Hello, My Name is Immigrant, and I am a scar tissue stretched over the jagged teeth of a border fence. My words may still cut like glass, but now they are muffled by the sound of heavy boots on the porch and the hum of white vans idling at the curb. My tongue still struggles to embrace a new cadence, but now it also learns the heavy silence of a mouth held shut to stay invisible.

The Architecture of Fear

Hello, My Name is “Targeted Enforcement,” and I am the embodiment of a perseverance that has been forced into hiding. I no longer just inhabit the shadows of three jobs; I haunt them. I am the ghost in the bustling cityscape who jumps when a zip-tie rattles. The bridge where I once found shelter is no longer a sanctuary; it is a cage in waiting. I try to mend a future from shards of the past, but the shards are getting smaller, and the hope that once cradled me has been replaced by the iron-cold reality of a “detainer.”

Hello, My Name is “Collateral Damage,” and I am the witness to the violent moment where the knock on the neighbor’s door becomes the end of my own story. Last night, I didn’t just feel fear heavy upon my chest; I felt the vibration of black tactical vests moving through the hallway, turning my home into a crime scene where the only crime is my breath.

The Bitter Taste of the Present

Hello, My Name is “Inmate Number,” and I find no solace in the flavors of my homeland when the kitchen is a place of surveillance. Every dish is a memory, yes, but now it is seasoned with the metallic tang of adrenaline. The familiar landscape painted on my palate is blurred by the fluorescent glare of a detention center. I still feel the strength coursing through my veins, but I am forced to use it just to keep my pulse steady when the ICE predator drones hum overhead.

Hello, My Name is “Removable,” and my hands bear the marks of toil, stained with the earth’s embrace. But your wary glances have evolved; they are no longer just cold, they are predatory. They have fed the beast within me, not a creature of malice, but one of survival, trapped in the struggle to reconcile two worlds when one of those worlds is trying to flay the identity from my skin.

The Final Stand

I am the balance between Yin and Yang, yet the scale is being crushed by the weight of handcuffs and the roar of a deportation flight. I am a nomad seeking solace, but the road has been lined with razor wire and sensors.

Hello, My Name is Immigrant, and despite the raids, the rhetoric, and the cages, I am a testament to the human spirit’s unyielding resolve. You may try to uproot me, but you will find my roots have turned to rebar, gripping the very foundation of this soil.

Even if you break the body, you cannot deport the ghost of my labor, I am the pulse in the pavement you walk upon.

©️ Beatriz Esmer