Resources for Police and Immigration Encounters

Trying to compile resources like Know Your Rights kits and action kits into one page as a lot of these are circulating separately. These are important to have as these raids happen in our immigrant communities. But lets not forget that these different branches of enforcement, Police ICE and the FBI, have been terrorizing our communities for years. These systems are all connected, immigration detention deportation and incarceration. Stay alert. If you know of anymore please send my way.

American Civil Liberties Union - What to do if you’re stopped by immigration, police or the FBI

Civil Liberties Defense Center - Know your rights for immigrant communities

Communities United for Police Reform - Know your rights when interacting with the police 

Detention Watch Network - List of know your rights resources

Disability Rights - A guide for persons with disabilities when interacting with the police

Families for Freedom - Know when you can be deported and when immigration can detain you. Tips for detainees, prisoners & families on the outside.

Immigrant Defense Project - Know your rights presentation with Families for Freedom

Immigration Legal Resource Center - Know your rights during an immigration raid and for parents who are detained near or outside their child’s school

Lambda Legal - List of resources for Transgender Immigrants

National Immigrant Justice Center - Know your rights for detained immigrants

National Immigration Law Center - Know your rights when encountering law enforcement, during a raid, at home, at a protest, in school, if arrested or detained.

Stop Street Harassment - When police are the street harassers

Streetwise and Safe - Street safety for trans and gender non-conforming youth

One America - Know your rights if stopped by the police and during a raid kits and action tool kits during a raid

United We Dream - Toolbox of resources

privilege of loving

having sex for the first time is scary as hell
my hands and legs are shaking, i know he can tell
but especially if you’ve been assaulted
can’t just hop on it, i need to be comforted
porn always told me it was supposed to be easier than this
but I can’t seem to figure out if i’m the right fit
we’ve been trying for a bit now but it hurts too much
just sit on it already! he says desperate for my touch
but the tingles and hormones can’t overshadow the stretch happening down there
the thoughts and flashbacks happening up here
and while i love the way his eyes caress my skin
the previous assault set me on fire in pain that sunk in
there is no running from this, ashamed
this body is not fit for loving
it was created from oppressions and rapes
no room for lounging in the privilege of loves
and while his laughter appears loudly in my dreams
this burden aches heavy on my bones tearing me at the seams
there are no words to express how foreign this skin is
that no matter how I peel my clothes off
something still feels wrong
I tell him I love him and wish I could
but the reality is complicated and misunderstood
there is something about our bodies touching side by side
that feels uniquely intimate and intense and perfectly fine
my mind and body don’t seem to coordinate right
but with you everything makes sense, i feel light
these colonized hips
lined with stretch marks like rips
want to ride you into freedom
you’re the only person to visit this kingdom
is it okay if i touch here? do you like my tongue there?
I ask him but I am really asking myself
nerves racing through me
what’s wrong with me
you’re safe here
why don’t you trust him
why don’t you trust me
he smiles that smile of his and starts undoing my buttons
how do survivors express love while feeling rotten
another button
my back muscles start to tense up
I just want the past to be forgotten
another button
another button
shivers run through my open shirt as he slides his hand
this has to be too much for this body to withstand
i didn’t think i could do this with anyone after surviving assault
it took realizing none of it was my fault
and there I stand, uncovered
with my secrets out in the open, stripped
nothing of me left to hide, unclothed
hoping you’ll be okay with the broken me, naked

How #standwithpp is an #immigration issue

I’m really sad and frustrated right now. I don’t see enough immigrant activists and immigration groups publicly standing with planned parenthood as they’re attacked left and right.

Access to reproductive health services is an immigration issue as well.

Undocumented immigrants lack access to health care and oftentimes are also low income. Planned parenthood clinics are one of the few places immigrants are welcomed and treated.

Can’t they just go to another clinic?

No because in some states planned parenthood clinics are the only ones that offered reproductive health services. Undocumented immigrants sometimes don’t have access to transportation, licenses, and safe neighborhoods free of immigration agents to travel elsewhere.

We should focus on having more clinics, not defund and close those that are open.

Planned parenthood provides life saving services like sti/std treatment and reproductive health check ups and provide contraceptives. Things undocumented immigrants need without shame or stigma.

Our immigrant community faces violence and dehumanization. Accessing reproductive health care is already hard enough when you lack a social. Defunding the clinics that provide such valuable care is violence.

Many immigrants come from countries where their bodies were controlled and abused. Some of us come from countries where people dying from clandestine abortions is a common occurrence. Some of us come from countries where we knew of someone who had to leave to seek reproductive health care elsewhere. By making abortions more inaccessible (because they are inaccessible to many already) we play games with people’s lives.

Because immigrants are raped on their journey to another country. Because immigrants get contraceptives before they migrate because they know they’ll be raped.

This is a reproductive justice issue.

Immigrant activists need to show up for reproductive health care providers and groups. Because undocumented immigrants and all immigrants need these services and shouldn’t be shamed for it. Because our communities deserve to be healthy and happy.

Because part of seeking a better life is also being autonomous people. This includes having access to information and all resources to make decisions about our families and our health.

These decisions range from migrating to another country to going to a reproductive health clinic.

Reproductive health care is an immigration issue.

On being a super strong woman

I am tired
sometimes i want to crawl into a hole and hide from everyone
let go of these burdens and sleep past my alarm clock
sometimes i don’t want to be the super strong independent woman
I’d rather let you hold all this for a bit
can i trust you?

I am emotional
and sometimes it seems like others don’t want to see that side of you
the sad side
the vulnerable and weak side
the one that asks for help
and needs a hug
the one who doesn’t have answers or solutions
they’ve gotten used to marveling at your strength and being uplifted by it
they can’t figure out how to replenish your fountain
they’re used to taking from it

what do you mean you’re not a source of strength for me?

your fountain
the foundation that holds up families and communities
as you sit in the sun waiting for it to rain again
let the drops fill up your core with strength to carry through the drought
because we’ve learned how to be whole with the earth

mujer eres tan fuerte
they admire your strength
but fail to recognize that it took being broken too many times to be this thick
and sometimes
it wasn’t a choice
it was to survive

But still he asked me

Why are you so dramatic
Have you ever stopped to think that feeling and displaying emotions is a normal part of being a human being

Why are you always angry
This statement is usually followed by statements to minimize what I think what I feel and make me feel wrong as if being passionate is a bad thing as if being angry is a bad thing

Why are you so combative
Better yet ask yourself why you feel intimidated by an opinionated woman or why you think I can’t challenge you or why when you have no response you police my tone ask yourself what in the statement you made was triggering offensive or wrong

While trauma rushes through me
Circulating through my veins
making my hands shake
But still you ask
Why
Why
Why
Why are you so intense
take up too much space
Talk too loud
Laugh too loud
Act too free
Why do you have so many thoughts
So many ideas
So many beliefs
So many opinions
Why do you dare to be human
While I try to oppress you
Degrade you
Hurt you
Tame you
Censor you
Control you
Overpower you
Rape you
Harass you
Assault you
Kill you
You still ask
How dare you be yourself
Powerful you

But can we talk?

But can we talk ?

Did social justice movements leave us silent?
Can we talk about these things?
Talk about how it’s hard to envision ourselves in the just and better world we hope others have

How at the end of the day we still feel lonely

How we fight for families while struggling to even talk to our own

How at no point are we addressing the trauma and pain from the past from the present

How some organizers are violent and abusive but still involved because they’re an asset

How we excuse the violence

But can we talk?

About how back to back actions leave us feeling empty while others think it’s only empowering

About how it hurts our family and friends and we can’t figure out how to solve it

About how we don’t stop to reflect because what we will find scares the shit out of us

About how it’s easier to organize out of anger because love is an uncontrollable all consuming feeling

About the harmful ways we cope

About the fear that we’re only friends during campaigns 

But can we talk?

About how we’ve left ourselves on the last slot of our priority list

mi cuerpo

Mi cuerpo el campo de batalla
Mi cuerpo un soldado en guerra
Mi cuerpo sin autodeterminación
Mi cuerpo un trapo desechable
Mi cuerpo

Mi cuerpo un océano de amor infinito
Mi cuerpo un río de felicidad
Mi cuerpo el sol alumbrando el mundo
Mi cuerpo la luna alumbrando en la oscuridad
Mi cuerpo

Mi cuerpo chicle pisado
Mi cuerpo tapete tirado
Mi cuerpo estrujado
Mi cuerpo ahogado
Mi cuerpo luchador
Mi cuerpo defensor

Mi cuerpo
Mi cuerpo

The feminism I was always a part of

I never needed academics to tell me something was wrong when those in my neighborhood disappeared due to police violence, army recruiters, or deportation.

We knew about gender roles way before it formulated as a word in our vocabulary. We knew because our fathers and brothers behaved and were treated differently than moms and sisters.

We knew our brother would stay out later. Play with different toys. Sit and watch TV when we cooked.

We also knew of men who left school to help provide. About the neighbors we grew up with and learned to love who were later considered gang members. We knew them by name.

I never needed academics to tell me women are powerful.

I saw it when all the women in my community came together during natural disasters, holidays, birthdays, domestic violence incidents, arrests, deaths, and more.

I saw them come together and gossip about how dangerous men could be while cooking sancochos and moro con guandules together. I saw them house a friend who ran away from an abusive partner. I saw them care for kids as if they were their own because we all knew paying for daycare was a luxury.

I never needed academics to tell me about culture or that something was wrong when we were made fun of for speaking another language when I endured the stares and the bullying when english wasn’t allowed to be spoken at home porque no debes olvidar de donde vienes.

When dancing was part of your cultural upbringing and almost an expectation, not something you were shamed for.

I never needed academics to tell me women are powerful.

I saw them fight for each other whether at religious institutions or outside of them. They created magic from the little to nothing they had. I saw single mothers triumph.

We all knew we all needed to succeed as a unit, as a family and as a community. Not just the women not just the girls. We wanted our brothers and cousins and fathers to be safe. To be home. To thrive. We didn’t need academics to tell us patriarchy ruins their lives too. We saw it first hand as the test objects of that power and witnesses to its powerlessness.

When boys were yelled at and slapped for crying. When boys weren’t allowed to play with our dolls. We didn’t need academics to tell us about gendered expectations.

I didn’t need academics to tell me something was wrong when attending college was a luxury almost none of us could afford. When we all knew our school was the “bad school” with no resources and too many kids for one guidance counselor. We all knew we weren’t college material but the “better school” miles away was on that track. We all knew different skin color meant different treatment.

Because our novelas were never included in academia. It never included our friends and cousins who became pregnant and we all still loved them. It never included the abuelitas who raised entire villages and sold arepas y tamales to hold entire houses together. It never included those of us who want love and one day say “I do”.

I never needed academics to tell me what feminism was about as I was already a part of it passed down from generations.

i don't even know what just happened

When processing emotions of what happened last night with regards to immigration, they’ll come out in all kinds of ways.

Many undocumented loved ones will be left out of this immigration executive action. It seems like this is the only thing that’ll be done on immigration in a while. Some will benefit, some will not, some will be deported, some will get to stay. This program is imperfect. This program isn’t stable enough for people to trust it completely.

What happens when Obama leaves office? When do we stop fighting? When do we get to rest? If our loved ones do benefit and are able to apply for this executive plan, will they be able to see a doctor? to establish a career? to benefit from the services they’re taxed for? Will they be able to travel back home? To retire? What happens to the recently arrived immigrants? To those with criminal records? to the families in detention center? To the deported parents of citizen children? Will the deportation machine slow down or will it only speed up? What happens to LGBTQ undocumented immigrants? Will we continue fighting or will some of us leave the movement and live our lives now that we’ve found some ‘relief’?

Sometimes, our doubts, fears, disappointment, and anxiety come out in healthy rage, anger, pain, tears, celebration, laughter, emptiness. That’s okay. That’s normal. 

Lets be conscious of each other’s reactions, emotions, and beliefs. Lets not tell those who are hurting to be grateful. Those who are left out that “at least something was done”. For a moment. Let us hurt.

We know organizing continues and we know a lot of work needs to be done, but for a second, we also need to rest. to sleep. to cry. to process. to stop. to breathe. to regain energy. 

Elected officials aren’t the ones who have to tell their loved ones they are not eligible. That’s on community and family members. The same organizers that benefited from DACA but won’t be able to see their parents benefit.

All this takes a toll on all of us.

These executive actions impact real people, real families, real community members. This executive order does little to address huge overarching issues or root causes of immigration.

It really is a bitter sweet moment.

For some families and some individuals, it is sweet. for others, bitter. This is life changing for many. I want to acknowledge that too. We often don’t stop to think about the good. we don’t stop to celebrate the small victories. These small steps can be victories for some. 

But to say that this immigration system only benefits the lucky and privileged may be true for some instances. But maybe not for others. Many of us were only able to “benefit” from this system because of rape, assault, violence, abuse, trafficking, abandonment. These aren’t things that stem from luck or privilege. It’s worth to keep in mind when understanding what this immigration system has done to us. How we internalize and define what makes us and others worthy of qualifying for anything. 

This immigration system is all kinds of messed up. These arbitrary categories are designed to separate us and group us into deserving/ not deserving. Don’t let it happen. We are all valuable and worthy. Papers don’t define that. We will keep organizing and we need all of you to join.

Support, love, encouragement on all fronts. That’s what is needed most.

On Supporting Immigrants Who've Been Sexually Assaulted

For the past two years I’ve become outspoken about being sexually abused as a child. I also lived undocumented for 19 years. While both, undocumented and victim/survivor, aren’t identities I carry with me, they’re realities that have impacted me. Sometimes, support from other immigrants isn’t where it should be.

I’ve been in spaces where jokes are made about abuse, violence, and rape by people who are so on point about immigrant rights issues. I’ve been in spaces where victim/survivors have been questioned about their assault stories from other immigrants. What were the details of the abuse? What *actually* happened? Details. Details. Details.

It’s heartbreaking, especially from others who truly understand what it means to carry such a big secret. What it means to be undocumented and keep that to yourself. That sometimes silence is the best way of coping. Sometimes, silence is safe. Silence is best.

Details are draining. They make me feel like you don’t believe me. Like you need a play by play of what happened in order to determine if it was actually abuse or not. It’s for ~you~ to determine if the abuse was “as bad as you say it is”. Details don’t make the abuse disappear. Speaking it out loud can be powerful for some but detrimental to others. What was done to me is not a reality show for you to consume.

Now that I have a U Non-immigrant Visa as a direct result of what was done to me, I’m at a place where my immigration status and victim/survivor status connect. When I first received my acceptance letter, everyone around me celebrated this as if I had just won the noble peace prize. Very few stopped to think about what it must be like to only be eligible for a visa for being abused. About what it means to look at these immigration papers and be reminded that I was in fact a victim/survivor. What it means to fight and fight for immigrant rights in a country that defines your worth through crimes and pain. Very few stopped to ask me how the application process was and how I was doing emotionally. Very few stopped to think about the emptiness that comes with receiving papers as a consequence of your abuser’s actions. I wrote about it here.

Still, I was called dramatic, selfish, and ungrateful. Many speculated I made up the abuse to qualify for a U Non-immigrant Visa and adjust my status. Others made jokes about me and this visa behind my back, minimized my experiences, and suggested I leave the immigrant rights movement now that I “was okay”…summarizing me to immigration status only. I hope to exist in a world/movement where humanity and community isn’t measured through immigration papers. 

Still, i was told to be “thankful” for this immigration status change and that I was “lucky” for such an opportunity. I should be thankful that I was lucky enough to have been sexually abused? And for my friends who were abused abroad (and therefore not eligible for a U-Visa), you mean I’m lucky I was abused in the USA? At the right time in the right place. 

What have we internalized that experiencing violence now becomes a marker of luck? success? A reason to celebrate?

I wouldn’t want anyone to be sexually abused. I could never articulate how life-ruining it is. I would also never hope for someone to be undocumented. Similarly, It’s a frustrating and many times unbearable experience.

I’ve been in spaces where others who were also victim/survivors of crimes were disappointed they weren’t eligible to a path for citizenship, rather than being disappointed they were hurt in that way.

This system has taught us that there are specific measurements of worth to the point that we get mad we weren’t abused correctly to be eligible for something. To the point where we wish it were us that was hurt. We’ve internalized it all. The pain the stigma the standards of worth the measurements of success. We repeat reuse recycle hurtful messages and hurtful treatment of others. 

When we become stuck on obtaining immigration papers at all cost, we lack empathetic understanding of multidimensional identities, experiences, and the impact of both. This isn’t always our fault. We’ve been raised to believe these papers are everything. So much so that violence is welcomed. Because in a country that constantly dehumanizes you and your community, what is another act of violence? 

I hope we will allow ourselves to grow, learn, and become better towards each other. Because right now, we are all we have. Where will we go and what will we do if the few spaces where community actually exist also become violent and un-supportive?