Mikie Sherrill se encuentra en una misión: cumplir el mandato de ICE.

El 29 de mayo, aproximadamente a las 9:40 p. m., desde el lado norte de Doremus Avenue, la Policía Estatal de Nueva Jersey comunicó a las pocas personas que allí se congregaban que los manifestantes tenían 15 minutos para despejar la zona y desplazarse hacia el sur, o atenerse a las consecuencias. No se especificó con claridad a dónde exactamente se suponía que debían dirigirse todos para que se considerara que habían acatado la orden.

Se desató un caos ordenado a medida que la gente difundía el anuncio. Grupos de voluntarios comenzaron a transportar todos los suministros donados tan rápido como les fue posible, llevando incluso las carpas hacia el otro lado de la carretera, lejos del campo de concentración. Afortunadamente, al parecer los participantes lograron retirar todo lo que se encontraba en el exterior.

Pronto todos conocerán la cronología de esta parte de los hechos, por lo que no entraré en demasiados detalles sobre la terrible experiencia. Transcurrieron los quince minutos y, al fondo, aparecieron pelotones de agentes equipados con indumentaria antidisturbios. En formación, empujaron a los manifestantes y ejercieron presión al rit de «MOVE-BACK!» (¡RETROCEDAN!). Estallaron botes de gas lacrimógeno junto a nosotros y los caballos casi nos atropellaron. Varias personas a mi lado recibieron impactos de balas de goma. La gente retrocedió detrás de la primera línea mientras los agentes de ICE, apostados en el portón sur, disparaban proyectiles de gas por detrás de todos, cubriendo a la multitud entera con las sustancias químicas. Una vez que la policía terminó de empujar a la gente fuera del perímetro de las instalaciones, esperaron unos minutos y lanzaron una ensordecedora ráfaga de botes antes de retirarse. Se pueden encontrar más detalles en la transmisión en vivo que grabé para Radio Jornalera NJ.

Los funcionarios electos van y vienen por Delaney Hall: congresistas, el alcalde y, el lunes 25, la gobernadora.

Pero la visita de Sherrill me llamó la atención de manera particular. Llegó al mediodía, se acercó al portón, golpeó la cerca, conversó con algunas familias —sus fotógrafos felices de la vida— e intentó disimular su molestia cuando los organizadores la cuestionaron por su presencia, la cual llegaba con tres días de retraso. Había estado ocupada durante el fin de semana promocionando el «Jersey Summer» (Verano en Jersey) de cara al Mundial.

Cuando terminó de escuchar a la gente, se marchó. Nunca había visto a un político con la habilidad de salir disparado con tanta rapidez.

Aquello dejó un mal sabor de boca a todos, pero, a fin de cuentas, tendría que volver, ¿verdad? Después de todo, la primera exigencia de los huelguistas de hambre es verla.

Pero el 29 de mayo, ella sí se hizo presente. En espíritu.

Más temprano esa tarde, tuvimos que pasar por la Doremus Avenue. La Policía Estatal de Nueva Jersey estaba verificando las identificaciones y impidiendo el paso a varios manifestantes, quienes tuvieron que estacionarse en otras calles y caminar varios minutos hasta llegar a las afueras del campo de concentración.

Aproximadamente a esa hora, la gobernadora concluyó una conferencia de prensa sobre las protestas en Delaney Hall. No solo omitió la huelga de hambre, sino que también declaró lo siguiente:

La incertidumbre se apoderó del ambiente entre quienes se encontraban allí, sobre el terreno.

Mientras yo estaba allí, la relativa calma de la tarde se vio interrumpida por la imagen de periodistas y algunos manifestantes corriendo hacia el lado norte de Delaney. La Oficina de Gestión de Emergencias y Seguridad Nacional (OEM) y la Policía Estatal de Nueva Jersey se encontraban en el lugar. Los trabajadores de la OEM llegaron en un camión cargado de bloques de hormigón. Otro grupo ponía vallas naranjas, bloqueando la avenida y creando dos áreas cercadas: una frente al muro, en medio de las instalaciones, y otra frente a un almacén situado fuera del perímetro. Parecía que nuestra gobernadora no quería, bajo ningún concepto, que los manifestantes se situaran frente a los portones.

Entonces, sucedió: a las 7 p. m., un mensaje proveniente de un megáfono policial resonó desde el lado sur: «Necesitamos que se trasladen a la zona designada para el ejercicio de la Primera Enmienda». Una sombría contradicción.

Como respuesta, los manifestantes se sentaron pacíficamente frente a la entrada sur de Delaney, y fue entonces cuando todo cobró sentido: el desenlace de la jornada quedó sellado en ese preciso instante. Simplemente lo supe. Se lo comenté a algunas personas de mi confianza, pero lamento profundamente no haberlo gritado a los cuatro vientos en aquel momento. Todo lo siguiente terminó sucediendo tal cual.

Verán, Mikie Sherrill parece ser del tipo pragmático; así que hablemos con pragmatismo por un segundo, como si fuéramos sus estrategas. Había dos opciones:

1. La Policía Estatal se retira: una imagen perjudicial para la autoridad del gobierno estatal y un motivo para que la administración Trump la tilde de débil y rebelde.

2. La Policía Estatal actúa: una imagen perjudicial para la autoridad del gobierno estatal y un motivo para que las organizaciones de base la tilden de abusiva e hipócrita.

Un estratega del bando gubernamental habría elegido la opción 2: ¡se acerca la Copa del Mundo y las autoridades federales amenazan con cerrar el aeropuerto de Newark! De ninguna manera la gobernadora sacrificaría el auge turístico —y su propia soberanía— ante las exigencias de un molesto grupo de inmigrantes. ¿Qué son unas familias desesperadas por el bienestar de sus seres queridos detenidos en comparación con las implacables maravillas de la *realpolitik*?

Así es como me lo imagino: Mikie Sherrill se sentó en su escritorio en la sede del gobierno estatal. Con rostro serio, se reunió con el superintendente de la Policía Estatal. Tomó una decisión, se despidió de él y luego —suponiendo que tenga conciencia— se quedó sentada a solas en su despacho. Quizás miró fijamente a la pared durante un minuto para repasar mentalmente todo lo sucedido. ¿Tragó saliva al pensar en las consecuencias? No importa. Tomó una decisión consciente y calculada, y más tarde se fue a ver a sus hijos, mientras a otros los gaseaban y les disparaban.

Este artículo se publica en la madrugada del 30 de mayo, antes de que todos veamos qué aspecto tendrá su declaración. Desearía poder decir que no dedicaré demasiado tiempo a leerla, pero también estoy seguro de que la suerte ya está echada, y todas las caras de los dados son idénticas: ha sacrificado su reputación en su apoyo a la migra.

Me doy cuenta de que hay algo que me aterra más que las explosiones a mi lado: la indiferencia. Ahora, imaginen esa indiferencia convertida en una directiva. Ahí tienen a su gobernadora, Nueva Jersey. Ahí tienen a su santa demócrata.

Adelante, Mikie Sherrill; toma la calculada decisión de dejar que se seque la sangre que tienes en las manos. Siento pena por ti, y sentiré pena por tus defensores, hoy y mañana.

Mikie Sherrill’s on a mission: to do ICE’s bidding.

On May 29, at approximately 9:40 pm, from the north side of Doremus Avenue, New Jersey State Police told the few who were congregating there that protesters had 15 minutes to clear the area and move south, or else. No clear specification of where exactly everyone was supposed to go before they were considered to have complied.

Orderly chaos ensued as people spread the announcement. Groups of volunteers started carrying all the donated supplies as quickly as possible, even taking canopies to the other side of the road, away from the concentration camp. Thankfully, it seemed that the participants moved everything found outside.

Soon everyone will know this part’s timeline, so I will not go into too much detail about the ordeal. Fifteen minutes passed, and platoons of officers in riot gear appeared in the background. In formation, they pushed protesters and pressed at the beat of “MOVE-BACK!” Tear gas cans exploded next to us, and horses almost trampled us. People next to me were hit with rubber bullets. People retreated behind the front line while ICE agents at the south gate shot tear gas bullets behind everyone, covering the entire crowd with the chemicals. When police were done pushing outside the facility’s perimeter, they waited for a few minutes and threw a deafening flurry of canisters before retreating. More details can be found in the livestream I recorded at Radio Jornalera NJ.

Elected officials at Delaney Hall come and go—Congresspeople, the mayor, and, back on Monday 25, the Governor.

But Sherrill’s visit really stuck out to me. She arrived at noon, approached the gate, knocked on a fence, spoke with a few families—her photographers having the time of their lives—and tried to hide her annoyance when organizers questioned her about her 3-day-late presence. She was busy during the weekend advertising Jersey Summer ahead of the World Cup.

When she was done hearing people, she walked out. I never saw a politician with the skill to bolt out that fast.

It left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth, but eventually she’d have to come back, right? The first demand of the hunger strikers is to see her, after all.

But on May 29, she did show up. In spirit.

Earlier in the afternoon, we had to get on Doremus Avenue. State Police were checking ID’s and turning away several protesters, who had to park on other roads and walk several minutes to the outside of the concentration camp.

At around that time, the Governor finished a press conference about the protests at Delaney Hall. Not only did she fail to address the hunger strike, but she also stated the following:

Uncertainty filled the air among those on the ground.

While I was there, the afternoon’s relative calm was interrupted by the sight of journalists and some protesters rushing towards the north side of Delaney. The Office of Emergency Management and Homeland Security (OEM) and the New Jersey State Police were there. OEM workers arrived in a truck carrying concrete blocks. Another group started placing orange fences, blocking the avenue and creating two fenced areas: one in front of the wall in the middle of the facility, and one in front of a warehouse outside the perimeter. It looked like our Governor did not want the protesters to stand outside of the gates at all.

Then, it happened: At 7 p.m., a message from a police megaphone came from the south side: “We need you to relocate to the designated First Amendment zone.” Grim oxymoron.

Protesters peacefully sat down in front of Delaney’s south entrance as a response, and that’s when it clicked: the outcome of the day was decided at that point. I just knew it. I told a few trusted people about it, but I awfully regret not shouting it from the rooftops at the time. Everything afterwards ended up happening.

See, Mikie Sherrill appears to be the pragmatic type, so let’s talk pragmatically for a second, as if we were her strategists. There were two options:

1. The State Police retreats; a bad look on the state government’s authority, and a cause for the Trump administration to deride her as weak and rebellious.

2. The State Police acts; a bad look on the state government’s authority, and a cause for grassroots organizations to deride her as abusive and hypocritical.

A strategist on the government’s side would’ve chosen option 2 — the World Cup approaches and the feds are threatening to close the Newark airport! There is no way the Governor would sacrifice the touristic boon and her sovereignty for the demands of a pesky group of immigrants. What are families desperate for their detained loved ones’ well-being compared to the no-nonsense wonders of realpolitik?

Here’s how I imagine it: Mikie Sherrill sat down at her desk at the Statehouse. With a straight face, she met with the State Police Superintendent. She made a decision, dismissed him, and then, assuming she has a conscience, sat alone in her office. Maybe she stared at the wall for a minute to recap everything in her mind. Did she swallow saliva at the thought of the consequences? Doesn’t matter. She made a conscious, calculated decision, and later went on to see her kids while people were being gassed and shot.

This article is being published early on the morning of May 30, before we all see what her statement will look like. I wish I could say that I won’t spend too much time reading it, but I’m also sure that the die has already been cast, and its faces are all the same: she’s sacrificed her reputation for ICE.

I realize that there is something that scares me more than explosions next to me: indifference. Now, imagine indifference turned into a directive. There is your governor, New Jersey. There is your saint of a Democrat.

Go ahead, Mikie Sherrill, and make the calculated decision to let the blood on your hands dry out. I feel pity for you, and I will feel pity for your defenders today and tomorrow.

El ICE es el único responsable de la escalada de violencia que ha dejado a varias personas heridas, tanto dentro como fuera del recinto, a lo largo de esta semana. Aconsejamos a la prensa que evite utilizar un lenguaje que se alinee con la narrativa promovida por el Departamento de Seguridad Nacional: aquella que sostiene que los agentes actúan en defensa propia. La naturaleza unilateral de esta violencia constituye la perspectiva objetiva de los hechos.

Los informes de los observadores y organizadores presentes en el terreno esta semana detallan otros actos de represión cometidos por los agentes del ICE:

-Empujar a los manifestantes hacia la pista: Cada vez que los agentes del ICE despejan la entrada del centro de detención, fuerzan y empujan a los manifestantes no violentos desde la acera hacia la carretera. Doremus Avenue es una vía de gran actividad, por la que transitan numerosos camiones de carga pesada. En una ocasión, la noche del miércoles 24, la pierna de un participante quedó atrapada bajo la rueda de un camión. A medida que aumentan las tensiones, nos preocupa que puedan producirse consecuencias aún más graves.

-Uso indiscriminado de gases lacrimógenos: Sin provocación alguna, los agentes del ICE han utilizado diversas formas de gases lacrimógenos contra los manifestantes; un ejemplo notorio fue el episodio en el que el senador Andy Kim (D-NJ) y la multitud fueron rociados con dichos gases. Se han registrado varios ejemplos adicionales cada vez que los agentes del ICE empujan a los manifestantes hacia la calzada.

-Agresiones con porras contra la prensa y participantes no violentos: El lunes 22, un agente intentó golpear en la cabeza a un reportero del medio independiente Radio Cosecha; sin embargo, terminó golpeándole la mano, ya que el reportero interpuso el brazo para bloquear el impacto. Unas imágenes grabadas la noche del miércoles 27 muestran a un agente golpeando las rodillas de un manifestante que se encontraba con los brazos entrelazados junto a otros participantes.

-Detenciones de voluntarios pacíficos: La mañana del martes 23, un observador fue detenido por los agentes. Esa misma noche, en medio de los ataques perpetrados por los agentes, un voluntario médico fue derribado y detenido. Los paramédicos que se encuentran fuera del centro llevan cruces rojas para indicar su función, y no participan en las acciones de protesta no violenta; simplemente permanecen junto a la multitud para atender a los participantes.

Esta violencia es también un reflejo de las condiciones que se viven dentro del centro, las cuales afectan tanto a los detenidos como a sus familias. Resistencia en Acción está colaborando estrechamente con la familia de Jorge Raymundo —un jornalero que se encuentra detenido— para brindarles asistencia legal y recursos que les ayuden a salir adelante. Su página de GoFundMe se encuentra aquí: https://gofund.me/8505d00d6

ICE is the sole responsible actor for the escalation that has led to several wounded people inside and outside this week. We advise the press to avoid using language that joins the narrative espoused by the Department of Homeland Security: that agents are acting in self-defense. The one-sidedness of this violence is the objective viewpoint.

Reports from observers and organizers on the ground this week outline other acts of repression by ICE agents:

• Pushing protesters onto the road: Every time ICE agents clear the entrance to the detention center, agents force and shove non-violent protesters from the sidewalk to the road. Doremus Avenue is a highly active road, with several heavy load trucks passing. On one occasion, on the night of Wednesday 24, a participant’s leg was caught under a truck’s wheel. As tensions escalate, we are concerned that worse outcomes may occur.

• Indiscriminate use of tear gases: Without provocation, ICE agents have used different forms of tear gas on protesters, a notable example being the episode where Sen. Andy Kim (D-NJ) and the crowd were sprayed. Several other examples follow whenever ICE agents push protesters onto the road.

• Assault with batons on press, non-violent participants: On Monday 22, an agent attempted to strike a reporter from independent outlet Radio Cosecha in the head, instead hitting his hand as he blocked the hit. Footage from the night of Wednesday 27 shows an agent striking at the knees of a protester who was locking arms with other participants.

• Arrests performed on peaceful volunteers: On the morning of Tuesday 23, an observer was detained by agents. At night, amidst attacks by agents, a volunteer medic was tackled and detained. Medics outside the facility wear red crosses to announce their role, and do not participate in non-violent disruption, only standing by the crowd to treat participants.

This violence is also reflective of the conditions inside the facility, affecting detainees and their families. Resistencia en Acción is working closely with the family of detained day laborer Jorge Raymundo to assist them legally and with resources to help them stay afloat. Their GoFundMe page can be found here: https://gofund.me/8505d00d6

He estado en Delaney en varias ocasiones para entrevistar a personas y ser testigo de todo lo que está ocurriendo en 2025. Ha habido mucho que ver en el lugar: sacerdotes maltratados, colegas arrestados, un alcalde detenido, tres congresistas agredidos y un levantamiento en el interior, sobre el cual estoy escribiendo unas memorias sobre las protestas de afuera. Estoy cualificado para hablar de la experiencia vivida sobre el terreno a las afueras de Delaney; así que, a aquellos que solo han visto Delaney Hall desde detrás de una pantalla, permítanme ofrecerles la descripción más breve posible: este campo de concentración es la imagen más repugnante de Nueva Jersey.

Este engranaje de la maquinaria de detención y deportación se encuentra en uno de los lugares más contaminados del estado; sin embargo, ni siquiera hace falta leer estudios para saberlo: basta con percibir de inmediato el olor a basura quemada que emana de las plantas industriales situadas al otro lado de la carretera. Si a eso le sumamos el clima húmedo y caluroso propio de la estación, uno no sabría decir qué es peor: si el escozor en los ojos o la dificultad para respirar. Filas de familias se congregan en cada jornada de visitas —establecida de manera totalmente arbitraria—, soportando el infierno durante horas con la esperanza, a menudo negada, de ver a sus seres queridos. A quienes se encuentran atrapados allí se les sigue sirviendo, hasta el día de hoy, agua de olor nauseabundo y comida insuficiente y en mal estado. Las innumerables atrocidades que aquí se cometen son el pan de cada día, y estoy convencido de que los agentes que operan en su interior son humanos solo en apariencia. Han vendido sus almas a cambio de una placa federal.

Por consiguiente, una huelga de hambre protagonizada por trescientas personas dentro de las instalaciones, iniciada el viernes 22 de mayo, es exactamente lo que cabría esperar de una comunidad de individuos cuyo anhelo es la liberación. ¿Qué otra cosa podrían aquellos que se encuentran en una situación tan desesperada?

Cuando veo que meten a personas con cáncer sin acceso a su medicación durante semanas, entiendo que este acto es una cuestión de supervivencia. Un acto de protesta como este nace de un profundo amor, no solo hacia uno mismo, sino también hacia sus nuevos hermanos y hermanas, detenidos y maltratados por el simple hecho de haber llegado a este país con el fin de darle algo de comer a sus seres queridos.

Cabe destacar que estas personas no están en huelga para exigir mejores condiciones dentro del campo. Cualquiera que pretenda convencerles de que la situación se resolvería ofreciéndoles un salario más alto o mejores camas para dormir —al igual que aquellos que, en otras ocasiones, sostienen que lo que necesitamos son agentes mejor entrenados— no tiene la menor idea de cuál es la realidad.

Quieren libertad.

Inmediatamente después de que se anunciara la huelga de hambre, cientos de personas se congregaron a las afueras del recinto para expresar su solidaridad. Quienes se encuentran dentro siguen respondiendo a sus consignas con saludos y encendiendo y apagando las luces de sus habitaciones. Al ver el video, tuve que tomarme un momento para recomponerme a lo que un recuerdo me golpeaba de lleno.

El año pasado, durante una manifestación, un hombre se me acercó. —¿Por qué están protestando ustedes?

Yo estaba listo para recitar mi discurso: —Estamos protestando frente a Delaney Hall para exigir su cierre…

—Está bien, pero ¿por qué protestan? ¿De qué sirve protestar?

—Protestar ejerce presión sobre los funcionarios electos para que tomen medidas.

El hombre no estuvo de acuerdo. Dijo que había formas más eficaces de hacer las cosas, así que me preguntó de nuevo: —¿Por qué protestan?

Había otra razón.

—También lo hacemos para que quienes están dentro puedan oírnos, para que sepan que no están solos en esto.

El hombre, satisfecho, me dejó continuar con mi día; sin embargo, esa conversación se me quedó grabada hasta el día de hoy. Pero, ¿qué tan seguro estaba yo de que pudieran oírnos? Desde que empezamos a protestar, siempre tuve la esperanza de que quienes estaban dentro pudieran escuchar, pero la forma en que han reconocido el ruido del exterior del recinto durante estas últimas noches me ha dado, por fin, la respuesta definitiva.

Pueden oírnos, y debemos alzar la voz por ellos. Ninguna cantidad de gas pimienta podrá jamás acabar con la esperanza de que, algún día, quienes se encuentran en el interior vean cumplido su deseo más humano: respirar el mismo aire que sus seres queridos en sus propios hogares. Ninguna cantidad de gas lacrimógeno nos impedirá empoderarlos, asegurándoles que, un día, el sol brillará sobre sus rostros.

Necesitamos que la gobernadora Mikie Sherrill y todos los funcionarios electos se presenten y se sumen a nuestras exigencias de cerrar este lugar para siempre. Si lo hacen —y cuando lo hagan—, si no logran entrar, más les vale llevar altavoces para poder enviar un mensaje a quienes están dentro, porque sí pueden oír.

Los llamados de auxilio de nuestra gente tampoco quedarán jamás sin ser escuchados. Libérenlos a todos.

I’ve been at Delaney several times to interview people and bear witness to everything happening in 2025. There’s been much to see at the site: priests being manhandled, colleagues arrested, a mayor arrested, three congresspeople assaulted, and an uprising inside, of which I am writing a memoir about the unrest outside. I am qualified to talk about the boots-on-the-ground experience, so to those who have only seen Delaney Hall from behind a screen, let me give you the shortest description possible: this concentration camp is the most repulsive sight in New Jersey.

This gear of the detention and deportation machine is in one of the most contaminated places of the state, but you don’t even need to look at studies to know that—you can immediately tell from the smell of burning trash coming from the industrial plants across the road. Mix that with the hot and humid weather of the season, and you won’t tell whether your burning eyes or your difficulty breathing is worse. Lines of families gather every arbitrarily set visiting day, withstanding hell for hours for an often denied chance to see their loved ones. Those trapped in there to this day are served foul smelling water and spoiled, insufficient food. The countless atrocities that happen here are bread and butter, and I’m convinced that the agents inside are human only in appearance. They have sold their souls for a fed badge.

So, a three hundred person hunger strike inside the facility since Friday, May 22, is what everyone should expect from a community inclined towards liberation. What else can people in such a dire situation do?

When I see that people with cancer are put inside without access to medication for weeks, I understand that this is for their survival. A desperate act of protest like this comes from a place of love for not just yourself, but for your newly found siblings, detained and abused just for coming to this country to feed their loved ones.

Please note that these people are not striking for better conditions at the camp. Anyone telling you that the situation is fixed by giving them a higher wage or better beds to sleep on, much like those who, on other occasions, claim that we need better trained ICE agents, has no idea of the situation on the ground.

These people want freedom.

Immediately after the hunger strike was announced, hundreds of people showed up outside the facility to express their solidarity. Those inside keep replying to their chants with waves and the flickering of their rooms’ lights. When I watched the video, I had to take a moment to recompose myself as a memory hit me in the face.

Last year at a rally, a man approached me. “What are you guys protesting about?”

I was ready to give my pitch: “We are protesting outside to demand that Delaney Hall closes. . .”

“Okay, but why are you protesting? What does protesting do?”

“Protesting applies pressure on elected officials so they can take action.”

The man disagreed. He said there were more effective ways to do things, so he asked me again: “Why are you protesting?”

There was another reason.

“We also do it so that those inside can hear us, so they know they aren’t alone in this.”

The man, now satisfied, let me continue with my day, but the conversation stuck with me to this day. How sure was I that they could hear us, though? Since we started protesting, I always hoped that those inside could hear, and their acknowledgement of the noise outside the facility these past few nights just gave me the final answer.

They can hear us, and we must be loud for them. No amount of pepper spray will ever kill the hope that those inside will one day see their most human wish come to fruition: to breathe the same air as their loved ones in their homes. No amount of tear gas will stop us from empowering them, assuring them that the sun will shine on their faces one day.

We need Governor Mikie Sherill and every elected official to show up and join our demands to close this place for good. If and when they do, they should bring speakers so they can send a message to those inside, because they can hear.

Our people’s distress calls won’t go unheard, either. Free them all.

The draft of the ordinance still needs to be published, and we will pay close attention to its details. Based on the intention of these policies, though, we must take a stance on any possible regulations that aim to curb the exercise of our freedom of assembly.

One concerning point that was reportedly discussed is the 48-hour window for spontaneous protests without blocking streets. For a small town like Princeton, the places to assemble are already few. If something terrible like a local raid were to happen, and we were to call for a protest with people in the narrow sidewalks of Witherspoon Street, this would defeat the main purpose of a protest: to be visible.

On that same note, we outright reject any proposal that would confine protests to “designated places,” as if we were meant to be kept behind a window like caged pets in a shop. The people in our community are already deprived of their dignity by those who see us as poor souls to be saved, or worse. Policies signaling to “designated places” would be harmful to the struggle of immigrant workers who deserve to be heard everywhere.

Additionally, we are concerned about the mention of charging fees beyond a permit fee. In reference to staffing fees, does this mean that we have to pay Princeton police to protest? Under what guidelines would cleanup and lost parking fees be charged? We do not need to pay police to show up at our protests when officers already perform their work with our taxes. The potential for vagueness is also too great for regulations like these to be practical, and we would doubt their constitutionality.

Our Executive Director Ana Paola Pazmiño is clear on the freedom to protest: ”Any effort to restrict that would be a betrayal of our values,” she states. Restrictions on protests belong to an authoritarian government like this administration’s, not to a municipality that claims to advance progressive values.

There are plenty of good reasons why there may be more mobilizations in Princeton this year: abductions, war, and the economic downturn that plagues every family in our neighborhoods. The only way for these protests and rallies to slow down is not by restricting the places and time ranges of these actions, but by enacting meaningful policies that protect our communities, including immigrants. In most cases, this may go beyond the municipality’s jurisdiction, but the least that our local authorities could do, in that case, is to keep allowing us to manifest our opposition to the current federal administration and the destructive effects of their policies. The Princeton council should recognize that, instead of presenting a draft that could stain our freedom of speech.

These remarks came during an interview in which a journalist asked Murphy about criticism he had received from President Trump. In a moment when he could have drawn a sharp moral contrast, the Governor instead aligned himself with Trump, saying: “He shouldn’t have been on the road, and frankly, he shouldn’t have been in the country. I’ve been unequivocally firm about that. So, frankly, I don’t have a lot of disagreement.”

Let us be clear: those words are not just a poor choice. They are racist, dehumanizing, and politically dangerous. They scapegoat immigrants, feed the flames of anti-immigrant sentiment, and import right-wing talking points into a state that prides itself on diversity and fairness.

The death of these two people was a tragedy, but we cannot let grief or anger be twisted into prejudice. Research shows immigrants are less likely to drive under the influence than U.S.-born residents. Yet, when they do, they face punishment twice over.

When leaders use tragedies to scapegoat immigrants, they set us on a path that history has shown leads only to division, injustice, and violence. We don’t name the citizenship status of U.S.-born drivers when they cause deadly crashes. To single out undocumented immigrants this way is a double standard that divides communities instead of uniting them.

New Jersey’s strength is in our diversity, our shared humanity, and our refusal to let fear dictate policy. We will not be pulled onto the tracks of racism or xenophobia. Not by our opponents, and not by our own elected officials. We will meet this moment by standing together, speaking the truth, and rejecting any attempt to pit neighbor against neighbor.

We urge the governor to bring together a task force to develop legislation to address the very real issues of addiction, mental health, and road safety, rather than using MAGA talking points to distract. That is how we keep our communities safe, and that is how we ensure New Jersey’s future is shaped by justice, not fear.

History will not remember the headlines or the sound bites. It will remember whether we stood up when our leaders abandoned principle for politics, and whether we chose to keep New Jersey’s moral compass pointed toward justice, or let it be turned toward hate.

With the looming threat of ICE raids in our community, we ask you to please donate to our Rapid Response Emergency Fund. Your support will directly assist detained families with legal fees, phone call funds, commissary funds, and keep our work alive.

DONATE HERE

We are living in a time where our immigrant neighbors are scared of even going to work. Their reason? Last week, Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) kidnapped sixteen community members in Princeton, New Jersey: one on Wednesday, July 23, and fifteen on Thursday, July 24.

It is our duty to stand beside them with courage and compassion, hence our need to elaborate on the mobilization we held at the Princeton Council meeting on Monday, July 28.

Resistencia en Acción NJ, which organized and led the mobilization at the Council meeting on Monday with our allies, is not simply an “advocacy group, ” as we have been referred. We are a grassroots organization with the mission of empowering and organizing our migrant communities under attack by hostile employers and politicians, especially now that the detention and deportation engine is at full throttle.

Our first mobilization at the Council meeting was on June 23. We asked the Council to pass a resolution in favor of the New Jersey Immigrant Trust Act (ITA). The ITA, which aims to protect immigrants’ data privacy from the clutches of a detention-happy federal government, is the most essential tool in New Jersey’s policy arsenal to protect our people. A resolution would send a message to the State House that the ITA must pass for everyone’s sake.

After dismissing the idea in that meeting, Mayor Mark Freda stated,

“We have a written document of what we’re going to do if ICE comes back into town: on how to alert people, how to pay attention to what’s going on, [and] how to share information with people.”

Since last week’s raids, we have only seen the following: the Municipality claiming that they are assisting only one family, and an online post on Princeton’s website, shared on Facebook and on the Municipality’s Instagram story about the July 24 raid.

In English.

For a Spanish-speaking immigrant population.

Their Council meetings still lack an interpreter, relying instead on Councilwoman Leticia Fraga’s translations for some of their statements.

Are these deficiencies part of the written document that Mayor Freda mentioned? We know that the Council and Mayor do not believe that Princeton is going to be safer after H.R. 1 (the “Big Beautiful Bill”) was passed into law, giving $170.2 billion to the detention and deportation machine. From a public perspective, however, they have not actively responded to the looming threat of increased ICE raids.

We, on the other hand, have redoubled our efforts to monitor ICE activity through our Rapid Response program, and are working with the majority of the families affected by the raids from last week. This does not need to be a competition on who can work for our community the most. We want to work together to empower our people as much as possible, and that is why we urged the Council three times to communicate with us, with no formal response.

Regrettably, the Council’s mistake is to believe that we and those who side with us do not deserve an answer, as if we were a fringe group, or a ”some,” as it refers to us. We, the “some,” with the hundreds of residents that join us to demand justice, say that there is an urgent need for local leadership to make a stand.

It is up to the Council and Mayor to meet with us now—not later—to co-create a full, transparent, and consistent community safety action plan that includes people being targeted by ICE. Anything less means abandonment.

With the looming threat of ICE raids in our community, we ask you to please donate to our Rapid Response Emergency Fund. Your support will directly assist detained families with legal fees, phone call funds, commissary funds, and keep our work alive.

DONATE HERE