The Pain of History
For Indigenous peoples, history is a tapestry woven with broken promises and resilience. Centuries of displacement, forced assimilation, and violence have taught us to survive even in the harshest conditions. For immigrants, the United States often represents a promise of opportunity, but that promise is double-edged, offering a dream to some while criminalizing others.
In Texas, the cross-roads of these identities is a constant reminder of both our erasure and our power. The land I walk on is the land of my ancestors, yet laws and policies seek to deny that truth. Trump’s divisive rhetoric, laced with undertones of white nationalism and exclusion, poses a profound threat not only to immigrant communities but also to the sovereignty and dignity of Native peoples.
A Call to Organize
The return of Trump to the highest office signals a renewed wave of policies aimed at stripping rights, sowing division, and targeting the most vulnerable among us. But this isn't a Trump or Republican issue alone. The US government —regardless of party—has proven that it's goal is not protecting Indigenous and immigrant rights. If history has taught us anything, it’s that resistance is born in moments like these, when our liberties are threatened.
Organizing begins at home, in our families and communities. For me, homeschooling my children is not just an act of education but an act of resistance. I teach them about our heritage, about the ways our ancestors fought against colonization, and about the strength we carry forward. This is the foundation for larger movements—a deep connection to who we are and why we fight.
From this foundation, we can build alliances across communities. Immigrant families, Indigenous peoples, Black and Brown communities, and even allies who recognize the stakes of this moment must come together. Grassroots organizing, mutual aid networks, and political education are tools we must wield with intention and strategy.
Resilience in Action
Resilience is more than survival. It is the ability to dream and create even in the face of adversity. As a Mexican and a Native, I draw strength from the stories of my people who adapted and thrived against all odds. The immigrant experience mirrors this—leaving home, navigating new systems, and carving out space to belong.
In this moment, resilience means taking action. It means showing up at city council meetings, mobilizing to protect our rights, and creating our own safe spaces where our stories can be told and heard. Resilience also means self-care—recognizing that this work is a marathon, not a sprint, and that our well-being is integral to our collective strength.
Imagining a Better Future
The next four years will be a challenge, but it is not the end of our story. As we organize and resist, we must also dare to imagine a better future. What would it look like to live in a world where all people—Indigenous, immigrant, and beyond—are valued and empowered? How can we build systems that honor our humanity and protect the earth that sustains us?
For me, this vision is rooted in ancestral knowledge and the dreams of future generations. It’s about teaching my children to be proud of who they are, connecting with others who share our values, and building a movement that doesn’t just react but also creates.
Answering the Call
The current administration is a call to action—a reminder that the work of justice is never done. I answer this call not with fear but with determination. Our ancestors endured so that we could stand here today, and it is our responsibility to ensure that future generations inherit a world worth fighting for.
So, feel the heaviness of this moment, but don't let it keep you down. Together, we can transform pain into power, history into action, and dreams into reality.
