by Claudia Reyes
Where I live, we have to watch out for who knocks on our door. Where I live, it’s not safe to leave the door half open or unlocked. It’s not because we’re worried about the cold air coming in or the wind blowing in leaves or dust. Where I live, we have to keep our door locked with a chain because ICE might arrive and try to tear it down. Now, before we open the door we have to look carefully through the peephole or the window curtain to see who is knocking.
Now, where I live, we have to train the kids to not run outside or open the door. Where I live in this country, we don’t even know our neighbors well, much less now when we have an underlying fear they may be ICE informants.
Where I live, now we spend almost all of our time watching TV, seeing how dumbass 45 keeps fucking us over with his damn wall and deportation priorities.
But in the same place, where I live, there lives a woman warrior who fights back, fasts, walks 100 miles or more against deportations and the separation of families. Where I live, my mom also lives, and she is not afraid to open the door to her neighbor.
Where I live, on Sundays we don’t lock our door with a chain, because that’s when the family comes by to be together. Where I live, my mother talks with her grandchildren, telling them to not be afraid, because the government is afraid of us. My mother shows them how she is here Without Papers and Unafraid.
That is where I live.