Rachel Parker

Twelve years ago, my life unraveled. My husband walked out, leaving me alone with our two young children. I was terrified, barely keeping up with bills, daycare costs impossible. That’s when someone recommended Gabriela. She was warm, kind, and quickly became part of our home. Without her, I would have drowned. I could work, provide for my kids, and they adored her.

Gabriela came to this country under difficult circumstances. She has no papers, no path to citizenship, no security. For years, we lived with the constant fear that she could be taken away, but nothing ever happened. Until now.

I am 45 years old, and we live in Chicago, USA. A new administration has just taken over. The world outside is different. The sidewalks are deserted. Schools are half-empty. People disappear overnight. They call it a crackdown. They call it law and order. I call it a nightmare.

Last night, we heard about an ICE raid just a few blocks away. A man we knew from the neighborhood, a father of three, was taken in front of his house. The news showed footage of him being shoved into a van while his children screamed. His wife has gone into hiding.

We had no choice. We moved Gabriela into the basement. It’s finished, comfortable even, but she is a prisoner now. The kids don’t understand. My daughter, now thirteen, asks why Gabriela can’t just get papers like everyone else. I try to explain the impossible bureaucracy, the decades-long waits, the laws that keep people like Gabriela in the shadows. But how do you explain cruelty to a child?

She is restless. She paces, peeks through the tiny window, listens for cars outside. The fear in her eyes is unbearable. The basement feels safe, but she knows it’s only temporary.

Meanwhile, I pretend at normalcy. I go to work, drop the kids at school, buy groceries. I see the empty spaces in classrooms, the missing faces at the corner store. Everyone is afraid. We glance at each other, but we do not speak.

I don’t know how long we can keep her hidden. I don’t know what comes next. But I do know this: I will not let them take her.