I've taken legal guardianship of an unaccompanied minor and folded him into my family. I work in both hospitality and agriculture—industries that rely heavily on immigrant labor. My views on the border don't align with any party line, and I'm aware that people on both sides of the aisle might find something in this article to disagree with. But that doesn't make the conversation less necessary. It makes it more urgent.

America needs labor. That's not up for debate. We've raised a few generations of kids who are not equipped for hard, uncomfortable work—especially those who came of age during the pandemic. I've had over 350 employees at any one time in my businesses, and I've watched the workforce shift dramatically in just 10 years.

At the same time, I believe a border wall is not racist.

A wall, like a fence or a locked front door, doesn't carry moral weight. Strong borders make good neighbors. But let's be honest: the southern border is already secured—just not by us. It's secured by the Mexican cartels. 

Every person crossing is paying $10,000 to $13,000 to make that journey—not including the pre-planned robbery that happens to nearly every person along the way, and sometimes additional financial extortion afterward. 

We're not just turning a blind eye to this—we're funding it. 

Our labor shortage—our need for labor—is creating a massive revenue source for the cartels.

Many commentators scream, "Come legally!"—but the reality is, there are almost no viable legal pathways for Mexicans to do so.

Unlike people from other countries, Mexicans cannot easily claim asylum. Citizens of many Central and South American nations can claim asylum and stay in the United States while they await trial—a process that often takes five to 10 years. Even if their claim is denied, most never leave. Mexicans do not have this option. We are effectively prioritizing other nations over our immediate neighbor, and it makes no sense. We should be prioritizing Mexico first, and then Guatemala, El Salvador, and Honduras.

The humanitarian crisis is not what the media portrays. The real crisis is what happens before these people arrive - the women and children abused, trafficked, and disappeared in cartel territory.

It's the man who hasn't seen his mother in 20 years, or the woman who has children on both sides of the border and cannot return to see her children or grandchildren. She may never see her children here again. These are real stories. I live with them in my family and in my community. My husband didn't see his mother for 12 years prior to marrying me and becoming an American citizen.