When I decided to visit an ICE detention center and meet some of the people who were held there, I didn’t expect to be afraid when the time came, but I was.
Maybe it was the ICE detention center’s location down a narrow road surrounded by thick Florida Everglades vegetation. Maybe it was all the security precautions at the gate, where my spouse and I were checked off a list and issued photo name badges. It surely wasn’t the staff, who were almost invariably not just professional but welcoming. Maybe it was being divested of almost everything material I usually keep safe and close – like the phone that connects me to everyone I love, my purse with the means of buying my way out of trouble. Both were locked in the trunk. All I was allowed to take inside was my driver’s license and the car key, and the car key had to be locked up once we got into the lobby. We didn’t have the quarter for the locker, so the guard said “Just put it in there. I’m right here so nobody’s going to take anything.”
Brrrrr….
Part of what scared me was the chill. It was freezing and blowing, just as we hear it is for the children and adults we read about. The lobby was spacious and bright, with windows all along one side. It was immaculately clean. The furnishings were relatively humane, with chairs in slightly curved groupings rather than straight lines. I’ve been through more intimidating security at the airport. But viscerally, it unsettled me. I learned to walk up and down to stay a little warmer, and discovered a portrait of Trump with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. It did not reassure me. The Friends of Miami-Dade Detainees, who kindly arranged our visits, had done a great job of briefing us, so we knew what to expect at the ICE detention center. But the dread I felt was deeper than all those rational reassurances.
Even though we were accompanied by a friendly female guard when our names were called, I felt closed in when we came into a small anteroom where the door to the lobby behind us was locked, and the door to the corridor ahead of us was unlocked. A long walk down that corridor, in single file. Another locked door, another corridor, and then a row of badly lit booths stretched off to our left. The guard showed me where to sit, opposite a guy in an orange uniform with earnest dark eyes. Dirty glass sliced the space between us, and we each picked up an ancient black telephone receiver. We each said our names.
All of a sudden, I relaxed. Here was the man I’d been wanting to meet: not a statistic, not a news headline, not a “detainee,” but another human being who wanted to talk with me as much as I wanted to talk with him. Immediately, I warmed to him. His face was uneasy but open as he taught me to say his name correctly at my request. “I wish we’d met in other circumstances,” I said, “It would have been nice to just sit and have a cup of coffee together. But I guess we can’t do that today.” We both laughed ruefully. Then he began talking, and more or less didn’t stop until the guard told us the hour was up. I learned about what brought him to the U.S. as a child, what he faced in school, and how he “made a mistake” that brought him to the ICE detention center. And I learned about his aspirations for the future, if he could just go home to the state where he was brought up.
Our Surprising Conversations
Over the next three days, as I visited seven other English speakers, I spent most of my time waiting in the chilly lobby, and thinking about what I had heard. Some stories were as terrible as I had feared. I kept my composure, but seeing the tears of one man who didn’t have the money for a video call with his young child almost undid me. Fortunately, thanks to the fundraising of the Friends of Miami-Dade Detainees, I could offer a solution for that. A few men were almost crushed by fear and despair, and no wonder. But the majority, to my astonishment, were still able to smile and engage with a stranger. They were curious about the world (“Is the climate really changing?”) and engaged in reading (mostly self help books and literature), with some writing poems and memoirs. Nearly all had goals and dreams for the future, and almost all had deep ties to family and friends to whom they longed to return from the ICE detention center.
Why were they there?
Apart from the specifics of each person’s situation, these visits were a stark reminder for me about what it means to be a brown or black male in the United States, and how racism plays out in individual lives. The meager choices. The pressure to join any group that gives any coherence or protection. The appeal of the escape of alcohol or other drugs. The assumption that you are or will be a criminal. The expectation that you will never go to college or make something of yourself. Some had succumbed to the temptations or necessities (depending on one’s world view) presented by their status in a racist society. Some had not; they were wrongfully convicted, or took plea deals for crimes they didn’t commit rather than risk a jury trial. Others were there by accident: a negligent or malicious family member had not done the proper paperwork at the proper time, for example. One was too law-abiding, rounded up and sent to the ICE detention center when he reported for a check-in instead of disappearing as he could so easily have done. Some were interested in me and my life; others just needed to talk.
After my first visit, I can’t say that my queasiness about the whole situation went away, but I wasn’t afraid any more. After all, I had a friend inside.
Actions you and I can take:
Please donate to the Friends of Miami-Dade Detainees here. FOMDD uses the funds to provide phone cards so the people inside can talk to their families and friends, and to send a book of the person’s choice. They also organize pro bono lawyers to help assess each person’s situation and find the appropriate longer term representation.
Locate your nearest ICE detention center or equivalent. Many people in immigration detention are held in local facilities, even hospitals. Scroll down to “Active ICE Facilities” on this page.
See if there is already a visitation program that you can hook up with here.
If there isn’t, start one; here’s a complete guide to how you can proceed. Any community group is entitled to ask.
Don’t let the people in immigration detention disappear. Think about them, talk about them, write to them, remind our politicians of them, and visit them.
This is all so big, so horrifying, and yet you’ve made this journey personal, intimate, and offered suggestions as well. Here’s hoping that humanity is restored and that the leadership of our nation changes so this national shame comes to an end.
Thanks, Betsy. You are one of the most socially conscious writers I know, so your kind words mean a lot to me.
Amazing experience Mary! Thanks for sharing your thoughts and the additional information. You continue to guide and inspire!
How wonderful to hear from you! I hope your own writing continues to prosper. I’ll always remember your memoir about being a stepmom. It makes it all so real.
A very heart-felt and informative essay. I’ve found one place not too far from me that I am investigating.
How kind of you to make these visits. I know you made a difference for each person. Your detailed descriptions of real situations these detainees find themselves in is frightening. You were very brave to do this. The “chill” surprised me, I could almost feel it. Thank you for the suggestions. I didn’t know that individuals could actually help.
Thank you so much, Eileen, for reading and responding. I’m such an admirer of your first-person account of your time teaching in the African American community in Louisiana, Freedom Lessons, and I feel that you’d recognize a lot of the patterns I saw in my visits in terms of the oppression of racism.
Thank you so much Mary for being there for people who so desperately need it. Also for sharing your experiences. I hope to spend some time in Brownsville, Texas in the future working in the detention center there. Your words are powerful and open a door to those of us that have not had the opportunity to directly witness these atrocities. You are giving faces, words, and voices to those that have been robbed of that chance. It is important work and so glad you are on the front lines…
Iris, I appreciate your reading this with your careful eye. Let’s coordinate doing something in Brownsville together; I had originally wanted to go there but it didn’t work out. Maybe you have found Team Brownsville which does great work. I’ll be happy to consider it after the election is done. So glad we are in this together.
Mary, this is a very meaningful piece. Thanks so much for writing this and also informing the rest of us about how we can get involved directly. Donating money to the very important organizations that are helping detainees get legal help and even putting up bonds where possible are some of the solutions, but your involvement face to face feels miraculous.
Thanks. I really feel that I gained much more than I gave, and I do plan to be involved at the facility in NH when I am home in Vermont later this year. Donating just didn’t feel like enough to me — especially since my tax dollars are funding these things that I oppose. I appreciate your support.
Thank you, Mary, for visiting, for sharing your experience, and for encouraging others to get involved. I cannot believe this is happening in our country. This is a topic very close to my heart, and I appreciate all you are doing!
Deborah, many thanks for your concern. I feel the same sense of disbelief — and while Trump has made the situation infinitely worse, it did begin to deteriorate under Obama, so this is not entirely a partisan issue.
Mary, thank you for sharing your experience so vividly and eloquently. And for sharing the resources that can help us take action, too. We can’t let these people or these places remain hidden, or forgotten.
Thanks, Mary. Your commitment to social justice keeps on inspiring me. I will plan a way to visit one of these detention centers. My friends in VA tutor detained children each week and have also found it a profound experience getting to know the children , their stories and dreams.
Let’s by all means visit the NH ICE facility together when I get back. I’m sure we will learn a lot. What a wonderful commitment your friends are making to those kids. It must be a lifeline to them.
Wonderful post Mary!
Thanks, Jeanne! Your support is valuable to me.
Thanks for the first person account. As your journey continues, I’d love to learn more about the the length of incarceration periods and the fishing line tangle of bureaucracy that detainees may face. The whole situation feels kafkaesque.
Kafka is right. The person I met who had been there the longest was there for more than two years. Even when they “win” in court, the government appeals and there is even more delay. Let’s hope that with a change of administration we can make a real difference.
Oh Mary… this is so heartbreaking, but also so inspiring… thank you….
It’s wonderful to hear from someone who so deeply shares my commitment to social justice.
Thank you Mary for being a voice for the voiceless. For showing up and caring and giving of your self and resources to bring a sliver of humanity in this horrible climate. I am so sickened by all of this.
Dearest Lisha, Your poems always give voice to the voiceless. I am so proud of your work to defend people who are put through so much unnecessary stuff, and help them start businesses and get along in life. Keep it up.
Mary, thank you for sharing this experience- literally and metaphorically chilling! physically and emotionally. Its is so important to share this knowledge of what is happening and hidden in plain sight, to erode our rights as citizens and our sense of togetherness. Your words show that a`against all the odds, we can and nourish our connections and capaicty to speak our own truths.
Margaret, I have always admired your absolute commitment to social justice, and the work you are doing now to expose the impact of Brexit on women in particular is so important. Thanks for nourishing our connection and so many others.
Thank you, Mary, for sharing your ICE experience so eloquently! My husband and I visited an ICE detention center here in the Pacific NW, a dismal experience even under the Obama administration. The cruel injustice non-citizens are faced with in this country predates the present administration and it will be with us even after we vote Trump out, unless we bring about
radical change!
Absolutely, Laureen. This kind of prejudice against immigrants predates Trump, as do the raids for example — although the draconian policies reducing the refugee quotas, separating families in the particular way he has, and persecuting asylum seekers are mostly his work. We have work to do even if the election goes our way.
Hi Mary – You did a great job of conveying your experience to us and the utter punitive waste of human potential and happiness in these places of despair. Thankyou for doing this. In my previous professional life I visited many detention centres in the UK and Canada to meet with unaccompanied children in detention. These places were ,without exception, dire environments on all levels. Thank heavens for all the detention centre visitors! I belong to a group in southern Quebec (Bridges Not Borders) that goes to Roxham Road, NYS to greet refugees crossing irregularly into Canada and to give hugs and warm clothes. A group called Plattsburgh Cares do this most of the other days of the week. We see people who are scared and vulnerable knowing they will be arrested by police officers on the other side of the border and scared about police abuse. They are briefly with police and then are taken to an immigration post for further processes. The great majority are held for not more than 24 hours and a small percentage end up in detention. The numbers of asylum seekers and migrants in detention in Canada is small compared to the US, but it’s still an egregious practice to put people who may have been persecuted and experienced trauma in jail. We are also concerned about the people who, because of the Safe Third Country Agreement between Canada and the USA, are refused entrance into Canada at the official ports of entry . They are sent back to the USA and likely end up in detention and then are at serious risk of being sent back to their home country where their lives may be at risk…Most recently I saw a Human Rights Watch report that said over 200 people had been killed (138) or tortured (70) from 2013-2019 after being sent back to El Salvador from the USA. Thanks again Mary for your efforts and perhaps we might meet when our mutual friend Margaret comes for a visit!
Wendy, I am aware of the wonderful work you and others are doing on the Quebec side of the border. Thank you so much for this substantive response by someone who has been committed for a very long time. I hope to see you in the fall or even before and learn more. Many thanks for your longstanding work on this issue and many others.
Mary, this is beautiful. Thank you for writing about your experience, and also sharing resources.
Bella, Thanks for reading and commenting. I know your own writing is of such a high standard, and I appreciate your kind words. Mary