Tuesday, June 24, 2025

Outgrowing the Past: On Endings, Discipline, and Choosing Myself

Lately, I have been sitting with quiet truths—the kind that take time to rise to the surface. One of those truths is this: I have outgrown certain relationships, certain patterns, and certain parts of myself. And as hard as that is to accept, it is also freeing.


Recently, I ended a friendship that had lasted since middle school. We had a deep history—years of shared experiences, laughter, mistakes, and growing up. I always imagined we would be in each other’s lives forever. But the truth is, we grew in different directions. I kept making room in my life for someone who no longer made space for me. And over time, I realized that holding on was hurting more than letting go.


This decision did not come from anger. It came from clarity. From the understanding that honoring your peace sometimes means walking away from what once felt familiar.


At the same time, my youngest brother has been deployed to Qatar for over a month now. Watching him step into that level of service and responsibility has shifted something in me. His courage, discipline, and quiet strength have made me reflect on how I want to show up in my own life. What am I committed to? What do I need to let go of in order to grow?


That reflection has led me to make my social media private again—not because I am hiding, but because I am protecting. My peace. My healing. My boundaries. I am no longer interested in being visible to everyone. I want to be present with myself.


This is a season of shedding: old roles, old friendships, old versions of myself. I am not who I used to be, and that is something I am learning to celebrate instead of mourn.


To the people and parts of my past I have outgrown: thank you. You were necessary. And now, I am choosing something new—something grounded, disciplined, and aligned with who I am becoming.
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Wednesday, June 11, 2025

What Are We Really Doing? The Cost of Misinformation and the Dehumanization of Immigrants

 Lately, watching the news feels like reopening a wound that never fully healed. I see headlines, protests, and soundbites—and buried beneath it all, I see lives being manipulated, discarded, and politicized. The recent increase in ICE enforcement, the media coverage around deportations, and the confusion surrounding immigration monitoring programs have stirred something deep in me—not just as a Honduran immigrant, but as someone who knows the system from the inside.

Let me be clear: ICE agents have a job to do. But a badge and authority should never give someone the right to humiliate, traumatize, or dehumanize others. What we are witnessing—again—is the abuse of power disguised as enforcement. And it hurts. Because immigrants are not just numbers on a report or faces on a screen. We are people. We are families. We are dreams interrupted.

What angers me the most is how immigrants are once again being used as pawns for political and societal manipulation. Fear-mongering headlines. Misleading soundbites. Social media campaigns twisting narratives to stoke fear. The media is playing a key role in misinforming the public, and it is working. Too many people in the United States do not understand how immigration policy actually functions—or how deeply broken and inequitable it truly is.

Here’s what many people do not know: The "monitoring programs" being praised as a more humane solution are often misunderstood. These are not programs helping immigrants go through a legal process. They are surveillance programs applied to immigrants who have already been issued final orders of removal. That means their case has already been denied. They are not “waiting their turn” legally—they are under supervision while ICE prepares for their deportation.

Meanwhile, people like me who tried to do things the “right way” faced endless delays, legal hurdles, and separation from family. I spent 13 years outside of the United States waiting to re-enter lawfully. Thirteen years of missed birthdays, milestones, and grief. I followed the law. I waited. I paid thousands of dollars in legal fees. I did not jump the line. But the truth is: there is no single “line.” Immigration policy is a maze, and its rules change depending on your country of origin, your political context, and even your race.

Let us be honest about asylum. Yes, asylum is a legal right under U.S. and international law for those who fear persecution based on race, religion, nationality, membership in a particular social group, or political opinion. But deteriorating conditions or economic hardship do not qualify on their own. Asylum has a very specific legal definition—and we have to stop confusing humanitarian empathy with legal eligibility.

When we blur the line between compassion and legality, we do more harm than good. We create false hope. We deepen public mistrust. And we make it harder for real reform to happen.

Here are a few facts to ground this conversation:

  • The Alternatives to Detention (ATD) program, which includes electronic monitoring, has grown significantly under both Republican and Democratic administrations. As of 2024, over 200,000 people are enrolled. But again, most are already under deportation orders (TRAC Immigration, 2024).

  • Immigrants from countries like Honduras, Guatemala, and El Salvador often wait 10–15 years for lawful permanent residency through family-based petitions due to visa backlogs (U.S. Department of State, 2024).

  • Asylum approval rates vary greatly by nationality, legal representation, and location of the court. In 2023, the national average was around 30%, with much lower success rates for Central American applicants (TRAC Immigration, 2023).

  • Title 42 and other emergency measures disrupted the asylum process for years, leading many to try irregular crossings or face expedited removal—yet most Americans are unaware of how U.S. policies actively created bottlenecks.

So, what message are we sending? We reward irregular entry with faster access and vilify those who wait. We flood the airwaves with fear instead of facts. And we allow social media and cable news to shape public opinion more than legal frameworks and lived experiences.

I am not saying we should lack compassion. But compassion without clarity is dangerous. We owe it to ourselves—and to every immigrant past and present—to be informed, honest, and courageous enough to demand a better system. One rooted in fairness, dignity, and accountability.

Because when we do not understand the process, we become complicit in the very system that continues to break so many of us.

So, what do we do now?

We start by getting informed, amplifying the truth, and supporting real reform. Here are a few ways you can take action today:

📚 Educate Yourself and Others

Understanding immigration policy is not just for lawyers or politicians. It is for anyone who cares about justice and truth.

🧭 Know the Legal Process

Understanding what asylum actually means and how long it takes to migrate legally helps us challenge misinformation:

🗣️ Speak Up, Even When It Is Uncomfortable

Correct misinformation when you hear it. Share your story or elevate others who have lived it. Do not let social media be the only source of “truth.”

  • Talk to your community.

  • Challenge bias in your workplace or schools.

  • Write to your elected officials.

🤝 Support Immigrant-Led Organizations

These groups offer legal support, shelter, and advocacy for immigrants navigating a broken system:

This is personal. It is systemic. It is political. And it is human.

Let us stop being manipulated. Let us stop staying silent.
Let us start demanding more—because we deserve better.

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