Photography by Emily Kennedy
Lines drawn on maps; separating lovers, separating friends. Uniforms and guns deciding who gets to come in, who gets searched, and who gets turned away.
A person of colour is asked, “can you please pull over?” A known-anarchist, “what are your political affiliations?” A person with precarious status, locked away immediately.
Imaginary lines, burned into our brains. Constantly policing our thoughts and actions. Where we can go, who we can know. The lines are illegal, not the people.
This land was stolen long ago. We have no right to put up walls and checkpoints, no right to draw these imaginary lines on maps. No right to question, hurt and imprison those crossing them.
This land was born free, and it will be free again. These illegal borders that make my heart heavy will fall.