“We should not have to live in a country where the Government can seize anyone who looks Latino, speaks Spanish, and appears to work a low wage job.” — U.S. Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayor, dissenting.
Those words hit me like a punch to the chest, not just because they’re legally profound, but because they come from someone who understands. Like Justice Sotomayor, I am Puerto Rican. I speak with an accent. And I know what it feels like to be seen as “less American” for simply existing in my own skin, in my own voice.
In a recent Supreme Court decision, the majority ruled that federal agents may detain individuals based on little more than perceived identity, how they look, how they speak and what they seem to be doing. It’s a terrifying expansion of government power that strikes at the heart of Latino, immigrant and working-class communities.
This ruling is more than legally dangerous, it’s personally devastating. It tells people like me that no matter how long we’ve lived here or how much we contribute, we will always be suspects. That the mere fact of speaking Spanish, working a humble job or looking “different” is now enough for suspicion. This is not just unconstitutional. It is a political act shaped by racism and xenophobia and it sends a clear message: You don’t belong here.
We’ve seen this strategy before. Recently, a federal executive order attempted to declare English as the primary language of government, undermining decades of civil rights protections that guarantee access to public services in other languages. Policies like these don’t just limit access, they aim to erase us. To silence our voices. To push us out of sight and out of the American story.
Let’s be clear: This is segregation. Not the Jim Crow-era separate water fountains of the past, but a 21st-century version based on language, immigration status and skin tone. It’s the logic of “separate but equal” disguised as “national security.” And it’s spreading.
Under Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, national origin discrimination includes language-based exclusion, and that interpretation has been upheld for decades. But now, the legal ground beneath us is shaking.
Some say we’re being dramatic. That nothing will change. But I’ve seen fear grow in my own community. I’ve spoken to parents who now tell their children not to speak Spanish in public. I’ve translated at clinics, schools and work and seen firsthand how limited English is used to deny full dignity, and heard the fear in the voice of my people.
We cannot let that become normal. I will keep speaking Spanish at the grocery store, at the airport, and in every meeting I attend. I will speak it louder, for those who cannot. For those who fear that every word they speak might make them a target.
To the leaders in this state and this region: Defend language access. Reject racial profiling. Uphold dignity in every policy. And to every Latino who reads this, to every immigrant, every person with an accent, every family who has ever been told “speak English or leave”: You belong. You matter. And you are not alone.
If sounding like me makes you a suspect, then let’s all raise our voices in the language of resistance and remind this country who it truly belongs to.
