How George Bush’s Legacy Lives On Through Immigration and Customs Enforcement
They look at George Bush now
like history has been sanded down—
a grandfather with brushes,
a man who paints cats
as if oil can cover blood.
But I remember his America.
I remember ICE before people pretended
it was invented yesterday.
I remember families folding themselves
under minivans
because someone screamed La Migra
and fear moved faster than thought.
That was policy.
That was design.
That was not an accident of the times.
Before my quinceañera,
people hid.
Before college,
people cried.
Before every election,
people prepared to disappear.
Immigration and Customs Enforcement
was never about safety.
It was about spectacle.
About showing children
what happens when your parents are undocumented.
About making fear contagious
so no one reaches for help.
Now they ask questions
like innocence is possible in a system like this.
Why didn’t the father stay?
Why didn’t the school intervene?
Why didn’t someone grab the child?
Because terror is the point.
Because trauma is the lesson.
Because ICE does not need to deport everyone—
it only needs to be seen.
Paintings don’t erase policy.
And memory is not optional
for those who lived through it.
