Statement on SNAP Benefits and Continued ICE Enforcement in Issaquah

Two deeply troubling issues weigh on me today. At their root, they are perversely connected: they concern how we treat those we deem “others” in our country and the perilous, callous, inhumane road this administration is leading us down.

At a recent town hall, I mentioned that one thing keeping me awake at night is the rapidly shrinking distance between many American families and economic destitution, homelessness, and hunger. The continued government shutdown—the second longest in our history—means that DSHS will not be able to issue food benefits after October 31, and this administration has already signaled its refusal to fund food stamps thereafter. This means that within days, tens of millions of low-income Americans may lose assistance for food, childcare, and utilities if the federal government remains closed. Forty-two million Americans rely on SNAP—food stamps—for their groceries, and they stand to lose that assistance just as food banks reach capacity. Another 6.7 million women and children depend on WIC for nutrition support, with no guarantee the administration will allocate the emergency funds needed to keep the program running after this week.

Meanwhile, the East Wing of the People’s House—our White House—has been demolished, along with its history and purpose, to make way for a lavish, gold-gilt ballroom funded by private donors. The symbolism could not be starker: millions go hungry while those in power build monuments to excess.

That our current administration shows no care for these American families and children can only be explained by their perception of them as “others”—people who didn’t “make it” and are therefore to blame. The problem with the “making it” paradigm is that it has replaced careful scrutiny of true added value, equity, conscience, sustainability, morality, and legitimacy in too many of our leaders and influencers. This is particularly troublesome when “making it,” as it often does, comes through asymmetrical power dynamics, systemic privilege, bullying, or at the cost of others. While “making it” is essential to Americana and the American Dream, it used to be about talent, creativity, ingenuity, service, courage, even selflessness. Now it’s about winning, regardless of who suffers and bears the cost—and sometimes counting on “others” to bear that cost.

This same cruel logic—this same willingness to inflict suffering on those deemed “others”—has come to our own community this week. ICE arrests in Issaquah have brought the administration’s deportation machinery to our doorstep, making the connection between these two issues impossible to ignore. These are our neighbors, and they are being targeted by the same administration that views compassion as weakness and cruelty as policy.

The purge of “others” under the guise of law and order—ostensibly targeting dangerous criminals—is being enacted in our streets and courts through the deportation of non-dangerous, non-criminal immigrants, through the callous yet calculated separation of families, through the weaponization of children and parental love. Both the President and several senior members of his administration have questioned whether they need to uphold the Constitution regarding immigrants unlawfully present in the United States and whether these immigrants are entitled to due process rights. The dangerous fallacy here is that without due process, we cannot be certain of any person’s legal standing. Due process is a constitutional procedural guarantee of the right to fair and full discovery of one’s legal standing.

We are witnessing a pervasive and far-reaching resurgence of our worst impulses as we continuously foreclose pluralist expression, inclusion, tolerance, compassion, and grace. Beyond tightening immigration policies and brutally enforcing deportation quotas, that our government sees no legal, moral, or ethical problem in weaponizing the separation of migrant children from their parents as a means of deterrence reflects how successfully many in our country have dehumanized those perceived as “others.”

This is not who we are. This is not the country that welcomed our own families when they arrived with nothing but dreams and determination. Our strength has always been our capacity to see ourselves in the struggles of others, to recognize that every person carries a story of survival, hope, and resilience.