Legality Isn’t the Same as Safety
It never was, for most of us. Coming home to the U.S. Border... and living here.
Welcome Home (Sort of?)
Legal Isn’t the Same as Safe: What Happened When We Came Back to the U.S.
We turned off our phones before we landed back in the United States.
As we were inbound to JFK from Barcelona after a family vacation, my husband and I quietly deleted our social media apps, disabled facial recognition, and wiped our phones of anything that could be used to access personal information.
We texted friends we trusted: If you don’t hear from me by 10 p.m., reach out. If I’m silent for hours, it’s not on purpose. It means something’s wrong.
Then we turned them off before we arrived at the gate. Not airplane mode… Fully off.
My husband is Australian. He’s also a U.S. green card holder and has been for a decade. Before that, he worked here on a work visa. He pays taxes on his income, as do I (and as do most Americans, green card holders, legal residents, and undocumented individuals, although undocumented people will never be able to receive benefits like Medicare or Social Security).
The very rich, including citizen Jeff Bezos and resident Elon Musk, rarely pay taxes. Legal status doesn’t determine fairness—power does. How? Tricks and fuckery. (But to get into that is a whole rabbit hole.)
Different Lines
It used to be that citizens and permanent residents entered the U.S. through the same line. This time, at JFK, the word “Permanent Residents” had been covered with a strip of tape. Not even replaced, but completely taped over. We were told to go through the visitors’ line. We could’ve split up: my son and I through the citizens’ line, my husband with the visitors’. But that didn’t feel wise. Not in 2025.
Our son, born in the United States, holds dual citizenship. I’m a U.S. citizen by birth. We had done nothing wrong, said nothing online that could be considered any kind of threat. The United States is a democracy, right? We’re allowed to question our leaders?
And yet we were scared. And we are white, middle-class, extremely privileged people. We are more than fortunate in this case, and most cases.
(Which is one reason I will always use my privileged, fortunate, white voice to speak: There might be consequences. But I will be damned if I’m not using my privilege to either elevate voices or speak up.)
No, you are not paranoid if you’ve been watching the news. Anyone with eyes and ears can see what’s happening. And we were about to see for ourselves.
So we waited. There were about 40 people ahead of us and at least a hundred behind us, but the line barely moved. Two agents processed everyone in the Visitors’ line while hundreds of U.S. citizens passed through their line quickly.
As each person, couple, or family stood in front of a Visitors’ agent, they usually spoke for several minutes. Grim faces on both sides of the glass.
We Watched People Disappear
Eventually, an officer reconfigured the queue, splitting it into four. We were next up, and then suddenly shunted to the end of a different line. Forty-five more minutes. During that time, we watched three solo male travelers of different nationalities, traveling alone, pulled aside and quietly escorted to a separate area. Not to baggage claim. Not toward ground transportation.
Somewhere else.
"Should we take pictures?" I quietly asked my husband, scanning the cameras around us and the “No recording/camera/phones” signs. As each man was led away, the line stayed stagnant, small children began to cry, and the mood became darker and darker. My blood pressure began to rise.
I wanted to protect my fellow humans.
And… I wanted to keep my son safe. I felt split in half, as I often am, now that I am a mother: torn between being a good human and a good mother.
I don’t know who they were, those men. I don’t know what happened to them. I never will.
As we stood in the line, a flatscreen above us played a looping video of idealized Americana: hay bales, Fourth of July parades, smiling families at ice cream shops. A Native American dancer stood serenely in full Powwow garb. A Black couple closed on a home. An actual cowboy rode through the mountains.
It looked like stock footage from David Duke’s wet dream of what a civics class should look like.
Performative. Surreal. Who are you trying to convince, bro? Everything is A-OK hunky dory, don’t ask me no questions I won’t tell you no lies, friend.
We didn’t do anything wrong. We had nothing to hide. And still, we were afraid. The feeling around us was palpable.
And then, eventually, it was our turn. We were let through. No questions. Just stamps.
But we weren’t okay.
We were shaken by what we had seen. By what we knew could’ve happened.
Because This Is What 2025 Looks Like at the U.S. Border… and On U.S. Soil
We knew that in 2025, free speech isn’t always protected, and due process isn’t always guaranteed.
Green card holders have a right to a hearing, yes… but that certainly doesn’t stop ICE from detaining them. The government has the burden of proof in deportation cases, but the process itself can be traumatizing and disorienting…. If it is even followed at all.
You don’t need to be charged to be held. You don’t need to break the law to be punished.
And Section 237 of the Immigration and Nationality Act allows green card holders to be deported for:
“Moral turpitude” crimes (a vague and inconsistent standard)
Failure to update your address within a certain number of days
Even just being suspected of posing a threat to foreign policy or national security
You have rights. But exercising them doesn’t guarantee your protection.
Let’s look at the facts. Only a few cases.
Mahmoud Khalil, a Palestinian permanent resident and Columbia University student, was arrested by ICE in March and held for 104 days. His alleged offense? Participating in pro-Palestinian speech on campus.
Fabian Schmidt, a German green card holder, was detained at Boston Logan after returning from Luxembourg. He was allegedly forced to strip, undergo a cold shower, and interrogated for hours—despite decades of lawful residency.
Cliona Ward, an Irish woman and longtime permanent resident, was detained in Santa Cruz after a family trip over old traffic violations she thought were resolved.
Agustin Gentile, son of naturalized citizens and a green card holder, was detained over a misdemeanor from 2020.
137 Venezuelans, many with legal residency, were deported en masse under the Alien Enemies Act—a 1918 law revived to bypass due process.
And those are just some of the public stories.
The fear didn’t lift. And it won’t, until Trump and people like him are out of office.
The US Border (and Law) Is Now Dependent on Some Guy’s Mood Swings
In April, a new rule went into effect: permanent residents who haven’t registered with United States Citizenship and Immigration Services and submitted fingerprints must do so after staying in the U.S. for more than 30 days. They must carry proof of registration at all times or risk fines, or worse. Meanwhile, new travel bans, more aggressive screenings, and expanded U.S. Customs and Border Protection discretion mean that even the “legal” feel like they’re auditioning for their own reentry.
We weren’t afraid of the country we left. Spain was extremely welcoming, including making accommodations for traveling with a small child.
We were afraid of the country we were coming back to.
This policy normalizes the idea that legality doesn’t equal security. It teaches your family, and millions like yours, that you're only as safe as the current political mood.
Safety by selection is not safety. It’s control. It means we are not a free country: We are a country of permissions for some and punishment for others.
These things happen slowly. How many scenes have we seen on the news or social media of people being literally kidnapped in broad daylight? Transferred, without due process, to unknown places? And each time, we say, it’s not X group/person… yet. It’s like a dimming of the lights—you think you can still see. Until suddenly you can’t.
Welcome to the new show. Same as the old show. We just put up new paint.
There’s no such thing as the “right” way. You can follow the rules, and still fall into a trap. Legal residents with spotless records are being flagged and pulled into secondary inspection. People are being told to sign away their status—no hearing, no lawyer, just a moment of panic at the border and a form slid across the desk.
It’s not random. It’s policy. And it’s being used to silence specific people: Palestinians. West Africans. Iranians. Protesters. Students. People who say the wrong thing at their college or post the wrong thing on Instagram. A professor from Brown with a valid visa got deported.
That’s not a glitch. That’s a message.
The worst part? No one can tell you how to stay safe. “Wait and see” is the advice. Don’t travel. Don’t speak. Don’t wear anything that marks you as someone with opinions or as different. If you are in public, hope law enforcement isn’t having a bad day. Or hope they don’t know your name from a list you’ve never seen.
It doesn’t matter how clean your record is. People are being flagged for dismissed/expunged charges. For being gone too long. For paperwork that doesn’t match exactly. For social media posts. For art. For being visible. If you’ve ever believed in something loudly, you might already be on a watchlist.
Coming home isn’t a given. It’s a gamble.
This isn’t enforcement. It’s erosion. Of due process. Of dignity. Of trust. Of humanity.
When the vp of the U.S. says green card holders don’t have an “indefinite right” to be here (because of something they say at a protest), that’s not legal analysis. That’s a warning. That’s power being flexed. That’s your life—your mortgage, your business, your child’s school pickup—being made conditional on political convenience. A lawyer responded, “We’ve always told people if you’re not doing anything wrong you have nothing to worry about. I don’t know if that’s really necessarily the case anymore.”
At the border, there’s no judge. No jury. Just one officer, one mood, one moment.
The whims of whoever holds the keys.
You Can Love a Country and Still Be Afraid of It
Being a citizen or legal resident in this country doesn’t mean you’re safe. Women, Black people, people of color, queer folks, Native Americans (basically anyone who is not a white man) have known this for a long time. Not when your “paperwork” can be up for interpretation. Not when the rules change according to a whim (a white male whim).
Not when the person deciding your fate doesn’t have to explain themselves.
You can follow every rule and still be pulled aside for no reason, questioned for hours, have your entire life unraveled.
The lines between legal, unwanted, inconvenient, not quite right keep getting thinner. If you’re outspoken, a minority, or politically opposite to someone, it might not matter what’s in your wallet, status-wise, it might only matter what someone assumes about you.
This isn’t about security. It’s about control. About reminding us that our presence is a privilege that can be revoked.
Not by a court, but by a feeling.
Because a legal status doesn’t mean you’re protected. It means you’re visible, traceable, and one wrong word away from vanishing into a system.
This Isn’t Just About Immigrants
We didn’t take a political stand. We took a vacation. But in the current climate, we knew what we were walking back into.
Because we weren’t just a family returning from vacation. We’re a case study in how legal status no longer guarantees our safety in this country: not for immigrants, and not even for citizens or those who have followed the rules and regulations.
And certainly not for those of us who speak openly, think critically, or, for me, am a woman who speaks up about all the “wrong things.”
I have zero doubt that, even as a citizen, my stance on just about anything political would put my family at risk if push came to shove.
Because you don’t have to be undocumented to be at risk. You can be a woman. Queer. Loud. Visible. Inconvenient. Willing to speak when silence would be easier.
You can hold a passport and still be flagged. You can have a green card and still disappear.
You can be “legal” and still be a target.
Read more about the info below. Hint: We don’t look great for The Greatest Nation on Earth and the Land of the Free, etc.
Sometimes, all it takes is being in the wrong line at the wrong time.
And if that doesn’t scare you?
You’re either not paying attention… or you’ve never had to.
Legal Isn’t Safe. Silence Isn’t Security.
The rest of us? We’ve been walking with our heads on a swivel and our house keys held between our fingers since we were children.
We’ve been looking over our shoulders our entire lives, when you? You just got to come home.
And we’ve learned that in this country, legality isn’t the end of the story. It’s just the part they use to keep you obedient.
We are guarded by the moods and whims of little boys who were never told, “no.”
Well… ones who never took, “no,” as a final answer, anyway.
The rules for many of us are different, regardless of legal status, and it’s only becoming obvious to more people: speak when spoken to. Don’t volunteer anything. Wipe your phone. Share your location. Send the “I’m here/I’m home” text.
You can be a citizen. A tax paying resident. A business owner. An educator. Fuck it — you’re a person.
And, in the United States, right now, you are a renter of your rights.
And the rent is going up. The life you’ve built could become a story someone else tells about you on the news, framed by how you gave a speech or shared a post about believing in free speech or are anti-fascist.
Because you told someone, “no,” and they are being told that they should always be told, “yes.”
This isn’t just a feeling, a miasma, of fear. It’s happening every day, across the United States.
We’re being conditioned into a practice of control.
Quiet your voice. Cancel your trip. Play it safe. Don’t be seen. Don’t be inconvenient.
Be. Good.
Women, people of color, queer folks… we’ve always known that legal doesn’t mean safe.
That rights are not always real.
That we are conditionally welcome based on the value we provide.
That laws are only laws because someone wrote them down and sometimes, others agreed to enforce them.
It doesn’t mean they’re right. It doesn’t mean they’re fair. It doesn’t mean they’re just. A law doesn’t mean something is right. And being in line with the law doesn’t make a person good.
We Are Free When We Stand Together
What is good?
Dissent. Dissent is patriotic.
Telling the truth is an act of love.
Letting people know they are not alone is an act of service.
I believe in the power of our truth and resistance.
I believe in the right to speak freely.
But belief, alone, isn’t enough. We need transparency. We need action. We need people to stand up, en masse, and say, This is not right. This is not what I believe in.
We need people to pay attention and to write and speak their truth.
I write the truth of my experiences.
That’s my calling. And it’s my fucking privilege, in more ways than one.
And, this is the truth: Legal isn’t the same as safe.
I am inconvenient. I’m raising my child to believe in justice. I don’t believe in the laws or the paperwork that claim to protect us.
It’s not enough to be legal anymore.
You have to be prepared—for the moment when being legal, lucky, or quiet aren’t enough.
And, then? You have to keep telling the truth anyway.
Because in truth, we are not alone.
And in truth, we are only, and always, free.
This is a hard read because it shares truths we don't want believe💗