By Anonymous
I’m crouched in a dark room with my one-year-old, holding my breath, willing her to stay quiet. She giggles and calls for her brother. He’s searching for us. We’re playing hide-and-seek.
For a moment, my mind slips into another world—one where I’m not playing. One where I’m hiding with my babies, praying they stay silent so we aren’t found. So we aren’t taken. The thought chills me.
I saw a post the other day:
“Somewhere in the USA, a Latina Anne Frank is hiding from ICE in an attic.”
The last few weeks have been a blur of anger, disbelief, and dread. I know what’s happening. I pay attention. I remember history class. I’ve read Martin Niemöller’s poem.
What I don’t know is what to do. How to fight back. How to help. And, if it comes to it—when to leave. Timing matters. What if the borders close? The man in power craves dominance, and history has shown us what men like him do when given unchecked power.
I’m Canadian. I’ve lived here for 17 years. When the tariff war with Canada, Mexico, and China was announced, I got an email from a Canadian lawyer: Do not cross the border. Pardon my French but, what the actual fuck? Canada and the U.S. have always been allies. No one wins a tariff war—or any war—with Canada.
I live in Los Angeles, where undocumented immigrants are part of the fabric of daily life. They are not hidden. They are everywhere. The economy relies on them. An estimated one in ten children in California has at least one undocumented parent. These are the people we trust to take care of our kids, clean our homes, cook our meals.
They work tirelessly, often for less than they deserve. Every Thursday, my kids run outside to greet José, our gardener. They chase him around with toy leaf blowers, eager to help. They answer him in Spanish. Their first word—like so many L.A. kids raised by Spanish-speaking caregivers—was agua.
If you take a moment to hear their stories, the horrible challenges they had to face to get here, you understand why they risked everything to come to the US.
I am disgusted by what’s happening in this country. The open, shameless racism. The hypocrisy of so-called “Christian” leaders who spew hatred and push their own political agendas. The voters who cheer against their own interests, driven by resentment and fear.
A post I saw recently sticks with me:
“People didn’t vote for him for what he could do for them. They voted for him for what he could do against the people they hate.”
A brutal truth. A sad one.
As an immigrant, a woman, a mother, an employer, a human—I refuse to be silent. I would have hidden Anne Frank in my attic, and if ICE comes, I will hide whoever needs it.
I am breaking the silence. Calling things as they are. Sharing information. Speaking up when it matters. I am too much. I am loud. I call my representatives. I check in on my neighbors. And if this country crosses a line that cannot be uncrossed, I will leave.
What about you? What are you doing?
