For the first time in my life, I am scared to go home.
News that belongs in a dystopian world floods in the minute I open my eyes, and the things I never thought I'd have to be scared of stop me from falling asleep at night. My greatest dream, my proudest accomplishment, has turned into my worst nightmare.
Every day, I think it can't possibly get worse, and then it does.
In real time, I can see that all the protections I thought I had are fading away. The University that is meant to represent my interests is caving under the demands of a presidential administration, prices of necessities are rising at an alarming rate and reading the thoughts of people online about the administration only makes me feel like my opinions are in the minority.
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In the first months of the Trump administration, over 1,000 student visas have been revoked, with some suing because they were denied due process. Arizona isn't even the state with the most revocations, but we still see terrifying numbers pouring in.
I don't know what I should confide in the people I love. Do I tell them about my fear? Do I tell them that over 100 people I go to school with, who worked just as hard as I did to get to where they are, have lost their visas?
I can't tell them. When my mother calls, I ask her about how she's doing and about my grandfather. I hope she doesn't bring up any of our family friends studying in the U.S.; I hope I don't have to hear the tense tone in her voice when she struggles to tell me some news.
There is no denying it — things are bad. I know they are bad because I get texts laced with fear asking if I'm going back home, eyebrows raised when I say "yes."
Colleges across the country have warned international students about traveling overseas. News organizations report that international student travel is a "high risk" because of rapidly changing immigration policies.
I know I'm not supposed to travel. But I've looked forward to going home at the end of the semester. And I know I'm not the only person who is scared.
My friends whose families have lived here for generations joke about getting deported and having nowhere to go, and other friends are losing money from funding cuts.
With every passing day, my LGBTQ+ friends have to worry more and more about their safety on campus. Their safe spaces and communities are no longer theirs, and they are forced to wonder if their university will stand up for them.
READ MORE: Students navigate campus life during new Trump era
It seems like the scales are just about to tip, like something big is just around the corner. It is nearly impossible to do homework at a time like this.
The only thing we seem to do is text each other news and pat each other's backs and share tubs of ice cream at midnight, insisting that it will all be OK. Sometimes, I almost believe that it is OK — even now.
We hold each other up and encourage each other to keep going, to keep fighting for our beliefs even if it's in small ways — sometimes, it works and we hear good news.
As I pack up my dorm room for the summer of uncertainty, I find shelter in the comfort of hope and the community around me that's determined to persevere.
Editor's note: The opinions presented in this column are the author's and do not imply any endorsement from The State Press or its editors.
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Edited by Andrew Dirst, Alysa Horton, Sophia Braccio, Alexis Heichman and Natalia Jarrett.
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