White Supremacy in the 21st century
First: It’s completely inappropriate for the mainstream media and the government to tell oppressed communities to respect their oppressors. We are told to support and respect a white supremacist who opposed the Civil Rights Act of 1964. I think not.
“I have nothing to lose by standing up for my beliefs. So I’ll go to jail, so what? We’ve been in jail for 400 years.” — Muhammad Ali, 1976
How do we move forward when our neighbors are being hunted for simply existing in the wrong place, on the wrong sidewalk, or leaving the wrong courtroom? How do we move forward when the Supreme Court has deemed racial profiling an acceptable breach of the Fourth Amendment? The law should never be mistaken for the moral high ground, because throughout history it has just as often been a weapon as it has been a shield, manipulated by those in power to strip away the civil rights of minorities at the expense of justice itself.
When was ICE established? U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) was created in March 2003 as a division under the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) through the Homeland Security Act of 2002, in direct response to 9/11 and the Patriot Act, which was signed into law by President George W. Bush.
ICE has been the latest weapon in the government’s arsenal to instill fear in the immigrant community. And when people respond with “do it the right way” or “don’t run if you have nothing to hide,” it is nothing more than a cliché attempt to dehumanize the experiences that many immigrants face daily due to racial profiling. In fact, this administration has eradicated countless programs designed to make it easier for Black and Brown immigrants to enter the country legally.
“And when I speak, I don't speak as a Democrat or a Republican, nor an American. I speak as a victim of America's so-called democracy. You and I have never seen democracy – all we've seen is hypocrisy.”
― Malcolm X, The Ballot or the Bullet
The Parole Program, which allowed people from Cuba, Haiti, Nicaragua, and Venezuela to legally enter the United States if they had a sponsor. Under this program, migrants could live and work in the U.S. for up to two years, offering a safer alternative to dangerous border crossings. By shutting it down, Trump not only stripped away a pathway for lawful entry but also reinforced a system that pushes vulnerable people back into harm’s way while catering to a white nationalist agenda.
This decision cannot be separated from the larger framework of immigration enforcement. ICE, born out of the post-9/11 climate through the Patriot Act and Department of Homeland Security, continues to police communities with fear, treating immigrants as threats rather than neighbors. Each policy rollback, like the end of CHNV, tightens ICE’s grip and makes it easier to criminalize everyday existence for those who fall outside of whiteness.
The latest Supreme Court rulings only compound this reality. By allowing racial profiling to masquerade as constitutional, the Supreme Court has provided cover for a system already built to discriminate. The law, rather than serving as a shield of justice, is once again being wielded as a weapon — one that validates ICE’s terror and Trump’s agenda to erase pathways to safety. This is what white supremacy looks like when it is codified at every level of governance.
We need to take a long, deep look in the mirror at what we have become as a society. Fear and power are being weaponized to turn entire communities into targets, and the silence around it only deepens the harm.
We are living in an era where white supremacists are awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom, while men with melanin in their skin are deemed inferior and incarcerated. That contradiction tells us everything about the sickness at the core of this country.
But let’s ask ourselves, what does white supremacy and Christian nationalism look like in the 21st century? At this point in history, we have two sets of laws: one for whites and one for people of color. Let’s not convolute it by making it more difficult than it needs to be.
Look no further than the 49ers football player, Colin Kaepernick. He used his First Amendment right to protest by simply kneeling during the national anthem. His action was peaceful, his message clear, I’ll not stand for a flag which oppresses minorities.
What was the response from the mainstream media and the NFL? Within months, he lost his football career and was plagued with slurs. All for exercising a constitutional right and voicing a truth about the oppression of people of color. Kaepernick explained it himself: “I am not going to stand up to show pride in a flag for a country that oppresses Black people and people of color.”
Nine years later, in 2025, the contrast could not be clearer. Charlie Kirk, a white nationalist with extreme conservative views and openly negative mindsets about minorities, was honored with multiple moments of silence after his death on September 10, 2025. The difference in treatment speaks volumes about the values being upheld in this country.
Look no further than the fact that within hours of Charlie Kirk’s murder, the U.S. State Department was already threatening to revoke visas from people who criticized his death. I am not condoning what happened, but the hypocrisy is loud.
For generations, people of color have been dying from gun violence, lynchings, torture, etc. and their names smeared, their families left in pain, and the government has done little to protect them or address the racist rhetoric that fuels this violence in the first place.
So, as a person of color, what I am critical of is the fact that we are forced to live under the reins of white supremacy, and if we do not advocate for it or if we criticize it, we are considered the problem. The issue in this country is framed as us versus them. It is never “we.” We have become fractured by socioeconomic status, religion, race, and the bubbles we choose to live in.
Healing as a country begins with honesty—acknowledging the harm that has been done and refusing to ignore the voices of those who have been silenced. It requires accountability at every level, from leaders who shape laws to neighbors who share sidewalks. Healing means investing in communities instead of criminalizing them, teaching empathy instead of fear, and choosing truth over propaganda. It doesn’t come from pretending divisions don’t exist but from confronting them together, with compassion and justice guiding the way. Only then can we start to rebuild trust and create a future rooted in dignity for everyone.
But, we first need to acknowledge there is a problem.
Second Class Citizens
The honest truth is that in 2025, I am a second-class citizen. Walking up to the ICE facility in Broadview, IL (just 10 miles outside of Chicago) feels surreal. The only thing that shields me from the inhumane treatment inside is a single document saying I’m naturalized. Yet stories continue to surface about people not being fed, denied hygiene, and subjected to cruel conditions. And while this happens, police still do their part to protect the very entity that is harming citizens and immigrants alike across the United States.
What’s a second class citizen?
Under Trump, programs like DACA (Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals) were targeted for elimination, and pathways like the CHNV Parole Program were dismantled. Immigrants who were legally living, working, and contributing to society suddenly faced uncertainty, deportation threats, and constant surveillance by ICE. Despite their legal presence, they were treated as disposable — second-class residents whose rights and humanity could be stripped away at any moment.
If the flag of an armed enemy of the U.S. is allowed to fly over government buildings, then it implies that slavery, or at least the threat of slavery, is sanctioned by that government and can still legally exist. - Amiri Baraka
“Let me be clear: The white man has never known the true pain of being Brown or Black in America and never will. When accountability feels like trauma to you, it’s only because oppression has always tilted in your favor. And when accountability looks like loss, you’ll call it suppression.” - Adriano
But how do we fix any of this? In my humble opinion, the news needs to slow down. By that I mean: get the facts straight before fueling a narrative that props up white superiority and white Christian nationalism. A clear example is the death of Charlie Kirk. Within hours, if not minutes, hate poured from every corner of the internet, with people hiding behind screens, eager to blame the “other side.”
And it wasn’t just fringe podcasters. Mainstream outlets shoveled out theories to fit the storyline they already wanted to believe. That isn’t journalism. Journalism is accountability. The first step to combat racism and ignorance is simple: verify your sources. It takes a few extra minutes, but unchecked narratives don’t just mislead, they put people at risk.
For example: When Utah Gov. Spencer Cox responded to the arrest of Tyler Robinson by saying he had hoped the shooter “wouldn’t be one of us,” it revealed just how dangerous this kind of dialogue can be. By centering the shock on the suspect’s identity rather than the violence itself, the governor implicitly separates “us” from “them,” reinforcing the idea that accountability only feels legitimate when it belongs to an outsider. This language feeds into the same divisive logic that protects white supremacy, where belonging shields people from condemnation while communities of color are vilified without hesitation. It normalizes the belief that violence is acceptable so long as it is committed by those inside the circle of “us,” a belief that ultimately deepens mistrust, excuses harm, and endangers marginalized communities.
It is your constitutional right, whether you’re a citizen or undocumented, to exercise free speech under the First Amendment. When a country bends to an alt-right narrative and throttles opposing voices, democracy itself collapses. We’re not waiting for a constitutional crisis, we’re choking on the smoke of one that already burned through.
All photographs are copyrighted by ©Adriano Kalin.
I appreciate you. Your words and photos are a powerful reminder that we have so much work to do. Terrifying times. Thank you for what you do.