OFFICIALS LEGISLATION INTEREST GROUPS PUBLIC STATEMENTS COMMITTEES VETOES

Children Headed to Michigan

Floor Speech

Date: June 21, 2018
Location: Washington, DC
Issues: Immigration

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Ms. KAPTUR. Mr. Speaker, yesterday's Detroit Free Press reported that two babies were taken by the Department of Homeland Security from their parents at the U.S.-Mexico border and flown in the dead of night last night to Grand Rapids, Michigan--one child is 8 months old, and another 11 months old--hundreds and hundreds of miles from home.

Fifty more immigrant children have landed in foster care by spontaneous combustion in western Michigan. A staffer at Bethany Christian Services, which is assisting these displaced children said: ``Not only are they being separated from their family, they are being transported to a place that they don't know in the middle of the night.''

Mr. Speaker, taking children from parents presents a deep moral crisis for our Nation. The abduction of children from their parents is a crime against humanity. The Trump administration's kidnapping of children must end.

Mr. Speaker, I include in the Record this important article from the Detroit Free Press entitled ``Torn from Immigrant Parents, 8-Month-Old Baby Lands in Michigan.''

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Ms. KAPTUR. Mr. Speaker, I remind my colleagues of the words at the base of the Statue of Liberty by Emma Lazarus: Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuge of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp besides the golden door.

That is the America that I know. That is the America of liberty for all. The New Colossus (By Emma Lazarus) Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. ``Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!'' cries she With silent lips. ``Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!''

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