January has been one national tragedy after another, thanks to ICE. In 2025, more than 30 people died in their custody, but that didn’t prepare us to lose nine people to the agency in the first few weeks of this year. It’s an evil system that needs to be abolished.
Behind every number is a human being. Renée Good, a 37-year-old mother, was killed by a federal immigration agent while simply going about her day in Minneapolis. Alex Pretti, also 37, lost his life in the same city after stepping in to protect another person. The clear video evidence of the violence against their white bodies has sparked national outrage. People in Minnesota and across the nation are hitting the streets, protesting and demanding change.
And then there is the story of five-year-old Liam Conejo Ramos. ICE agents took him and his father from their home, even using the little guy as bait to try to lure his pregnant mother into custody. Now in an infamous facility in Texas, Liam’s health is deteriorating and child advocates, lawmakers, and communities across the country are taking up his cause.
These are not abstractions. These are names. These are lives. These are families.
These individual tragedies are symptoms of a much larger crisis: a federally funded immigration enforcement apparatus that attacks and disappears our community members.
We hold space for every name and every family impacted by this crisis. These are our neighbors, our classmates, our coworkers – people with stories, connections, and communities that stretch far beyond the detention walls.
Now, Congress is voting on the fiscal year 2026 Homeland Security spending bill, which proposes billions more for ICE. We cannot separate our values from the choices made in Washington. We urge you: call your senator today at 202-688-0628 and tell them that ICE has no place in our communities, and doesn’t deserve our tax dollars.
This is happening now. And what we choose to do next matters.
This isn’t abstract for many of us. We come from families shaped by migration, by colonial borders, by systems that decided who gets to belong and who doesn’t. We have spent our lives watching how easily people like us can be turned into problems instead of neighbors.
At Latina Media Co, we tell Latina stories because we know what happens when they are erased. We know how quickly silence becomes permission. We will not be silent in the face of the ICE tragedy machine. This is why this moment hurts, and why it demands more than outrage. It demands that we show up for one another, loudly and together.
