Now that the world is on fire, federal workers working for free, air traffic running on literal extension cords, families ripped from cars and courts, young Black men lynched from trees, Black women fired in droves from any and every position of power, and grown ass adults in blow-up dinosaur costumes pepper-sprayed as if they were the real threat to our democracy.
Clergy and old people pushed, pummeled, and shoved to the ground by rent-a-cops with pretend credentials they refuse to reveal, paid by the government to do so, but tough guys not even qualified to be even a security officer at Claire’s.
After the Sandy Hook massacre in 2012, I tried — really tried to make a difference. I called, wrote, protested, marched, voted, canvassed, and lobbied in Hartford, New York, DC. I organized and emailed and facebooked and even so, even then, didn’t make a bit of difference.
Not in any meaningful way.
And then, we had state legislature and federal leadership willing to listen (but not legislate). But at least I tried.
So what to do now when the world is so bleak?
I recently went to a meeting to help immigrant families prepare for when ICE comes to their door. I spent an entire day listening to volunteers teaching volunteers what to do to help protect the most vulnerable of our communities. It’s a lot.
There’s rapid response groups when ICE and kidnappings are imminent. There’s family preparation clinics to teach families what to do “just in case.” Canvassing neighborhoods to educate. Volunteers to accompany people to immigration hearings. Clinics to gather essential documents (for an attorney) once someone is taken. Forms so children left are not put into the system, but instead, hopefully, with a trusted family member or friend. There’s help for groceries for people afraid to leave their homes. Workshops for employers wanting to protect their employees and their business.
This haunts me: one young leader said, looking at her classroom of old white people wanting to help: “Listen: People will be taken. There’s no stopping it. But we can film, document, to have information for the family left behind so they locate their family member afterwards and get them help.”
They will be taken. We can’t stop that.
It was terrifying. And real. And there were options so volunteers could sign up for “what they are most comfortable with.”
But nothing about this is comfortable, and no one is coming for me — white woman privilege.
So the very least I can do is get in the way. And Greater Danbury Unites for Immigrants is teaching me how. Find a group in your city. I guarantee there is one working just as hard.
I can’t do a lot. But I can do a little.
Small steps.
At least I’m walking them.


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