In a decision made by The Pearl Post Editorial board on Sept. 18, the writer was granted anonymity due to their family’s status.
My ability to communicate in Spanish has always been something I’ve been proud of. It’s the way I talk with others outside of school, whether they’re my family, workers or people I walk by in my neighborhood. To me, any accent slip or accidental code-switch I had when speaking English only served as a reminder of my Mexican culture and roots.
I was at school on Sept. 8 when I learned that the U.S. Supreme Court had ruled, by a 6-3 majority, that being different, whether that was by looking non-white or speaking Spanish or English with an accent, was enough to justify racial profiling and detention by immigration officers.
According to the Los Angeles (LA) Times article “Supreme Court allows Trump administration to resume indiscriminate raids,” published on Sept. 8, “The Supreme Court on Monday lifted an order that barred federal immigration agents in LA from stopping people based on race or ethnicity, language, location or employment, either alone or in combination.”
Overwhelmed by hopelessness and disbelief, my first instinct was to step outside of my classroom, struggling to process the decision that felt like a direct attack on not only my identity, but my community and culture. I couldn’t believe the outright racism being used to discriminate against Latinos in Los Angeles. My hands trembled as I emailed my family to ask if they had seen the news. They told me that was a conversation to have once we all got home. I could only hold my breath in anticipation and horror as I continued reading how the Supreme Court defended its ridiculous decisions.
“Whether an officer has reasonable suspicion depends on the totality of the circumstances,” Brett M. Kavanaugh wrote in the Noem v. Vasquez majority decision. “To be clear, apparent ethnicity alone cannot furnish reasonable suspicion; under this Court’s case law regarding immigration stops, however, it can be a “relevant factor” when considered along with other salient factors. Under this Court’s precedents, not to mention common sense, those circumstances taken together can constitute at least reasonable suspicion of illegal presence in the United States.”
I wasn’t too surprised by the Supreme Court’s ruling. Japanese people were allowed to be interned in camps in California during World War II in 1942 and now every Latino is free game for ICE. The Fourth Amendment banned unreasonable searches and seizures, but the Supreme Court decided it only applies to people who don’t fit a stereotype. If the Constitution and its amendments apply to everyone except the 65.2 millions of Latinos in the U.S, then it cannot speak for anyone in the country.
My family was initially silent as we made the ride back home that same day. My older sister was in the seat next to me, trying her hardest not to burst into tears in front of me. It wasn’t until my father was about to turn on the radio that I asked my parents if they had seen the news. I was told to wait until I got home so we could all talk about it together.
My heart broke more and more as my family promised me that we would always have hope and stay together for as long as we could. But I can’t believe in that promise, knowing that my safety is no longer guaranteed just because I was born here, or that so many of my friends and relatives are at risk just because of their appearance or language. It’s become a harder thought to navigate as well, since I feel the threat of something going wrong or someone I love being taken away wherever I go, even at school.
Despite being a birthright US citizen, I’ve always been afraid of being detained by ICE, a fear I’ve carried for years. When I was little, I would always hear about how “la migra” (ICE and Border Patrol) would put us all into “hieleras,” which was the slang used to describe the holding cells families and children were being put into by the Texas Border Patrol back in 2014. I was in elementary school during President Donald Trump’s first term and I still remember the way everyone in my class cried for their families when it was announced who had won over the school’s PA (Public Address) system.
“Today’s ruling by the Supreme Court undermines constitutional protections and opens the door to more indiscriminate stops and arrests,” UnidosUS president and CEO Janet Murguia said in a statement on Sept. 8. “It authorizes targeting by authorities that makes all immigrants, Hispanics and other non-white Americans, suspects simply because of the color of their skin or the language they speak. In doing so, the Court has put the civil rights of every person in the United States at risk.”
There is a certain quietness in my neighborhood whenever I go outside. I have to take my school ID with me at all times and my passport if I ever go somewhere far from home, whether that’s somewhere like DTLA or Orange County. The people I’d once see daily and say hi to when walking outside now carry a look of unease and distrust. If they speak, it is only to say “hello” as quietly as possible before walking away faster.
At the end of the day, I can only feel some solace in knowing that my family is all together. But because of ICE raids, that’s no longer a guarantee for me. All I can do is ask my mom if we’re going to be alright. She can only give me one response: “Todos vamos a estar bien si es lo que Dios quiera (We are all going to be fine if that’s what God wants.)”
