Writing With Privilege
On Resistance, Responsibility, and the Cost of Free Speech
Today, I got a notification that I was ranked #98 among Rising Writers in U.S. Politics on Substack. I honestly didn’t know what that meant—or what metrics it was based on. But after a little digging, I learned that the Rising category is determined by an algorithmic mix of real-time engagement metrics. What that actually means on a technical level, I’m still not totally sure. What I do know is that my voice is resonating. And that’s something I don’t take lightly.
Ranking #98 in a category with thousands of other writers is something I consider an honor, a privilege, and a responsibility.
I didn’t set out to be a political writer. When I started this, I just wanted a formal place for my thoughts. Over the past 18 months, that seed has grown into a small but mighty community of readers. In my writing, I try to be honest, objective, and compassionate. Of the 16 posts I’ve published over the past year and a half, more than 30% have focused on the ongoing genocide in Palestine.
And it’s not lost on me that today, the same day I received this small recognition, Rumeysa Ozturk, a 30-year-old doctoral student at Tufts University, was quite literally kidnapped by the U.S. government.
She was detained on campus by masked, unidentified ICE agents with no criminal charges. A federal judge requested that she not be moved out of state unless charges were presented. She was still transferred—2,700 miles away to an ICE detention center—and still, no charges. The justification given was that she is a “Hamas sympathizer.”
Her alleged crime? Co-authoring an op-ed in her school newspaper that stated:
“These resolutions were the product of meaningful debate by the Senate and represent a sincere effort to hold Israel accountable for clear violations of international law. Credible accusations against Israel include accounts of deliberate starvation and indiscriminate slaughter of Palestinian civilians and plausible genocide.”
The piece makes no mention of Hamas. It simply calls on Tufts to live up to its own stated values.
It is also not lost on me that this milestone as a “rising political writer” comes nearly two weeks into the detention of Mahmoud Khalil, a Columbia student with a legal green card, an 8-month pregnant wife, and no criminal charges—only a conscience. He will likely miss the birth of his son.
These detentions are not justice. They are not legal. They are state-sanctioned kidnappings, plain and simple.
The United States government is kidnapping people who oppose genocide.
I have the privilege of continuing to write about this because I am a citizen. That distinction makes me safe—for now.
But fascists do not stop. The playbook begins by naming an imaginary enemy.
In the 1800s: Black people.
In the 1930s: Jewish people.
In 2025: Trans people and immigrants.
This doesn’t end when the current target is eliminated. It ends with all of us, unless we resist.
When I write, I try to invoke my heroes—James Baldwin, Ta-Nehisi Coates, Nina Simone—and to speak with honesty about the world as it is. There will come a time when the events of today will be recorded and studied. In that telling, I want it to be known that fascism was real, it was documented. I pray that they know that, we, the people resisted.
We are no longer in the realm of hypotheticals.
Would you house a slave during the Underground Railroad, knowing your family could be killed? Would you quit a job that supported fascist policies, even if you had mouths to feed? Would you oppose a genocide, even if it cost you your freedom?
We don’t have to wonder anymore. Mass injustice is happening. And it’s more documented than ever.
I’m grateful to Substack for acknowledging this growing community. But I write this not for me—I write for those who are detained, deported, and punished for bravery. I write because I can. I write because silence is complicity.
I cannot replace their voices, but I can amplify them. I can rest knowing that in the face of injustice, I stood as tall as I could. If death be the consequence, so be it.
What comes with complacency is far worse.
As your dad, your sentence "If death be the consequence, so be it" made me extremely uncomfortable. But, you, unfortunately, called out a possible reality. I do not, however, think we are there yet. By that I mean assasinating a voice for speaking his truth. Even though Matcolm, Martin, and Medgar were violently silenced, James Baldwin, Nina Simone were not and Ta-Nehisi Coates has not been. I think, if anything, you're more likely to be censored. That being said, I encourage you to keep exercising your freedom of speech, as Baldwin, Simone have done and Coates is doing. I think your voice and perspective are important.