ICE is in my town
I can hear the helicopters daily
My neighbors are all on edge, and terrorized.
There are trucks chasing down people, ripping them from their families at school drop offs or at work places. They come in unmarked cars, with people spilling out of them some in uniforms, some not.
They are terrorizing the local farms, greenhouses and field workers. My area grows strawberries, celery, broccoli, avocados that not only feed our county, but the state and the nation.
I am forever wounded from what I have seen broadcast across community protection live-streams, help your neighbor, film what you see, encourage them to be silent and not allow entry.
One of my senators was handcuffed for trying to ask a question yesterday.
I am immunocompromised and exhausted, but today I am printing postcards that will be addressed and handed out at the protest tomorrow, in hopes to get more people to contact their representatives; write their rage to the white house and supreme court.
These most recent days have re-awakened a level of generational trauma I didn't know I carried.
I have planted food, I have touched earth, I have sat in contemplation and I am so deeply enraged.
I will not make excuses or ask for forgiveness for it.
I am shouting and screaming and fighting in any way I can.
My neighbors deserve better, children deserve better, the world deserves better.
