They Say It Can’t Happen Here
But it already is—in quiet towns, in crowded classrooms, in whispered warnings no child should know.
They say it can’t happen here.
Not in a place like this.
Not with churches on every corner.
Not with flags waving quietly over tidy lawns.
Not where the porch lights stay on and the dogs bark at nothing and the silence feels earned.
They say it with certainty.
With a shrug.
With the comfort of distance.
With the luxury of not having to know.
But it’s already happening.
And the thing about horror is - it rarely announces itself.
It creeps. It knocks.
Or it doesn’t knock at all.
So if it can’t happen here -
Why are parents spending time
signing custody plans with notaries
behind locked doors?
Why are they whispering to their children,
Si no regreso, mi amor… busca a esta persona, ¿sí? No tengas miedo.
Why are they folding fear
into manila envelopes
and handing it to first graders
just in case?
Why are children learning not just their ABCs,
but how to say,
Porfa… no se lleven a mi mami. Por favor, no.
If it can’t happen here -
Why do schools have protocols
for what to do
if a child is left behind?
Why are teachers being trained
in how to comfort a student
whose mother was there at breakfast
but not at dismissal?
Why are school secretaries holding emergency contact lists
like scripture -
not to read from,
but to cling to?
If it can’t happen here -
Why are college students
quietly disappearing from classrooms?
Not because of grades.
Not because they gave up.
Because showing up
might mean being seen.
And being seen
might mean being taken.
If it can’t happen here -
Why are parents teaching their kids
not how to ride a bike,
but how to spot them?
Not how to tie their shoes,
but how to recognize plainclothes agents
who don’t wear badges.
How to watch for cars
that idle too long at the end of the street.
How to listen for footsteps
that don’t belong.
Mi amor… no abras la puerta, pase lo que pase.
Si preguntan por mí, di que no sabes nada. Nada, ¿me oíste? Nada.
Because they don’t always wear a uniform.
Because the knock doesn’t come with a warning.
Because in this America,
the monster doesn’t need a mask.
If it can’t happen here -
Why is it illegal to help?
In state after state,
to house someone,
to feed someone,
to drive them,
to treat them,
to love them -
is to risk becoming a criminal.
And yet, people do it anyway.
They teach English in borrowed rooms.
They bring groceries in the dark.
They coordinate rides from burner phones.
They offer antibiotics.
Legal advice.
A hand on the shoulder - quiet as a blessing.
They risk everything
because love doesn’t wait for permission.
No sé qué va a pasar, mijo… pero estoy contigo. Siempre.
It’s building.
It’s happening.
It’s spreading.
And still -
They say it can’t happen here.
They say it won’t.
They say.
They say.
They say.
They say -
Silence.
The kind of silence
you hold your breath through.
The kind where a mother
clutches her child in a closet
because someone’s knocking
and she doesn’t know
if she’ll see morning.
And I want to know -
Why?
Why are we doing this?
Why are we letting this happen?
Why are we tearing families apart
with paperwork and polite indifference?
Why are children
learning how to survive their own country?
Why are the people who love the most
risking the most
just to stay?
Why are good people
forced to hide their goodness
while others parade their cruelty
with pride?
No one’s coming for me.
But I know what it means
when we tell ourselves,
It’s not happening here.
When we say,
This isn’t who we are -
even as we prove
that it is.
So if you’ve ever said,
“I would’ve done something.”
“I would’ve stood up.”
“Not on my watch…”
This is the moment you meant.
This is the knock at the door.
Because it’s not just happening at the border.
It’s not just happening in the headlines.
It’s happening
on your street.
In your school.
Behind the blinds you pass every day.
They say it can’t happen here.
But it already is.
Aquí seguimos, aunque nos quieran romper. Todos valemos. Todos merecemos vivir sin miedo.
Con cariño y fuerza.
https://www.immigrantdefenseproject.org/know-your-rights-with-ice/
https://www.ilrc.org/resources/community/know-your-rights-toolkit
Heartfelt Thanks Chase. Well said. Real and True.