The Lost Cries of the Wall: Haunted by Our Own Indifference

words by Vyshnavi Tatta, art by Livs Sun

In the shadows of towering border walls, lives are being shattered daily. Victerma de la Sancha Cerros, age 33; Yorlei Rubi, age 10; and Jonathan Agustín Briones de la Sancha, age 8. These names might sound like strangers to you, but to each other, they were family. To the United States government, they were "illegal aliens." To the rest of us, they became just another heart-wrenching headline, one among the hundreds we see on the news daily: "Breaking News: A mother and two children drown to death along the US-Mexico border".

Their story is devastatingly common. From San Diego's ocean border with Tijuana to the unforgiving waters of the Rio Grande, from blistering deserts to treacherous canyons, migrants are dying in pursuit of a better life. The International Organization for Migration (IOM) has documented 686 deaths and disappearances of migrants on the US-Mexico border in 2022, making it the deadliest land route for migrants worldwide on record.

Yet, as these numbers grow, so does our collective numbness. The American people have become desensitized to the tragedy, each new report of deaths at the border becoming less shocking, less heartbreaking. We scroll past headlines, barely registering the loss of human life. This numbness, this indifference, is eerily reminiscent of the very border guards we criticize.

How different are we, in our comfortable homes scrolling past these stories, from the border guards who witness such tragedies firsthand?

Consider the story of a 24-year-old Guatemalan woman who fell from a 30-foot border wall in Otay Mesa in March 2023. She clung to the wall for over 15 minutes, her cries for help met with little more than shouts from Border Patrol agents telling her not to climb. The local fire department, which could have potentially saved her, was not given proper access information. The woman crashed onto the concrete below, and her death, like so many others, was preventable.

This incident raises a chilling question: How different are we, in our comfortable homes scrolling past these stories, from the border guards who witness such tragedies firsthand? Both groups have become desensitized to the human cost of border policies. We've allowed ourselves to view these deaths as statistics rather than individual tragedies, each representing a life full of hopes, dreams, and loved ones left behind.

Every day brings in new screams of anguish from those witnessing loved ones' innocent dreams being shattered on the pavements and drowning in treacherous waters. This grim cycle echoes the cruelties of the past. The border wall, much like the Berlin Wall of the past, has become a symbol of division, not just physically but in our collective consciousness. It separates "us" from "them," making it easier to ignore the human cost of our policies. But unlike the Berlin Wall, which fell over 30 years ago, our wall continues to claim lives daily.

What exactly are we “protecting”? Our country or our indifference?

The US Customs and Border Patrol (CBP) proudly touts the effectiveness of their measures, focusing on the number of "illegal aliens" apprehended. But at what cost? When did we start measuring success by arrests rather than lives saved? What exactly are we “protecting”? Our country or our indifference?

We are haunted—or at least, we should be—by our complicity, our desensitization, our apathy. Each life lost at the border is a failure of our humanity, a stark reminder of the consequences of our indifference. The ghosts of those who have perished in pursuit of a better life should weigh heavily on our national conscience.

How many more names do we need to hear before we truly listen? How many more families need to be torn apart before we feel the urgency to act? The border wall has become a massive gravestone, marking the death not just of individuals, but of our collective empathy.

We must learn from the anguished voices that echo across the border wall.

We cannot continue to perpetuate this cycle of human casualties and collective amnesia. When desperate souls seeking opportunity are met with barbed wire and dehumanization, lives will be squandered, and families ripped apart in vain pursuit of an American Dream transformed into a nightmare. These borders reveal the worst in us and bring shame to our nation that embraces them.

Change will not come from embracing the same harsh actions we once condemned others for perpetuating. Instead, we must learn from the anguished voices that echo across the border wall and think about more moral, humane ways to manage the realities of immigration.

It's crucial that we actively remember these deaths, that we fight against our own desensitization. We must put faces and stories to the statistics, to remind ourselves and others of the human cost of our current policies. We need to demand better preparedness and training for border guards, equipping them to save lives rather than simply enforce laws.

Most importantly, we must cultivate basic human decency toward those simply dreaming of the same dignities we already enjoy. Remember Victerma, Yorlei, and Jonathan. Remember the young Guatemalan woman. Remember the countless others who lost their lives in pursuit of a better opportunity.

We are all haunted by these tragedies. The question is: when will we finally listen to the ghosts?

America is a nation of immigrants. We are a country built for immigrants, by immigrants, and with immigrants. Building a border wall is like dividing our nation's identity, and the cost of this division is measured in human lives. While border security is a complex issue with no easy solutions, we must strive for a more compassionate approach that upholds human rights and values human life above all else.

The lost cries at the wall should serve as a haunting reminder of the tragic consequences of dehumanization and indifference. By actively fighting against our own desensitization, by remembering and honoring those who have perished, and by embracing our shared humanity, we can work towards a more just and humane immigration system that reflects the ideals upon which this nation was founded.

We are all haunted by these tragedies. The question is: when will we finally listen to the ghosts?