THE DIASPORA TIMES EDITORIAL

A message of hope and comfort for those being returned to their homeland, reminding them that going home is not punishment but a renewal of identity and belonging.

For many immigrants living in the United States, the word deportation carries deep emotional pain. It evokes fear, humiliation, and a sense of being discarded after years of hard work and contribution to a country they once believed had become their second home. Yet, behind the statistics and policy language are real human beings, mothers, fathers, professionals, and dreamers who once paid taxes, built businesses, raised children, and gave their best years to the American dream.

It is time to change how we view and treat those who are being sent back to their countries of origin. They are not criminals or rejects of society; they are fellow human beings who once called America home, and whose only “crime” in many cases is overstaying a visa or falling victim to a complex immigration system that few fully understand. The word deportation itself should be replaced with something more humane, such as returning home, because that is what it truly is. People are not being thrown into exile; they are being escorted back to the lands of their birth, where they once belonged, where they were once loved.

Kenya, like many countries, remains a beautiful home filled with hope, opportunity, and warmth. Those being sent back should not be made to feel ashamed. Many of them came to the U.S. legally, through airports and immigration checks, with valid dreams of education, work, or safety. Those being deported may have lost their green card or failed to renew it after it expired. No one swam across oceans or sneaked through borders; they were received with dignity and hope. Circumstances change, life becomes complicated, and sometimes legal paperwork expires, or renewal systems fail. That should not turn decent, hardworking men and women into prisoners of bureaucracy or targets of fear campaigns.

Under the Trump administration, the enforcement agency known as ICE, Immigration and Customs Enforcement, turned into a symbol of fear among immigrants. Its officers conduct impromptu arrests in shopping malls, schools, churches, and even hospitals. The cruelty of being handcuffed in front of one’s children or community is something no human should endure. Worse still, many detainees languish in detention centers for months, sometimes years, without proper legal representation or humane care. These people were once celebrated taxpayers, part of America’s workforce, nurses, truck drivers, cleaners, caregivers, engineers, people who contributed to the same society that now rejects them.

Yet, the return home should not be seen as a curse. It can be a new beginning, a return to the roots that shaped one’s character and values. Kenya welcomes her sons and daughters with open arms. Those returning should know that home has not forgotten them. They can rebuild, invest, and share the skills and experience they gained abroad. The government and diaspora organizations should create programs that support reintegration, financial assistance, counseling, and business start-up guidance. America, too, has a moral obligation to assist in this transition. A portion of the taxes these individuals paid should be allocated to resettlement packages to help them start afresh in their home countries.

Language matters. The word deportee must be retired. It carries the weight of shame and rejection. We must speak of returnees or repatriated citizens, individuals coming back to their own soil with dignity. The media must stop using sensational images of tears and handcuffs. Instead, we should highlight resilience, hope, and renewal, the story of people who gave their best to a foreign land and are now reclaiming their identities.

To those facing deportation: do not lose heart. You are not being thrown away; you are being guided back to your origin, to family, to familiar languages, to food, to laughter under the African sun. You were valuable in America, and you remain valuable in Kenya. Your story is not ending; it is simply turning a page. The world may call it deportation, but you can call it homecoming.

It is time for both the U.S. and Kenya to humanize this process. Deportation should no longer mean disgrace. It should mean dignity, a respectful return for those who once carried America’s burdens and dreams. Let every person being sent home remember this: you are not forgotten, you are not a failure, and you are not alone. You are simply going home, and there is no shame in that.

A message of hope and comfort for those being returned to their homeland, reminding them that going home is not punishment but a renewal of identity and belonging.

Disclaimer:
We are the voice of the Diaspora, and we deeply empathize with our fellow Kenyans who are being traumatized through deportation. It pains us to witness hardworking men and women, once taxpayers and contributors to the American economy, being treated without dignity. Our message is one of compassion, solidarity, and hope. Every Kenyan abroad deserves respect, humane treatment, and the assurance that returning home should never feel like a punishment but a dignified homecoming.