Courtney Cushing Kiernat is a staff photographer and regular contributor. She lives in Kenwood.
My 36-year-old sister called me in a panic this week, afraid that the United States Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency (ICE) would arrest her.
At 2 years old, she joined our family after being adopted from her home country of Honduras. She was a resilient little peanut, and that resilience has carried her through many hard times.
But nothing prepares a person for the fear of being arrested by ICE, of having their life upended and their child traumatized.
While my news consumption has lessened in 2025, I am still an avid MPR listener and get the newspaper delivered to my door. I consider myself fairly informed about local and world events.
Yet when it came to the real threat of ICE, I was simply an informed media consumer going about my day, sharing frustration and anger with friends and colleagues from a safe distance. That distance disappeared the moment my sister called.
It is easy for me to move through my day and pretend everything is OK. I am not fearful that ICE agents will surround me, masked, with guns within arm’s reach, to forcibly arrest me.
I am not fearful that I will be taken and my family will not know where I am being held or whether I am safe.
I am not fearful that, in the chaos of confiscated phones and shouted commands, my husband’s phone number will slip from my mind as I plead with a bystander to call someone, anyone, for me.
I am not fearful for myself or my children that they will be traumatized by my hypervigilance or by rehearsed reminders of what to do if ICE comes to their school or takes me away in front of them.
“ …I am fearful for my sister and her daughter, who are just as American as I am yet targeted because of the color of their skin.”
But I am fearful for my sister and her daughter, who are just as American as I am yet targeted because of the color of their skin.
It is hard to find hope when my sister calls in a panic, afraid she could be arrested simply for going about her day, contributing to our community as a volunteer, taxpayer, neighbor and mother.
It is hard to find hope when my niece has to be reminded what to do if ICE approaches her or her mom.
I am, by nature, a glass-halffull person, and I need to take action.
I help my sister prepare, just in case she is picked up by ICE. I prepare myself for what to do if I witness another human being detained. I give to and volunteer with organizations that support immigrants.
I know I can and should do more from my position of safety, even when it feels overwhelming. So I focus on where I can make an impact, with my sister and within my community.
Everyone is someone’s child, someone’s friend, someone’s neighbor, and if you’re lucky, someone’s sibling. I owe it to my sister to speak up, act up and show up.
