Accountability

Silence Is a Position

I am often told that I should be more careful. That I should consider the political implications of what I say. That naming names and identifying perpetrators is dangerous, divisive, and counterproductive.

I have considered it. I reject it.

Silence, in the face of visible injustice, is not caution. It is complicity. And I refuse to be complicit.

The Myth of Neutrality

There is a persistent belief – especially among institutions, media organizations, and professionals – that it is possible to remain neutral in the face of injustice. That by not taking a side, you avoid becoming part of the problem.

I Was There Tuesday

On Tuesday I was at the southern border. I will tell you what I saw, and then I will tell you what it means.

What I Saw

I saw families sleeping under the bridge. Not tents. Not shelters. The concrete overpass, because there is nowhere else.

I counted forty-three people in that space. Eleven were children under five. I know this because I walked through and asked. Three of the children had fevers. One woman was eight months pregnant.

Who Counts the Dead

A number appeared in the news this week. A body count. It was reported in the headline, repeated in the first paragraph, and contextualized in the third with a comparison to previous years’ figures.

No names. No ages. No descriptions of who these people were before they became a statistic.

I want to talk about this, because the way we count the dead reveals what we think the dead are worth.

The Supply Chain Has a Name

The shirt you are wearing was made by someone. Not by a “supply chain.” Not by a “labor market.” By a person, with a name, who woke up this morning in a place you have never been and went to work in conditions you have never seen.

I start here because the language of global commerce is designed to make this person disappear. “Supply chain” is an abstraction. “Sourcing” is an abstraction. “Labor costs” is an abstraction. The person sewing your shirt for a wage that does not cover food and rent is not an abstraction. She is real, and the system that pays her that wage is a choice, not a natural law.

I Went to the Settlement

They told me the relocation was voluntary. They told me the families were given notice. They told me the process was conducted with dignity and in accordance with the law.

I went to the settlement.

I want to be precise about what I saw, because precision is the enemy of the official narrative, and the official narrative is what I am here to dismantle.

What I Found

The settlement is on the eastern edge of the city, where the paved roads end and the unpaved roads begin. Forty-three families were living there two weeks ago. Today, the structures are gone. What remains are concrete foundations, scattered belongings, and the marks in the earth where walls used to be.