July 10, 2025

Camarillo, CA

*Please note, I wrote this morning of 7/12 upon waking up. I am so sorry, I still have not caught up on messages, but please know I appreciate you checking on me. I have not read statements, comments, or all the news articles. This is my personal perspective, my lived experience. I will likely not be able to catch up until next week.*

These past couple of days have each felt like a week. This week like a month. This month like a year. This year like a lifetime.

I’m finally ready to take off my armor, the PC, the attempts to not be political and to just finally be who I fucking am. This bear was not poked, I was full on fucking assaulted. Tell me how professional you are when you are getting shot at. Please.

After the Camarillo City Council meeting, I could not sleep until 2 in the morning. I was buzzing from the beauty of how many community members came and spoke truth to power.

I have not been sleeping well knowing that each of the 3 local facilities are 5-10 minutes away from the place that I sleep. “You’re a US Citizen, why would you be scared?” I am fucking terrified and now more than ever am I. Writing this, I fear for retaliation. I am scared for my family.

Do you know what PJ said to me? As I talk to her so honestly about what is happening around us, trying to at the same time not expose her to the brutality of it. I want her to know her Hispanic heritage, because it is something I am so proud of. One night as we were talking, she said “Mom, I’m happy to be Latina, but I’m also kind of sad… What if they deport me?” How do you answer that to a 7 year old? I had to try to tell my daughter, born in Camarillo, with an ancestry of family that came to America on the Mayflower, that being deported meant being sent back to the place you were born, at least it used to… I wept that night. Actually, I cannot remember a day I have not weeped since people started to get taken.

I am fully Latina. I struggle every day with it. Because I never feel enough. There is this twisted self-imposed burden of wondering if I have a “right to claim it.” My name does not match who you would think of when you hear it. It never has. I am brown. But not brown enough. I am white-passing, but not white enough. I speak Spanish, but am self-conscious as I play charades trying to find the next word speaking it.

Ni de aquí, ni de allá.

I am grateful that I can at least listen in Spanish. My Spanish is rooted in religion and music. I could not recite you the Lord’s Prayer in English, because it was instilled in me in Spanish. My first concerts were with my mom going to go see Bronco and Ezequiel Peña. Banda Machos was blasted as she dropped me off at school. Paquita was on repeat. Every birthday we woke up to “Las Mañanitas” at full volume, usually earlier than we ever intended to wake up. At least once a month we ended up at a discoteca; my first CD was Selena’s “Dreaming of You.”

Selena was my favorite. My queen before becoming an immortalized icon. She is a beloved Mexican-American treasure. And means even more to me because she struggled in not being able to speak perfect Spanish.

There are small moments that can forever shape you. My mother has a thick accent. With the news on in the background, I remember her muttering, “Stupid, Pitt Wilson.” Her frustration with government is what spurred me to be dedicated to change it. I was not going to sit on the sideline and complain if I was not going to take action.

So when asked in 6th grade who the Governor of California is, I proudly and confidently held my hand up because I had heard time and time again, “Pitt Wilson.” Laughter erupted. “You mean, Pete Wilson?” I was embarrassed. To the point where I consciously worked to lose my accent and speak perfect English, now to only be able to speak broken Spanish.

Ni de aquí, ni de allá.

I am a first-generation immigrant. I did not know many growing up. During Freshman Orientation at Berkeley, when asked how many in the room were first-generation, 75% of the room stood up. I cried because I finally felt like I belonged. Berkeley allowed me to discover who I truly am. A strong, caring, passionate person dedicated to making positive change in this world. To hopefully make everywhere I am present a little bit better. My identity for once did not matter, because I could just be.

I moved to LA, a place that was always a second home growing up to visit tias. I had a love for the 5 and 99 with many miles put in up and down them. But then I moved to Camarillo. And had to figure out who I was again, especially as I started a new family. I was in a place similar to where I grew up, a place where I did not feel that I belonged yet still felt like home. A primarily conservative town, or so they want you to believe. Through Moms of Camarillo, I found my community. I messaged a mom who was speaking out about mental health and she welcomed me into DMOC. Along with this group of incredible women, we united 9 years ago in City Hall to speak up on SB54, to push out hateful rhetoric that was traveling up and down the coast meeting to meeting. That night I had the strangest request to Council… to do nothing, to leave it be.

Another moment that changed my life. Seeing the bravery and making new friends among other speakers. My community solidified. I made my new best friends that would lead me to even more new best friends. My husband that night (who is terrified of public speaking) spoke up because it was too important not to. The way he and others were treated that evening made me vow to make sure that Camarillo would get better leadership. And it did. Because so many in that room wanted to see that too.

I was reminded of this night again. Over 50 speakers (not including those who just showed up in solidarity) asked for Council to help them feel safe, not for immigration reform, but for accountability from the Sheriff’s department to DEMONSTRATE they are not cooperating with ICE and not issuing hollow statements, to have them follow LAPD’s recent guidance in requiring identification, funding a defense fund for immigrants unjustly being taken, and to host a workshop, a forum on knowing your rights and about the ICE activity.

This was another night where I made more friends and found more community. This time at City Council, my husband (with roots back to the founding of this city) felt more comfortable to freely express himself, because 2 other speakers of the last time he addressed council, now sat on that dais.

As I reeled in pride that night, catching up on messages, sharing that pride and comments from others to those who were not able to attend, and also sitting in frustration with council comments when the public was told immigration reform is not what the council could do, which is literally what no one asked of them that night. They asked for accountability. “Talk to your electeds.” Yes, we have. In fact, I stood beside them at the protests as they are defending our rights, the true values of our country. I KNOW where they stand. Unfortunately, it was not made clear where each of them did that night.

I finally took some Tylenol PM to help me sleep in. As I started up a slow morning, I soon saw messages trickling in that people were being taken en masse from a nearby farm. There was a call for support as families would need resources for those taken. I threw on clothes, said tearful goodbyes. PJ knew something was wrong and asked, “Mom, are people dying?” Before I was able to skirt around it… little did I know how literal that would become.

She has seen me run out that door too many times recently because support was needed due to the presence of ICE. I did not know how much I would have to run that day. That the tennis shoes I put on over ballet flats, probably helped me stay an ounce safer running from tear gas and pepper bullets. I didn’t know that was what was being shot at me until I picked them up yesterday in the aftermath of the attack.

This was NOT a protest. This was NOT a riot. This was a full-blown assault on Americans. On American values, the constitution, OUR fundamental rights.

Do you know why so many people were there in the first place? Because it was family and friends that showed up trying to figure out if they would see their loved ones again. Why was I there? I will be totally honest and feel so silly saying this… I was there to hand out red cards, pamphlets, be a resource for those friends and family as I signed onto to be as a 805 Immigrant Coalition volunteer and to capture footage of people being taken in case it could help someone know or identify who was taken, when and where. To yell “No digas nada, no firme nada” or “La Migra está aquí!” to warn neighboring fields. Tear gas had just been deployed. My team was up close so as people screamed, “They just threw tear gas, it’s not worth it!” I pulled up to try to help get them out or help however I could. To help keep peace.

Denae had been shouting along with others to stay back behind the line to others present. You know what launched the first round of tear gas? A son desperately wanting to check on his mom. These are untrained, unchecked cowards with weapons and no discipline or understanding of the meaning of crowd control.

I saw it first hand. As I walked up to see what was happening. Denae explained the situation. We stood on the side observing. I started to record to bear witness and to help others bear witness of what was happening, not in LA, but in Camarillo (population 70K), Ventura County (population 844K), MY BACKYARD, MY HOME. (The City of LA’s population is nearly 4 million for perspective.) She said, “Look they have zip ties. They’re getting ready to detain people.” I looked closer at each guard and as I did, I saw one reaching down and realized he was going to shoot. We started running. He did so without warning, without a reason.

As I walked around, people recognized me. “Oh! You’re one of the people that spoke last night… You talked to my friend...” I saw other volunteers, I saw other speakers, I saw children, small children (who I am pretty sure I saw the night before too), fellow volunteers and friends, other elected officials across the county. I SAW COMMUNITY. I saw horror around me, but I saw the beauty of unity. I saw fear on both sides, fear from those of being shot at again for the uncertainty of what was happening behind the fence, behind the glass doors, and the fear from cowards that the people in front of them were braver than they could ever be.

We held no weapons, yet were not powerless. We held one another, we held hope, we held peace, we held truth, we held our phones to show you it. We held the power of people. THAT IS WHAT THEY ARE SCARED OF!!! The US military, Department of Homeland Security, FBI, Border Patrol and ICE combined were so afraid of the peacefully assembled that they had to call on the support of the Ventura County Sheriff’s Department. COWARDS. They can’t even carry out their own responsibilities and had to shove it off on local enforcement. Who, unfortunately, complied TO HELP ICE!!! NOT THE COMMUNITY!!! I did NOT feel safer with their presence. All of these raids have eroded public trust.

THE ONLY GUNS PRESENT WERE HELD BY MILITARY AND POLICE. This $50K award for the identity of the person that shot, will go unclaimed because there was not a lethal firearm. PLAYBACK THE TAPE. It does not look like the area many were in. Folks on the ground did not see or hear about it from others on the ground. But we sure heard about it on repeat from the news and in electeds’ statements. If there was in fact a gun, you don’t think those with little restraint for people carrying flags, irate at being shouted “Chinga la migra!” or being cussed at for the use of excessive and unnecessary force, would not have absolutely decimated everyone there??? No. PLAY BACK THE TAPE BECAUSE EVERY NEWS OUTLET SURE HAS. There was no kickback on those shots, no fire coming out of them…

DO NOT BE FOOLED. DO NOT BE DECEIVED. YOU KNOW ME, YOU KNOW WHO I AM. YOU KNOW THE LOVE AND CARE I CARRY WHEREVER I GO.

AND THAT’S WHY I STAYED. Because I KNEW you would be lied to. I went LIVE on FB so it was real, raw, and unedited.

I kept my distance so much that I was in my freaking car. They kept advancing. I was sitting in there telling others to get in every time tear gas was shot. And JUST SITTING THERE, A GUN WAS POINTED AT ME & DENAE. I literally was like WHY? I am sitting in my car?! Maybe my dash cam caught it? Why do I have a dash cam? AGAIN FOR PROOF SO THERE IS NO ROOM FOR LIES AND DECEPTION.

Thank you so much to everyone who reached out and check on me. You know why those crowds grew? Because they were checking in on their friend, and that friend came to check on the friend that came and then a friend came to bring supplies.

Behind masks on the civilian side, THE CIVIL SIDE, I saw friendly faces.

It’s like Eric Carle’s “Brown Bear, Brown Bear what do you see? I see…”

Oxnard Mayor Pro Tem, Gabe Teran

Ventura Unified School Board Trustee, James Forsythe

Ventura County Democratic Party Chair, Steven Auclair

805 UNDOCUfund Executive Director, Primi Hernandez

Buen Vecino Executive Director, Willie Lubka

Standing with me…

And then in the other 2 sites at Laguna, there was Congresswoman Brownley, Supervisor Lopez, Ojai Unified School District President Atticus Reyes and part of Assemblymember Bennett’s staff, staff from Assemblymember Irwin’s office, Oxnard Mayor McArthur and Councilmember Perez, TO Councilmember Gutierrez, Genevieve Flores-Haro OUHSD President & MICOP Associate Director, and late into the night joined by TO Mayor Newman and Oxnard Unified School District’s Cynthia Salas.

Just to name a few… and that does not include the countless friends who have been doing everything they can to make our community feel safe.

Stand in solidarity was no longer figurative, we stood together literally defending our community, teargassed and shot at with rubber bullets, pepper bullets and Lord knows what else. Oh, did I mention they used this chemical that was banned for use in warfare pursuant to the 1925 Geneva Protocol? How do I know? Because remnants of it are in my car…

Why do I share all of this? Because our stories matter. I am only one story… look for others that were actually there.

YOU MATTER. And I will defend you, my family, my friends, my neighbors, my community, my county, my state, my country, my world with every ounce of my being. I love you. Love is what unites us all.

Call on love. Call on peace.

CALL FOR ACCOUNTABILITY!!! CALL FOR JUSTICE!!! CALL FOR FREEDOM FOR ALL!!!

I went to Oxnard City Council and Thousand Oaks City Council meetings, my neighboring cities, because they were attacked with ICE raids. I wanted to be there to show support because I know if it was happening like that in Camarillo, I’d appreciate it so much too. And I am overwhelmed with gratitude for all of their support.

I am choosing to uplift and not express my disappointments because finger-pointing is what the administration wants. But know, I am still having those conversations even if they’re uncomfortable.

“Let Mommy sleep because she was up protecting families… Mommy is a superhero…” the things I hear Cory and PJ say (when they think I’m sleeping) to Teddy as he wants to barge in (and I’m actually finishing writing this…) I think this is a good place to stop for now.