Born in the USA.

On July 4, a few Trumpsters in their cars drove around on the roads around Homestead prison for migrant children, blaring a song that sounds as if it were celebrating birth right citizenship.

Never mind that it is not about that. That it is ironic, that it describes the plight of native born Americans who live in the neglect and abandonment of extreme inequality.

Few take the time to hear the lyrics beyond the refrain, which this small crew of counter protesters used to remind themselves of their privilege, contrasted with the imprisoned new arrivals inside the green-tarped fences of one of America’s disgraceful installations, the young refugee boys and girls inside.

Who hear the music, and likewise do not understand the words, and enjoy Bruce’s anthemic refrain and pounding beat.

And a local TV station decides to use the apparent pleasure the children take from hearing the music and decide to suggest in their story of the day that the children appeared to be celebrating Independence Day.

Never mind that there are hundreds of pages of reporting on the misery of the children held inside that those TV reporters have either not read or have forgotten. And that the caravan of “patriots” would likely not care about if they knew about.

But after the day darkened, remaining were the witnesses who remember, and the children who will never be able to forget.