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National Justice for Our Neighbors
May 2016 
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To Save My Daughters 
 
A Mother's Day Story 
 
 
It was an important day for Abebi’s family. Her parents had killed a ram and had invited everyone for the feast. The guest of honor was a man named Babatunde, much respected and revered in their traditional Muslim community in Ibadan, Nigeria.
  
But first, the women of this community led 11-year-old Abebi, barely on the cusp of puberty, into a room and laid her down. Strong fingers pried her legs open and they held her firmly, the heels of their hands pressing into her tiny, bony shoulders.  
 
There Babatunde took a razor and, without anesthesia, cut Abebi’s genital area to make her a “complete woman.”
 
It was the end of Abebi’s childhood.
 
 
    Read on here.
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 Honoring the Courage of Moms  
 
There is no greater love than the love of a mother for her child.
 
As demonstrated by Abebi in the story above, we know that there is no sacrifice too great, no journey too perilous, no foe too formidable for a mother who fights to protect and defend her children.
 
 
 
This Mother’s Day, please give so immigrant mothers can live with their children—safe, secure, and together.  
 
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Borderlands, Part Three 
With the U.S. Border Patrol in McAllen, Texas   
 
The wall is behind us, Mexico lies a bare two miles ahead. Although we are technically still in the United States, we are standing in no-man’s land: a flat, desolate landscape of stony soil, scrub brush, and needle-sharp grass. 
 
There aren’t a lot of places to hide.   
 
Officer Rodriguez, from the U.S. Border Patrol, helpfully points out the surveillance tower in the distance.  Later, we’ll notice a solitary drone in the distance and a tethered surveillance blimp known as an aerostat. It can watch for movement from 10,000 feet up.
 
“We’ve also got night-vision goggles and cameras with nighttime capabilities,” Officer Rodriguez says. “We’re using military equipment brought back from Iraq.”
 
It’s Day One of our trip to the border, and it’s somehow fitting that our first stop should be here, on this slender, lonely strip of wasteland that separates McAllen, Texas and Reynosa, Mexico.
 
 
 
 This isn’t where the migrant journey begins, but it is so often where it ends.
 
     Read on here.
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