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Last week — in spite of a restraining order issued by California Federal Judge Maame E. Frimpong to curb targeted ICE raids across the state — the Supreme Court ruled in a 6-3 decision to dissolve the injunction, and green-light another wave of investigative patrols, stops and seizures.
The criteria for who might be subject to such activity includes anything from speaking Spanish (or accented English); to working a low-wage job (Justice Brett Kavanaugh noted those “who work or appear to work in jobs such as construction, landscaping, agriculture or car washes”); to simply looking Latino.
Several political and community leaders, including Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass and California Gov. Gavin Newsom condemned the decision. In a fiery dissent, Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayor wrote, “Countless people in the Los Angeles area have been grabbed, thrown to the ground, and handcuffed simply because of their looks, their accents, and the fact they make a living by doing manual labour. Today, the Court needlessly subjects countless more to these exact same indignities.”
And she’s right. Just ask Andry Hernández Romero, a gay, Venezuelan makeup artist who made headlines after he was wrongfully detained and deported to a maximum security prison in El Salvador. His crime? Two crown tattoos that say “Mom” and “Dad” on his forearms. The government claimed these tattoos linked Romero to the Venezuelan gang Tren De Aragua, despite Romero having no criminal record or any affiliation whatsoever to the gang.
Andry Hernández Romero emerged from the Salvadoran mega-prison as a household name. He’s now grappling with how to heal from the traumatic ordeal.
Andry is not a U.S. citizen, but he was here legally. He was seeking asylum on the basis of persecution for his sexuality and political beliefs in his home country, which is a right enshrined in the U.S. Constitution. He followed the law and established procedure, by participating in a credible fear interview and applying through the (very narrow) correct channels. ICE’s methods, which now have the Supreme Court’s support, allowed Andry to be unfairly targeted and forcibly deported — not even back to his home country, where he endured physical and sexual assault and psychological torture.
I fear this will be the case for many others given the Supreme Court’s latest ruling.
In the same way that something as innocent as one’s profession is being criminalized in real time to justify apprehension and detainment, the Trump administration has effectively made way for a “vibes-first” approach to deportation. The landscape of immigration is becoming more lawless by the second, and when I look at myself on paper against Andry — both Latino, both gay men, both law-abiding people who happen to have tattoos — I feel fear in my heart for what is now permitted under Trump and ICE’s regime.
If you don’t believe me, google “Romeo Honduras,” and you will become acquainted with the 4-year-old child, suffering from Stage 4 kidney cancer, who was deported back in August. Romeo, along with his also deported sister, was indeed a citizen of the United States.
Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents have deported a breastfeeding Cuban-born mother of a 1-year-old girl, as well as three children — all U.S. citizens — along with their Honduran-born mothers.
Andry is now free and living in Venezuela again, but the aftershocks remain. In a harrowing interview with MSNBC, Romero described the conditions of his imprisonment at the Center for Terrorism Confinement. “What did I do wrong? Is being gay a crime? Is it because I am a makeup artist? I asked questions, but I couldn’t begin to understand, in that moment, why I was in a maximum-security prison,” Andry told Ana Cabrera.
I was most heartbroken when Andry detailed the traumatic experience of having his head shaved by guards in front of everyone. “For us, the community committed to the beauty industry, we identify a lot with hair and our overall image and how we present ourselves. To be there, kneeling, handcuffed, on hands and feet, and several guards and common prisoners forcibly held me, cutting my hair, it was a big humiliation to me. And I thought, this can’t be happening to me.”
Where is the justice?
Recently, I attended Lady Gaga’s renowned Mayhem Ball tour. In a crowd of thousands of screaming fans, I was most struck by “Hair” — the sole piano ballad performed by Gaga that night. It’s a track from her iconic 2011 album, “Born This Way,” a work of art that has long provided solace for the LGBTQ+ community. Bathed in the ethereal glow of thousands of flashing bracelets and cellphone lights surrounding her, she sang:
I’ve had enough, this is my prayer.
That I’ll die living just as free as my hair.
I’ve had enough, I’m not a freak.
I just keep fightin’ to stay cool on these streets.
I’ve had enough, enough, enough.
And this is my prayer, I swear.
I’m as free as my hair.
I’m as free as my hair.
I am my hair.
I am my hair.
At that moment, I wept. I wept for Andry, and the thousands of others being held against their will, being stripped of their humanity in real time.
We must realize, now, that we are all Andry; or merely one Supreme Court decision away from becoming him.
