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I have PTSD, but PTSD isn’t rare. See, I come from a community of predominantly Black and Indigenous undocumented immigrants from all over the world, and PTSD is something that a lot of us struggle with.

As (un)documented immigrants, we have been forced to migrate out of our homes.

Some of us migrate because international corporations came to our villages, built factories, polluted our water, destroyed our ecosystem, and, therefore, eradicated our access to healthy foods and safe working conditions.

Others come searching for refuge (from war, military invasion, and so on). Some arrive to ask for political asylum (for anti-LGBTQIA+ violence in their countries, murders against women, and so on). Others come because they were trafficked, and some come without the intention of staying.

My point is being undocumented isn’t something that just happens.

Undocumentedness is a painful experience rooted in oppressive powers that make living conditions so atrocious in one’s home country that those who are most affected have to flee – if they don’t die – and find a life elsewhere.

Once we do migrate – most undocumented people migrate “legally,” and then lose status – life becomes even harder.

Because we aren’t protected under the law, most of us are seen as cheap labor. Factories, farms, manufacturers, homeowners, restaurants, businesses, and so on want our labor, but only if we agree to be overworked, underpaid, and go uninsured.

The immigration system isn’t broken. The immigration system created the “illegal alien,” because the US (as an empire) depends on our labor in order to continue to grow as a capitalist and modern society.

The US depends on our labor the same way in which it depended on slave labor, on the colonization of Indigenous land, and on the exploitation of female bodies.

Under the new presidential administration, we have witnessed anti-immigrant rhetoric that portrays immigrants as violent to society and in need of deportation. This rhetoric is strategic.

First, it allows white people to feel okay about their xenophobia, racism, and anti-blackness.

aSecond, this rhetoric makes immigrants so afraid that they actually become easier to control. And, third, this rhetoric allows for immigration to continue to work the way that it was designed to work: to label some immigrants good, while others bad.

This dichotomy of good immigrant/ bad immigrant is set up to uphold values of white supremacy, settler-colonialism, capitalism and anti-Blackness.

This rhetoric, however, has also intensified the amount of fear, anxiety and vulnerability in our communities. It’s for this reason that I write. I want all of you (documented or not) to know that your life matters, and that we aren’t powerless.

I want to affirm that whatever you’re feeling isn’t an exaggeration. You have a right to your feelings.

I hope that this piece helps alleviate some of the public panic we’ve experienced and turns panic into resistance.

1. Being Scared Isn’t a Weakness

There have been few moments in my life where I truly felt that I was hopeless.

The first moment was in 2010 when my family couldn’t afford heat during the Boston winters. I thought we wouldn’t survive. I was scared.

However, my family made it through. Our fright forced us to be creative. We learned to all sleep in the same room, to wear layers to bed, and we learned how to hold each other tight.

That was in 2010, and seven years later, I’ve learned that being scared isn’t a weakness. As immigrants, we have a right to be scared.

We currently live in a xenophobic society that judges us based on our skin color, our accent, our religion, and our culture. So, yes, being scared is normal.

In this article, I don’t mean to normalize fear.

Instead, I mean to expose the fact that – under the structures of settler-colonialism, racism, and anti-Blackness – Black and Indigenous people and other people of color are among the most vulnerable populations, and therefore, live with a lot of fear.

However, that can change. We can turn our fear into power. Fear is a war tactic that forces marginalized communities to feel weak.

To counter our fear and self-doubt, we must learn that we’re powerful – power is waking up and acknowledging each other’s struggles.

Power is being honest when we need help. Power is admitting that we have messed up, and thinking of ways to move forward. Power is learning to be in community with one another.

Fear is an emotion we can regulate and transform into power.

2. You Can Checkout of Social Media

Let’s face it, there’s a lot of public panic in social media.

In order for us to continue fighting, we might have to get off social media. Maybe just for a week, a weekend, one day, or two hours!

As my colleague, Sian Ferguson explains in an article about online activism:“While your work is so important, it’s entirely possible for you to take a break from social media and pass the baton onto other activists.”

When you checkout of social media because you are becoming more and more anxious about the state of our communities, what you’re actually doing is taking care of yourself.

Tuning out of social media – even if only for an hour – is a form of resistance that allows you to continue taking care of others and yourself.

For example, I have PTSD.

A few days ago, I opened my Facebook and saw a combination of the NDAPL camps being burned, immigrants being detained, and trans women being murdered. I was triggered. There was violence all over the news. I had to tune out.

When I tuned out, I called a friend, and we chatted for two hours. This friend made me reflect on what it was that I needed: I realized that I had been missing meals, and I realized that I wasn’t talking to anyone about how I was feeling.

Because I tuned out of social media, I was able to take care of myself, and then write this article!

3. You Don’t Have to Be at Every Protest (Or Any!)

As someone who came-of-age attending May 1st protests in my little neighborhood of East Boston, I have realized that protesting is only one form of community organizing and activism.

As a community organizer, I know that protests are key in bringing people together for a few hours, and send a direct message to either the local government, or an entire society.

However, as someone who is Black and also an immigrant, I know that I have a higher risk of being detained at a protest, imprisoned, and deported.