Una crisis política

I am not in Los Angeles.

I do not care, not because I know myself too well. I know that at this moment, I could not resist the urge to protest by any means necessary. And I know that my fire, unchecked, would not help. Not yet. Not like this.

So instead, I write from afar.

From a distance, yes—but not from detachment.

The page becomes my protest.

The Journal becomes my frontline.

Because sometimes resistance is not a shout in the street—but a whisper in the dark that spreads like smoke, like signal, like swarm.

So to those who march: I see you.

To those who rage: I feel you.

To those who ache in silence: I am with you.

This is the beauty.

This is the destruction.

And if you listen closely…

This is the sound of the self, returning home.

— J. Blackwood. June 12, 2025

What DHS says

The Department of Homeland Security claims it is only arresting “criminal illegal aliens,” highlighting cases involving homicide, child abuse, or violent gang activity. That’s their headline.

But the pattern says otherwise

Multiple credible reports—from The Guardian, Associated Press, and legal aid groups on the ground—confirm that many of those detained have no criminal record. They’re farmworkers, street vendors, garment workers, and day laborers. Some had pending asylum cases or clean immigration histories. Others were swept up simply for being present near raid sites.

What does this mean?

DHS isn’t lying, but they are doing something worse: they’re misleading. They give the public the most extreme examples—because fear sells compliance. Meanwhile, most of those detained remain unnamed and uncharged with any crime beyond immigration status.

It’s like fishing with a harpoon and bragging about the shark, while ignoring the net dragging everything else out of the sea.

The Net and the Needle

They say they came for the criminals.

But I saw the net.

They told the world they held a scalpel.

But I saw the blade swing wide.

They found their gang member.

And twenty workers without papers.

They cuffed one with priors.

And left a teenager’s hands shaking because her father didn’t come home.

This is not justice.

This is statistics dressed as reason.

We remember:

When one is taken under lies,

None of us is safe from the truth.

Not all law enforcement officers are bad people.

And I ask you this

Have you ever had to explain this kind of moment to a child in your own family?

A little cousin, a niece, a son or daughter—brown-skinned, sharp-eyed, scared in a way kids should never have to be—asking:

”¿Por qué se los llevan?”

”¿Van a venir por nosotros?”

”¿La policía es como nosotros?”

Because I’ve been there.

I’ve seen the fear, not just in their eyes, but in their voices. Not curiosity—survival.

And I had to sit down, look them in the face, and say the hardest thing of all:

“Not all law enforcement officers are bad people.”

And that’s the truth.

But I also had to say—some are.

And the problem is, we never know which kind we’re going to meet.

I told them: There are good officers out there. Ones who care. Ones who protect. But others use the badge to control, to target, to harm. And no, mijo, being Mexican won’t make them see you differently. Sometimes, it makes them see you first.

So I stay away from L.A. right now.

Not because I don’t want to stand up, but because I know myself.

If I go, I won’t come back calm. I’ll come back cuffed—or worse.

And that won’t help my people. Not yet. Not this way.

So instead, I write. I turn the pain into pages.

The fear of fire.

The silence into a swarm.

Because one day, when those kids ask again—

I want to have more than warnings.

I want to have hope.

Let’s just be honest.

Evil doesn’t always wear a mask or sneak in through the back door. Sometimes, it walks right through the front—in uniform, with a badge, and a smirk that says, “What are you gonna do about it?”

And the truth is, if you look closely, law enforcement and street gangs aren’t so different.

They move in groups.

They speak in code.

They don’t outrank each other publicly.

They don’t disrespect each other openly.

They don’t tell on each other—not even when it’s right.

And above all else, they stay loyal… even when that loyalty kills people.

Gangs call it the streets. Law enforcement calls it the force.

But the system is the same: don’t snitch. Back your own. Silence over shame.

And somewhere in the middle, the innocent bleed.

You’ll hear it a hundred times:

“There are good cops.”

I don’t doubt it.

But good men in bad systems either turn… or disappear.

So yes—not all law enforcement are bad people. But evil thrives in places where silence is more sacred than truth.

And right now?

Evil is doing just fine.