Letters

Close your eyes and picture yourself asking for one more day.

This isn’t about death — it’s about fear. Not the kind that comes from a horror movie, but the fear that creeps into everyday life: at the grocery store, the mall, anywhere.

I was born a U.S. citizen to immigrant parents who taught me to be strong and courageous. But in today’s society, courage doesn’t erase the fear that haunts me daily. The papers that prove my right to be here feel meaningless when people like me are still discriminated against and treated like threats.

None of us is safe anymore; they’re getting closer.

My father once faced an almost unimaginable situation: On a random Wednesday, ICE was stopping cars with immigrants. Passing them, his hands trembled and his heart pounded. In a single heartbeat, life can change.

This is the society we live in. One that asks us to be brave but invisible, carrying fears that others don’t see or understand.

Many say they stand against injustice — but do they truly understand what it means to be separated from the ones you love? Actions mean more than words. You may be reading this to “spread awareness,” but have you imagined your own child being chained and sent to a prison for nothing?

A 15-year-old boy — no criminal record — was sent to what they called “Alligator Alcatraz” for three days, just for being Mexican. He was released, but the trauma remains.

Until you live this reality, your sympathy is only a mask.

I was born in Southampton. This is my home. I don’t want to live in fear of losing friends, family and my community simply because of where my parents were born.

Most of us are not criminals — we are mothers, fathers, students, workers. We are the housekeepers cleaning your rooms, the landscapers shaping your yards, the carpenters building your homes. Yet we are captured, torn from our families and treated like threats.

When one person is taken, entire families are uprooted and forced to return to the dangers they fled. Behind locked doors in detention centers are innocent people facing pain and fear that you can’t begin to imagine. This is not a distant problem — it’s happening right now to people living among you. These aren’t just news stories; they are lives shattered, futures stolen, voices silenced.

So, before you turn the page, ask yourself: What would you do if it were your family?

Because for us, this is not a story.

It’s our reality.

Sofia Altamirano

Southampton