Dear Mr. Trump,

My name is Alan, and I’m currently held in an immigration detention center in McAllen, Texas.
I’ve heard you dehumanize me on the news, calling me an animal and a criminal; you even think
that I want to invade “your country.” Despite your ignorant and unfounded remarks, I’m none of
these things. I’m just a kid and like all kids, I just want to have fun, play with my friends, and laugh.
The only reason I’m even trying to go to the US is because I couldn’t safely do these things back home.
My family and I came here together not to find a prosperous life, but simply a life where survival is
expected. Yet, last night, I slept under a Mylar blanket on the floor of a detention center. Even then,
I’m one of the “lucky ones” who gets to be with their families. Isn’t it crazy how staying with your
family is “lucky,” not expected? America truly is the land of the free and the home of the brave (if
capturing and arresting young children is brave, that is).

With hate,

Alan

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