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Poster Child
This March 7 photo of 2-year-old Tomasa Mendez, crying in her mother's arms because her father was suspected of being in the U.S. illegally, has become iconic in the immigration debate.
(By Peter Pereira -- New Bedford Standard-times)
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"It was Katrina-like in the basement," crowded with desperate families whose lives had just been upended, says George Goehl, field organizer with the Washington-based Center for Community Change. "That image showed up. It was so clear that it encapsulated what the whole story was about."
The center and other groups made thousands of posters and fliers featuring Tomasa's tearful visage. Electronic versions were beamed from coast to coast. The little girl in the picture looked out beseechingly from placards carried by marchers at immigrant-rights rallies from Denver to New York to Washington. Slogans appeared with the image: "Where's My Mom? Where's My Dad?"
You could argue that a weakness of the photo is that it lacks context. The girl in the picture needs a caption or a squad of immigrant-rights marchers to give her tears meaning. If you waved her picture at a rally against hunger or child abuse, it would not appear out of place.
In that sense, Tomasa's is the universal face of stricken childhood.
The girl and her picture: On the van ride to the Rayburn House Office Building, another photo comes out of an envelope, showing Tomasa in white sitting on a man's knee. They have the same big eyes. "Papi!" squeals Tomasa.
A row of reporters and several television and newspaper cameras join the standing-room-only crowd for a "children's hearing" on the raids before a panel of family advocates. When Tomasa and her dimples arrive, she pauses in the hall for a photographer to click off a dozen shots. With each click, Tomasa subtly changes her pose and expression, with a precocious model's sense, all smiles and curiosity, carrying a pink Dora the Explorer backpack.
Some Capitol Police officers happen by. They are friendly and joking, but Tomasa bursts into tears. On her face is that look again. Dominga scoops her up. The girl is remembering "la policía" from the morning of the raid, her mother says.
Half a dozen children attend the event. For them it is long and boring. Pink fliers are lying around with Tomasa's face on them. Tomasa shows no sign that she recognizes the girl in the picture. At least not this photocopied, grainy, black-on-pink version.
The children of the raids turn over the fliers and use the blank sides to color and scribble.
