Burden Of History - The Podcast
They erased our stories from the textbooks — but not from our memory.Welcome to Burden of History: The Podcast, hosted by Dr. Rose — a passionate historian, storyteller, and truth-teller. This podcast brings to light the untold stories of Black history, the resistance they buried, the heroes they forgot, and the uncomfortable truths they never wanted us to learn.Each episode is raw, real, and unapologetic. Through narration, wit, and wisdom, Dr. Rose uncovers the voices, victories, and pain of a people whose history has too often been silenced.Whether you're here to learn, remember, or reclaim — this podcast is for you.🎧 New episodes weekly.
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Burden Of History - The Podcast
Used, Then Refused: Mass Deportations and the American Pattern of Discarding the Poor
They crossed deserts, oceans, and borders—only to be discarded when their labor, voices, or presence became inconvenient.
In this special episode of Burden of History, we examine how the United States has repeatedly used poor, working-class immigrants, refugees, and asylum seekers—then turned its back on them. From disaster recovery to domestic labor, America’s policies often reward struggle with silence.
We’re not just talking about politics—we’re talking about people. Forgotten, deported, and erased.
This isn’t a loophole. It’s a pattern.
🎧 Listen now. Then ask yourself—who will be refused next?
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Mass Deportations and the American Pattern of Discarding the Poor Burden of History – Special Episode
Welcome back to Burden of History—and if you’re new here, welcome. This is the podcast where we bring truth to the surface… even when history tried to bury it.I’m your host, Dr. Rose—and today’s episode is different. This is not part of our ongoing series, “Before Slavery: The First Americans.” That series will continue next week.But this moment? We couldn’t ignore it.Today’s episode is called:“Used, Then Refused.”It’s about a pattern—deeply rooted in American history—of exploiting poor, Black, and brown labor… and then discarding those same people once they’re no longer seen as useful.From the slave ships of the 1700s… To the deportation trains of the 1930s… To the migrant buses of today—We’re witnessing the same cruelty, dressed in a different costume.This episode speaks to what’s happening right now—to migrant families being displaced, to government protections being quietly dismantled, and to the spiritual toll of watching history repeat itself… in real time. So if you’ve ever asked yourself, “Why does it still feel like we’re fighting the same fight?” This episode is for you.Let’s begin.
Chapter 1:The Broken PromiseIt’s one of the most quoted lines in American history. It’s on the Statue of Liberty. It’s on classroom posters. It’s on immigration brochures, as if this country has always meant it.But the truth?America invites the world in with one hand—and pushes them out with the other.Because while the words are beautiful, the history is brutal. And today, we’re living through yet another chapter of that contradiction. Where migrants from places like Haiti, Venezuela, Cuba, and El Salvador were asked to come… and now are being forced to leave. Used. Then refused.They arrived with nothing but hope. Some traveled on foot. Some crossed deserts. Some risked oceans with children in their arms.And when they got here, they were welcomed—for a while. Given work permits. Promised shelter. Bused to cities that called themselves “sanctuaries.”But when the cameras disappeared, and the funding dried up, and the public grew restless— Suddenly, they weren’t welcome anymore.They were a “problem.” An “overload.” Something to be “solved.”So now, they’re being loaded onto buses—not to come, but to leave.And this pattern? It’s not new.
Chapter 2:History RepeatsThis isn’t new.In the 1930s, over 1 million people of Mexican descent—many of them U.S. citizens—were forcibly deported during the Great Depression.Entire families were dragged from homes, schools, and jobs. No hearings. No paperwork. No warning.They were told they were “taking up too much space.” That there weren’t enough jobs to go around.So they were dumped across the border—some into towns they’d never seen, speaking languages they barely knew.All because this country wanted their labor… but not their presence.Sound familiar? In the 1980s, it was Haiti.Fleeing dictatorship, violence, and famine, thousands boarded boats bound for the U.S. But they weren’t met with compassion. They were intercepted by the Coast Guard. Detained. Deported. Or left to rot in offshore camps.Meanwhile, white Cubans were fast-tracked. Welcomed. Settled. Given the benefit of the doubt.Two Black countries. Two crises. Two different outcomes.Then came the “wet foot, dry foot” rule.If a Cuban refugee reached dry land—they could stay. If a Haitian was found at sea—they were turned away.Refugees from two failing regimes, both desperate. But one group was “acceptable,” and the other wasn’t.It wasn’t about legality. It was about comfort, race, and convenience.
Chapter 3: Quiet Cruelty, Modern BusesToday, we see buses lined up again. Migrants being sent from cities like New York and Chicago back to border towns—or deported outright.There’s less screaming. Less spectacle. But the pattern is the same.The country gets what it needs—then turns cold. No plan. No apology. Just removal.And here’s where it cuts the deepest:The very people signing these deportation orders— They go to church. They light candles. They talk about faith, family, values.But when Monday comes?“They pray to God on Sundays… but the devil comes out right at midnight on Monday.”They cloak policy in righteousness. But it’s still injustice.It’s the same logic that powered the slave ships—just dressed in business suits and budget cuts.It’s the same cruelty that cleared out whole neighborhoods during the Mexican Repatriation— Just with quieter language and cleaner paperwork.Same exploitation. Same erasure. Different headline. Before we move on, I want to tell you about something that actually inspired me to reframe how I show up—on this mic and in my daily life. I’ve partnered with Wear Playground, a luxury activewear brand created by two women with a lifelong friendship and a serious eye for design. Their pieces are bold, tailored, and made with premium sustainable fabrics—no more bland workout clothes. This is high-performance gear that transitions beautifully from the gym to your day. And because they believe in empowering women just like we do here at Burden of History, they’ve given my listeners an exclusive 20% discount. Just use my code HISTORY1865 at checkout. Visit wearplayground.com and use the code HISTORY1865. And yes, I do earn a small commission when you use my code—but it helps keep this podcast going. So thank you in advance.”
Chapter 4: The Poor Always Pay Let me say this clearly:“The poor have always paid the price for someone else’s comfort. And when they speak up, they’re labeled the problem—not the product of a broken promise.” Migrant workers fed this country during a pandemic. They cleaned hotels, built homes, paved roads.They were called “essential.” Until they weren’t.They were good enough to save the economy— But not good enough to stay. The moment they asked for something in return— A place to live. A school for their kids. A chance at legal status—They became “too much.” They became a line item. They became a threat.This country has always had room for our labor— But rarely for our lives.And when things get uncomfortable, the pattern returns:Use. Then refuse.You can’t call it compassion if it collapses the moment people ask to be treated like humans. You can’t call it justice if it only extends to those who speak perfect English, arrive with documentation, and never need help.
This isn’t about border control. It’s about control—full stop.Chapter 5: Who Gets to Belong?At the heart of this issue is a question America has never fully answered:Who gets to belong?Because if you’re white and fleeing war in Ukraine— You’re welcomed. You’re fast-tracked. You’re protected.If you’re Cuban in 1980— There’s a policy waiting for you. A program. A pathway.But if you’re Haitian, fleeing after an earthquake? You’re turned away at sea.If you’re Venezuelan, escaping political collapse? You’re left in a shelter, or put on a bus out of sight.The truth is—this isn’t about immigration status.It’s about selective compassion. It’s about who makes Americans uncomfortable. And it’s about who they think is worthy of staying.
It’s not about safety. Or resources. Or fairness.It’s about race. It’s about politics. It’s about power.And those who say, “We just can’t take care of everyone,” Only seem to say it when the people in need are Black or brown or broke. So again, we ask:Who gets to belong? -And who gets to be quietly removed once they’re no longer convenient?Chapter 6:Legacy of the UnwelcomeYou can trace this pattern like a bloodline.From the slave ships, To the internment camps, To the Mexican deportation raids, To the ICE detention centers, To the migrant buses pulling away in the night—America has always made room for labor. It has rarely made room for the laborer.People of color have been welcomed when they were useful, Then erased when they were inconvenient. Used during crises. Abandoned in recovery.This country has never had a consistent immigration policy. What it’s had is a consistent hierarchy—Where whiteness moves freely. And brownness must beg. Where wealth gets exceptions. And poverty gets detention.Even now, in cities that once called themselves sanctuaries, We see shelters closing, benefits slashed, and officials pointing fingers.Not at the system. But at the people trapped inside of it.And so the pattern rolls on—Just quieter. Just cleaner. But just as cruel.
Chapter 7:When the History HurtsThere are days when I sit down to write these stories… and I have to stop.Not because I don’t have the facts. Not because I don’t care. But because the pain? The pain is heavy.Reading what our ancestors went through—it doesn’t just educate us. It pierces us.The whippings. The chains. The babies sold. The lies told to justify their pain. The laughter of those who watched it happen like it was sport.These aren’t just stories from 200 years ago. These are memories that feel like they live inside our bones.You ever read something so vile, so violent, and your stomach turns before your brain even catches up?That’s not just empathy. That’s inherited grief. That’s ancestral memory.And that grief? That ache in your chest when you learn what they survived?It’s not weakness. It’s remembrance. And remembrance is sacred.
Chapter 8: The Ancestors Are WatchingThat’s why I imagine the ancestors often. Not because it’s poetic— But because I feel them.I picture them gathered on porches they never had, Watching buses instead of boats. Whispering truths through the wind.One might say:“Mmm. They doing it again. Just in a new outfit.”Another might rock slowly and mutter:“Ain’t nothing changed but the route. Still moving folks like pieces on a board.”And the sharp one—the one with that dry, knowing laugh— She’d lean forward and say:“They pray to God on Sunday… but the devil still clocks in at midnight.”But then… One would turn directly to you, to me, and say:“Tell it. Don’t let them forget. We walked so far, and now y’all can run—but don’t run past the truth. Carry it.”Because they didn’t get justice. But they expect us to speak.And so we speak. Even when it hurts. Even when the system rolls its eyes.Because we don’t just remember the pain— We remember the power that survived it.
Chapter 9: Trauma by Displacement - You can only be displaced so many times before you stop believing in safe places.That’s the real trauma.Not just the deportation. Not just the shelter closure. Not just the paperwork denial.But the message:You don’t matter.Not in your home country. Not in the country you risked everything to reach. Not anywhere.How many children will grow up thinking their parents were sent away because they did something wrong? How many mothers are sitting in shelters right now, wondering if they made a mistake crossing that border? How many fathers are hearing, “You’re not on the list anymore—get out”?And who carries that grief?Because when people are shuffled from place to place, from law to law, from temporary status to no status— they don’t just lose housing or healthcare.They lose their sense of being wanted.And for many Black and brown people in America, that feeling isn't new. It’s generational.
Chapter 10: The Disappearing SafetyNet - Once upon a time, we had a safety net. Programs that said: Even if life knocks you down, we won’t let you fall through the cracks.But now? That net has holes the size of neighborhoods.Rental assistance? Cut. SNAP benefits? Slashed. Free lunch for kids? Under threat.And it’s always the same excuse:“We can’t afford it.”Funny how they find billions for war, billions for corporations, billions to build bigger walls— but somehow, feeding the poor is just too expensive.It’s not about the money. It’s about the priority. And the poor have never been one.This country has mastered the art of appearing generous while gutting the very lifelines that keep people alive.They don’t kill you with a whip anymore. They kill you with policy.They don’t say you don’t belong. They just make sure you can’t afford to stay.And then they act shocked when people fall— As if the fall wasn’t the plan all along.
Chapter 11: Used, Then Refused -This is the story America keeps telling— Over and over again.It started with the enslaved. Black bodies forced into labor, stripped of freedom, family, and faith— All to build a country that would never call them citizens.Then came the sharecroppers, the maids, the janitors, the railroad workers, The nannies raising children who’d grow up to look down on them.Then came the migrants— Seasonal workers, agricultural laborers, meatpackers. Doing the jobs nobody else wanted for pay nobody else would accept.They were essential—until they weren’t. They were necessary—until they spoke up. They were praised—until they asked to be protected.America doesn’t like when its workers ask for rights. It doesn’t like when survival turns into demands.So it discards.Silently. Efficiently. Brutally.Whether it’s a border wall, a welfare cut, or a bus ride back to nowhere— The message is always the same:“You were useful. But now? You’re in the way.” Alright—quick pause, but this is worth it.Let’s talk about being supported—and I don’t just mean emotionally.I’ve partnered with a brand called Handful, and let me tell you, they’ve created the kind of sports bras and leggings that actually work. They’re made by women, for women. And they don’t just hold you up—they hold you together.Whether it’s yoga, your neighborhood walk, or just trying to keep your life together at Target—Handful delivers the comfort, compression, and durability you didn’t know you needed.And for my listeners, they’re offering 30% off—that’s the highest discount anywhere. Use the promo code HISTORY1865 at handful.com, and yes, I earn a small commission—but it helps keep the show going, so thank you.Again, that’s HISTORY1865 at handful.com.”
Chapter 12:The Price of Silence - There’s a silence in this country that’s louder than any protest.It lives in headlines that disappear in a day. In politicians who say “thoughts and prayers” but pass nothing. In neighbors who say, “That’s not my problem.”It’s a silence that isn’t passive—it’s deliberate. And dangerous. -
Because silence has always been the best friend of oppression. Every time someone chooses not to speak up, The system hears that as approval.When the poor are evicted, When migrants are rounded up, When government programs quietly vanish— And nobody says anything?That’s when policy becomes cruelty. That’s when democracy becomes theater.Silence has a cost. And that cost is always paid by the people with the least.By the mother working two jobs who can’t get childcare. By the asylum seeker forced back into danger. By the hungry child who can’t eat because a budget line was cut.People are being hurt—not because they did something wrong— But because we didn’t make enough noise when the warning signs came.And if you're sitting in comfort, untouched by these things, Just remember:The system is patient. It will eventually find its way to your door.
Chapter 13: They Gave and Got Nothing Let’s talk about the people who are being deported, dismissed, and discarded today.They didn’t sneak in to cause harm. They came because America held out its hand—then made them work for scraps.They cleaned the hotels. Harvested the food. Built the homes. Took care of children who weren’t theirs while their own children waited at home.They paid taxes without access to benefits. They lived with fear, but kept going. They showed up—every day—because they believed in the American dream.And now? Now that their bodies are tired, their hands are worn, and the job market has shifted?They’re being told to leave.No thank you. No path to citizenship. No safety net. No justice.Just an eviction notice from a country they helped build.They gave everything they had— And got nothing in return.Not even humanity.So when people say “they don’t belong here,” Ask yourself:If building, cleaning, feeding, and sacrificing isn’t enough to belong—what is? And more importantly—who decides?
Chapter 14: What We Owe ThemIt’s easy to say “we’re better than this.” But the real question is:what do we actually owe the people we’ve used, exploited, and now refuse?We owe them more than memories. More than documentaries. More than social media posts.We owe them protection—from unjust laws and biased systems. We owe them access—to healthcare, education, housing, and a fair chance to thrive. We owe them representation—so their voices are not only heard, but centered. And most of all? We owe them dignity.Dignity that isn’t revoked at a border. Dignity that doesn’t depend on your paperwork. Dignity that doesn’t evaporate when your labor is no longer needed.They should not have to beg for what this country promised. They should not be punished for believing in the dream America sold them.If a country can benefit from someone’s work, It should also be held accountable for their well-being.Because using people up and tossing them aside— That’s not democracy. That’s a machine.And people are not machines.They are mothers. Fathers. Dreamers. Builders. They are human beings.And it’s long past time we acted like it.
Chapter 15:Two Shades of Immigration ReformLet’s stop pretending immigration is a neutral system.Because in this country—immigration reform has two faces.One face is clean-cut. It smiles on Ellis Island history tours. It belongs to families from Europe who are welcomed, supported, and woven into the American fabric with pride.The other face?It’s brown. It’s Black. It’s met with suspicion. Surveillance. Shackles. Deportation.
Same dream. Different treatment.White immigrants are seen as contributors. Black and brown immigrants are seen as burdens—until their labor is needed. Then suddenly, they’re “essential.”But when that labor’s no longer convenient?“Go back.” “Not our problem.” “Not our people.”And let’s be honest: We’ve seen this before.Centuries of slavery. Decades of segregation. Generations of Black Americans told to “pull themselves up”—from chains they never asked to wear.Now we see that same logic in immigration.Different skin? Different rules.And it’s 2025. A nation that claims to be post-racial still runs on old biases with new branding.You can’t claim progress while repeating the pattern.You can’t preach equality while building systems designed to divide.And you definitely can’t say “this isn’t who we are” when it’s always been exactly who you chose to be.So yes—immigration reform exists. But ask yourself:Reform for who?
Two Shades of Immigration Reform You can’t preach equality while building systems designed to divide.And you definitely can’t say “this isn’t who we are” when it’s always been exactly who you chose to be.So yes—immigration reform exists. But ask yourself:Reform for who?And maybe—just maybe— It’s time to ask the question America keeps avoiding:When will this country stop dividing people into white, Black, and brown… and finally choose one color?The human color.
Chapter 16:The American Amnesia America has a habit of forgetting.Forgetting what it promised. Forgetting what it took. Forgetting who it stepped on to get where it is.But for the people who were stepped on— There is no forgetting.There is only surviving. And remembering. And retelling.That’s why this podcast exists. Because amnesia might protect the powerful— But memory empowers the rest of us.
Chapter 17:Not Just Politics—PeopleWhen we talk about immigration in this country, we rarely talk about people. We talk about numbers. We debate laws. We argue over borders. And we call it policy.But behind every policy is a person.A mother who crossed deserts with a baby strapped to her chest. A father who worked under the table for years, sending money back home every week. A child who hasn’t known stability since they left their first language behind.These aren’t political pawns. They’re human beings—caught in a system that treats them like liabilities instead of lives.And while politicians posture and point fingers, these people are living in fear. Going to school in fear. Going to work in fear. Wondering if today will be the day their name gets called… not for opportunity, but for removal. This isn’t just immigration. This is human suffering. And we’ve normalized it.We say things like “illegals” and “border crisis” like we’re describing a traffic jam. But these are people’s lives.
Chapter 18: The Mirror Test Every nation has a mirror.And one day, every nation will have to look into it and ask:What did we stand for? Who did we protect? Who did we push aside? The true test of a country’s character isn’t how it treats the rich, the powerful, or the well-connected. It’s how it treats the poor. The voiceless. The vulnerable. The ones with no titles and no leverage.And right now, if America looked in that mirror?It would see a country that talks about freedom— But cages children. A country that claims to be just— But makes justice unaffordable.A country that says it welcomes immigrants— As long as they’re not too brown. Not too poor. Not too desperate. The mirror doesn’t lie. It shows us the truth we pretend not to see.But mirrors can do more than expose. They can confront. And they can correct. Because if we don’t like what we see… We still have time to change it.History doesn’t write itself. People do.And maybe it’s time America picked up the pen— And started telling a better story.
Chapter 19: Final Thoughts & Call to Action This story… is not about the border. It’s not just about migrants. It’s about the soul of a country that keeps forgetting what it promised. - “Give me your tired, your poor…” But only if they never ask for help. Only if they stay quiet. Only if they disappear when they’re done.We’ve seen this before. And we’ll see it again— Unless we call it out, by name. So, to anyone listening:If you’re tired, If you’re angry, If you’re grieving… You’re not alone. We carry the stories of those who were used and refused. We remember the ones who had no voice—because now we do.And if you’ve ever been told you didn’t belong— Let me say this clearly:You do! , You always have! Author’s Note The stories in this episode are based on real events—past and present. If this episode moved you, share it. Talk about it. Challenge what feels normal.Because history doesn’t just repeat—it adapts. And it’s up to us to interrupt the cycle. Ways to Support This Podcast If you believe in what we’re doing here at Burden of History— If these stories
