Protests in Thomas Paine Park against the detention of Palestinian activist and Columbia student Mahmoud Khalil. Photo: CC BY 4.0.
My husband, Mahmoud Khalil, is my rock. He is my home and he is my happy place. I am currently 8 months pregnant, and I could not imagine a better father for my child. We’ve been excitedly preparing to welcome our baby, and now Mahmoud has been ripped away from me for no reason at all.
I am pleading with the world to continue to speak up against his unjust and horrific detention by the Trump administration.
This last week has been a nightmare: Six days ago, an intense and targeted doxxing campaign against Mahmoud began. Anti-Palestinian organizations were spreading false claims about my husband that were simply not based in reality. They were making threats against Mahmoud and he was so concerned about his safety that he emailed Columbia University on March 7th. In his email, he begged the university for legal support, “I haven’t been able to sleep, fearing that ICE or a dangerous individual might come to my home. I urgently need legal support and I urge you to intervene,” he said in his email.
Columbia University never responded to that email.
Instead, on March 8th, at around 8:30 pm, as we were returning home from an Iftar dinner, an ICE officer followed us into our building and asked, “Are you Mahmoud Khalil?”
Mahmoud stated, “Yes.”
The officer then proceeded to say, “We are with the police, you have to come with us.”
The officer told Mahmoud to give me the apartment keys and that I could go upstairs. When I refused, afraid to leave my husband, the officer stated, “I will arrest you too.”
The officers later barricaded Mahmoud from me. We were not shown any warrant and the ICE officers hung up the phone on our lawyer. When my husband attempted to give me his phone so I could speak with our lawyer, the officers got increasingly aggressive, despite Mahmoud being fully cooperative.
Everyone who knows Mahmoud knows him to be level-headed even in the most stressful situations. And even in this terrifying situation, he was calm.
Within minutes, they had handcuffed Mahmoud, took him out into the street and forced him into an unmarked car. Watching this play out in front of me was traumatizing: It felt like a scene from a movie I never signed up to watch.
I was born and raised in the Midwest. My parents came here from Syria, carrying their stories of the oppressive regime there that made life unlivable. They believed living in the US would bring a sense of safety and stability. But here I am, 40 years after my parents immigrated here, and just weeks before I’m due to give birth to our first child, and I feel more unsafe and unstable than I have in my entire life.
US immigration ripped my soul from me when they handcuffed my husband and forced him into an unmarked vehicle. Instead of putting together our nursery and washing baby clothes in anticipation of our first child, I am left sitting in our apartment, wondering when Mahmoud will get a chance to call me from a detention center.
I demand the US government release him, reinstate his Green Card, and bring him home.
