to give a press conference due to so much curiosity surrounding me.
Overnight, I had become a celebrity. This affected me financially because when one thinks of a celebrity, we usually associate such status with a better life. Economically, my life hasn’t changed a bit; yet, there is a high expectation for me to continue my activism, give presentations or make appearances.
I do not mind the attention; if it is also geared towards the safety and wellbeing of the migrant children, I had risked my life for. I cannot continue advocating for the voiceless when the voice that landed them freedom isn’t even heard. Because people are tone-deaf, it completely changes the definition of heroism.
Today, I am 19 weeks pregnant. I have personal responsibilities to myself and my unborn son. I wish the world was a better place for children. People have forgotten the hormonal instinct to save, protect, and love children. We need to close this gap and make a world of a difference.
Essay originally featured in POSTSCRIPT Issue 3.