Responding to my critics, ‘Why I can’t go to Rotary International convention in Canada’
Waiting for a flight. Photo: Gerald Farinas.
When I wrote my article explaining why I’ve decided not to attend the Rotary International Convention in Canada, it was not to sensationalize or to provoke fear for fear’s sake.
It was a deeply personal—and deeply political—decision rooted in the lived reality that people like me are facing in this moment in America.
And I must now respond to the criticism that I’m “overreacting,” that I should “just follow the rules,” or that I’m contributing to “fear-mongering.”
I want to be clear: I’m not afraid of rules.
I’m afraid of lawlessness dressed up as law and order.
Let’s begin with the simple but essential truth. Due process is not a technicality. It is the beating heart of a democracy.
It is what protects every single person in this country—citizen or not, innocent or accused, Black, Brown, white, queer, straight, left, or right—from the whims of unchecked power.
Due process means that before the state can take away your liberty, you get to be heard.
Before they lock you up, you stand before a judge.
Before they ruin your life, you have a chance to show that they’ve got it wrong.
The Trump Administration and its allies have made it disturbingly clear that they don’t believe everyone deserves that right.
They have argued in court—and acted on it—that people detained for immigration reasons, even U.S. citizens, are not guaranteed a day in court.
Not just immigrants without documentation.
Not just visa holders.
But citizens.
People like me.
Born and raised in this country.
People with brown skin, non-Anglo names, and family ties to immigrant stories.
To those who say “nothing will happen if you just follow the rules,” I want to ask—what rules are you referring to?
The rules that say a citizen can be detained and held indefinitely without the right to prove who they are?
The rules that allow law enforcement and federal officers to detain people based on databases that are known to have errors?
The rules that allow ICE to detain U.S. citizens for months—sometimes over a year—because they “look” undocumented?
This isn’t theoretical.
It’s already happened.
The Los Angeles Times reported on the case of Peter Sean Brown, a U.S. citizen born in Philadelphia, who was unlawfully detained and nearly deported to Jamaica.
His only “mistake” was having brown skin and being in the wrong database.
In another case, Francisco Erwin Galicia, an 18-year-old American citizen, was held by ICE for 26 days without access to a judge.
He lost 26 pounds in custody.
Tell me again how “following the rules” protects us.
Meanwhile, we see the chilling example of El Salvador, where President Nayib Bukele’s government has suspended due process in its so-called war on gangs. And President Trunp is following his example!
Tens of thousands have been rounded up and thrown into the CECOT mega-prison without trial. And that includes the people Trump sent there from the U.S.
Both our governments insist they “got the right people,” so there’s no need for a judge to weigh in.
That’s not justice.
That’s a dictatorship.
That logic is taking root into American soil.
What I am doing is not fear-mongering.
I am sounding the alarm.
Because it is not alarmist to call out authoritarianism when it is already happening.
When a government declares that you don’t have the right to defend yourself before a judge, it is not overreacting to take that threat seriously.
It is survival.
Some of the most horrific injustices in history happened not because people overreacted, but because they underreacted.
They assumed the worst wouldn’t happen.
That the rules would protect them.
That their citizenship would shield them.
That democracy would somehow survive, no matter what.
But democracy doesn’t survive on its own.
It survives because people speak up.
Because people resist.
Because people refuse to accept silence when their rights—or the rights of their neighbors—are being stripped away.
I made a decision not to leave the country right now. It was not an easy decision.
It meant giving up something I was deeply proud of—representing my hometown Rotary club at a global convention especially as president of my club, as an LGBTQ president, and as a president of color in a U.S. club where presidents are overwhelmingly rich white people.
But my dignity, my rights, and my ability to come home without being trapped in a bureaucratic nightmare mattered more.
If speaking out against that is “overreacting,” then I choose to overreact.
If protecting myself from the creeping erosion of rights is “fear-mongering,” then I will ring every bell I can.
Because silence is what authoritarians count on. And I refuse to be silent.
