When will it stop?
ICE is literally killing people—innocent American citizens—out in the open, in the middle of the street, execution-style. And as if that were not enough, this administration then deploys its propaganda machine to justify it all:
“They shouldn’t have been armed.”
“They’re domestic terrorists.”
“ICE is just doing its job and being attacked.”
What is happening? And how is this America?
It feels as though right and wrong no longer exist as shared values in this country. What constitutes a crime, who deserves grace, and who is worthy of a second chance all seem to depend on whose side you’re on—and how neatly your life fits into this administration’s narrative.
Consider this: The president recently criticized Alex Pretti, the 37-year-old nurse killed by a federal Border Patrol agent in Minneapolis, for carrying a gun during a protest.
“I don’t like any shooting,” the President said. “But I don’t like it when somebody goes into a protest with a very powerful, fully loaded gun with two magazines.”
Really?
This is coming from the same president—and political party—that loudly champions gun rights. The same people who defended the so-called “patriots” who stormed the U.S. Capitol on January 6, armed to the teeth, violently breaching the very seat of our democracy. The same party that defended Kyle Rittenhouse’s right to “bear arms” and “protect himself” under strikingly similar circumstances.
Pretti was exercising his constitutional right to bear arms. He had a permit to carry a gun. His weapon was holstered, not brandished as claimed by the DHS spokesperson. And yet his killing is being justified.
This is pure hypocrisy. And I am tired of watching people be killed only to have their deaths erased, explained away, or buried under talking points, as if their lives didn’t matter. As if they weren’t human. As if they weren’t American citizens.
This pain cuts even deeper because I know it personally. I know what it feels like to watch someone who looks like you be killed—and then hear their death rationalized because they are labeled a “criminal.” I know what it feels like for the world to send you a clear message: You don’t matter.
And yet, here I am—trying to galvanize incarcerated residents in Washington, DC, to vote in this climate.
We are approaching a pivotal election in the District and critical midterm elections nationwide. Nationally, the vote could halt the advancement of the MAGA movement and restore a semblance of a balance of power. In DC, residents will choose a new mayor, council chair and delegate to the House of Representatives; how strong and strategic these individuals are will determine our ability to continue governing despite a Congress that wants to take away our home rule. Voting has never been more important.
But for people who are incarcerated, formerly incarcerated or members of other marginalized communities—many of whom have historically been excluded from civic participation—what they are seeing from this government makes it harder to believe that voting matters. They are being shown, repeatedly, that outcomes are not driven by justice, morality or truth—but by power and political convenience.
That message is corrosive. And it directly undermines the work we do.
More Than Our Crimes is working overtime to educate, inform and galvanize a population who has long been told—explicitly and implicitly—that their voices do not count. We teach civic literacy. We help prisoners understand their rights. We work to reconnect them to a democratic process that has systematically failed them.
This administration’s rhetoric and actions make that work harder. When state violence is justified, when hypocrisy goes unchecked, and when human lives are reduced to political liabilities, it becomes more difficult to convince people—especially those most harmed by the system—that democracy belongs to them too.
That is precisely why our work is more vital now than ever. Because disengagement is the goal. Silence is the goal. Hopelessness is the goal.
And voting—especially by those the system would rather forget—is one of the most powerful ways to resist that.
