THE BLOG

The Daughter Of An Immigrant

01/02/2017 13:49 GMT | Updated 01/02/2017 13:49 GMT

Tonight as I write my dad is lying in a hospital bed in Liverpool being treated for pneumonia. The nursing team, the doctors and the consultant, who came to his bedside on a Saturday, are from cities that crisscross the globe.

As many others before him, my dad came to this country from Cyprus when he was 15-years-old, with just the clothes he stood up in. It was 1958 and he was fleeing a volatile situation on the Island and landed in London not really having a next step planned. Since then he's made his way, been married three times, led a full life and watched his island from his not so new home.

This all means that my sister, my brother and I are the children of an immigrant, so I really shouldn't have been that surprised when the vitriolic Trump tweets that flooded my timeline this weekend, cut like a knife.

To be honest, we all expected this to be bad right? I mean, no one had any hopes left by the end of inauguration day that this was going to end well, but really... this quick... this ferocious???

As I watched the news on Sunday, the streams of immigrants children waiting and watching in fear, their destiny changed and futures rewritten with the stroke of a pen miles away, I couldn't help but realise that this felt personal.

No, my immigrant father wasn't from one of the seven countries on Trump's hit list, but what if the list grows? What if everything that my dad had worked for was superseded by the place of his birth? What about the other immigrant's children who've had their parent's future thrown in confusion?

Here at home, the UK's decision to leave the EU has already left many of us feeling cold with no obvious path forward, but now events in America seem to stretch across the pond and well, make all of this makes me feel uneasy and unsettled. It feels personal, but what can we do except protest?

As the numbers rise on the petition to stop Trump's state visit to the UK part of me wants him to come here to see the marches and to hear the protests and to feel our wrath against his reckless missives. I'm sure he sees the same tweets as I do with banners held aloft above the heads of children, but I'm sure seeing those pictures doesn't have the same effect on him as he defends his actions from the Oval Office.