I saw a report that they sent me and I thought it was just any news, but seeing a child sitting in front of a judge made me stop. A room of large chairs and a judge looking directly at a child who couldn't be more than 5 years old. He wore headphones bigger than his own little head. His tiny feet didn't touch the ground. Those innocent little hands resting on the table were barely visible.
The judge was asking and the child, serious, did not move, did not cry; he nodded his head without knowing what they were talking to him about.
The comments on that video had everything: mockery, political opinions. I was left thinking: and is that child an instrument for debate? He was a child; that hurt me a lot.
A child entering a room where no one bends down to their height, where they hear words like: deportation, process.
In the video's comments there were discussions, political opinions, anger, mockery, support. But the child was not a debate. It was a child. And that was what hit me the most.
Too small to understand
After seeing that video, I imagined what a small child might feel in a room where no one bends down to their height to speak to them, hearing words like "deportation."
Children do not understand borders or immigration laws; they only understand fear, absence.
Many of these children crossed borders fleeing violence, extreme poverty; others wanted to reunite with their parents. But, the moment these creatures are detained, they enter a legal system designed only for adults, not for children. The judge asks them if they have a lawyer; that incongruity of asking a child if they have a lawyer, I don't understand it.
How can a young child have a lawyer? They don't know the language, they can't read, or worse, they don't know what's at stake. Without a lawyer or legal representation, the odds of them being deported increase drastically. And deportation isn't just geographically relocating; it's returning to the place they fled from, to danger and trauma. That's not seen in the video.
How terrible for a child to find themselves in a detention center. The fear of not being reunited with their parents is not seen.
Children need stability, emotional security; they cannot live under constant threats. They need emotional security. When a child lives under constant threat of expulsion and uncertainty, their mind and body enter a state of permanent alert. That stress leaves marks: fear, problems trusting adults.
And the most terrible thing is that, sometimes, they feel guilty, as if they were being punished. It's not a number; it's a life.
In the newspapers it appears in large letters: “9 out of 10 are deported and have no lawyers”. But behind each number there is a terrible story: children who left their toys, children who do not understand why they are called by a number instead of by their name.
A small child who learns too soon what the word “deportation” means. It is easy to turn him into a statistic, but looking him in the eyes is more difficult.
What is truly terrible is not that trial, but that their childhood is interrupted. Justice, which should protect them, becomes a cold place. Sitting them in front of a judge when they should be learning to read, asking why the sky is blue or why the sea is immense. Maximum vulnerability in the face of a system designed only for adults.
Sometimes newspapers or videos show us things that last barely a few seconds, but there are images that should not disappear with the next screen swipe.
Because they are not just videos, but realities and children.
The United States defines itself as the land of freedom, a country built by immigrants and considered a system that guarantees equality before the law. But equality does not mean treating those who are unequal in power, capacity, and age the same. A child is not equal to an adult before a court; I think that is clear.
When the system does not adapt its mechanisms to protect children, it ceases to be neutral. It becomes unequal; an inequality that falls upon the most defenseless.
The truly terrible thing is not deporting; it is normalizing.
It is that a society sees a child sitting before a judge and turns him into part of the political debate.
It is that the discussion is centered on borders and statistics while childhood is reduced to a file. It is that the law is applied without humanity.
A country can have strong institutions. It can have a powerful economy. It can have a long legal tradition.
But the moral measure of any system is not observed in how it treats the strong, but in how it treats the most vulnerable.
And when that five-year-old child needs headphones to understand the language in which they are deciding his future, something is going wrong.
Can a system that allows a child to defend himself alone against the State be called fair? I cannot understand it.
Legality does not always equate to justice or to being fair. The video lasted less than a minute, but the reality I saw weighs much more.
He is a child. And let's not forget that human rights are not a national privilege; they are a universal obligation, we should brand that in.
A child should not carry the weight of our borders, our laws, or our ideologies. A child should carry backpacks full of books and hugs, not fear.
Please, don't do it, let's not normalize what hurts. Let vulnerability not be a spectacle, let's not allow custom to rob us of compassion, let's look with empathy. That laws without compassion become rigid. That progress without sensitivity or affection becomes empty.
We are losing our humanity…but we can also regain it. I believe the moral measure of society is not measured by how we treat the strong, but by how we embrace the most fragile.
If children tremble, humanity must tremble with them. And as Daniel Goleman tells us,
“True compassion means not only feeling another's pain but also committing to alleviate it.”