Palestinian Woman Compares ICE Detention to Life Under Israeli Occupation
In her first print interview since being released, Palestinian immigrant Leqaa Kordia has declared that after spending a year in custody, she sees it as her duty to denounce the human tragedy of Immigration and Customs Enforcement detention in the United States. Kordia, who was detained by ICE following her arrest at a protest against Israel's war in Gaza, told the Guardian that she observes a lot of similarities between the treatment of people in ICE custody and that of Palestinians living under Israeli occupation.
From Protest to Detention: A Personal Journey
When I took to the streets, I was defending my rights, and my family's rights, and calling for freedom for myself and freedom for my family, Kordia said of her participation in an April 2024 pro-Palestinian protest outside Columbia University. She was arrested along with dozens of others, though the charges against her were dropped the following day. With more than 200 members of her extended family killed by Israeli strikes in Gaza, Kordia didn't see herself as an activist, but rather just a Palestinian girl, protesting her family being killed.
Now, I'll advocate on behalf of the ladies I left behind, she stated, referring to the women with whom she shared an overcrowded dorm at the Prairieland detention center in Alvarado, Texas. I was advocating on behalf of my family in Palestine, and now I'm advocating on behalf of my family here in America. Now I have a bigger family.
Release Amid Pressure and Health Crisis
Kordia spoke with the Guardian at a Palestinian cafe in Paterson, New Jersey, home to one of the largest Palestinian-American communities in the country, two weeks after returning home. Her release came after an immigration judge for the third time ruled that she posed no threat and ordered her release on bond. This followed mounting pressure from legislators and human rights groups, and occurred after her hospitalization on 6 February for a seizure she experienced while in detention.
Kordia has been living in the US for nearly a decade after leaving the West Bank, where she grew up with her father, to reunite with her mother, who is a US citizen. She has a pending green card application via her mother and no criminal record. She was arrested around the same time as Mahmoud Khalil and Mohsen Mahdawi, both Palestinian and Columbia University students, whose detention a federal judge in Boston ruled was unconstitutional and intentionally designed to chill speech.
Echoes of Childhood Trauma in Detention
Her time in ICE custody has brought back many memories of her childhood in Palestine, Kordia says. When she was nine years old, during the second intifada, she woke up one day to a group of Israeli soldiers in her bedroom, pointing guns at her. Palestinians in the occupied territory were living under curfew, and snipers had been stationed on the family's rooftop for days, while tanks lined the streets outside their home.
Like many children there, she was used to checkpoints, raids and daily humiliations. Once, she had watched soldiers knock her brother unconscious. But the night soldiers barged into her bedroom was uniquely terrifying. As soon as I opened my eyes I saw that soldier laughing literally laughing and pointing his rifle in my face, she recalled.
She found echoes of that moment in Texas, where she said guards would ignore detainees when they asked for help, told them to shut up and frequently laughed at them. Describing the indignities of life in detention would take days, she said, before listing a series of abuses:
- Sleeping on a paper-thin mattress on the floor due to overcrowding
- Complete disregard of her religious rights
- Medical neglect that led to her hospitalization
Harsh Conditions and Systemic Neglect
The detention center was always cold, she said, and when she and others complained, guards told them it was to protect them from germs. Women who asked for water during hours-long intake processing were directed to a water fountain attached to a toilet seat. When the showers in the center broke down, guards responded to complaints by saying, It is what it is, Kordia remembered.
Drinking water would sometimes have things swimming in it. The food served at 4am, 10am and 4pm was often uneatable. Detainees referred to it as dog food, but those who refused it risked being put on suicide watch in isolation. People can literally grow crazy in those places, she stated. She described women breaking down and experiencing panic attacks under the eyes of indifferent guards.
Community and Solidarity Behind Bars
There were pregnant women at the center as well as sick and elderly ones guards were equally dismissive of their requests for help. They just didn't care, Kordia said. She described the frequent shuffling of detainees from one center to the other often causing them to miss their court hearings as human trafficking. The word detention center sounds nice, she added. It's not nice. It's a jail.
For all the current talk about ICE, Kordia believes that the general public doesn't have an understanding of what conditions in immigration detention are like. She herself thought she was an informed person It turns out I didn't know, she admitted.
But despite their harrowing experiences, women in detention built deep bonds across life experiences and language barriers. They exchanged relatives' numbers so that if someone was transferred or deported they could notify each other's families. When Kordia was hospitalized, her family only learned of it from a fellow detainee; they spent three days trying to get ICE to tell them where they had taken her.
Acts of Kindness and Shared Struggles
Kordia described countless other gestures of solidarity in detention. When she was sick, other women would cook with the centre's microwave and bring it to her; when someone had a birthday, they celebrated with items from the commissary. When she collapsed and had a seizure in February, a fellow detainee insisted with guards that they take her hijab with her to the hospital.
I was sent far away from my community in New Jersey, all the way to Texas, for them to isolate me, she said. Instead, she found a tight-knit community. When somebody cries, everybody cries, when somebody laughs, everybody laughs.
She also took her detention as an opportunity to talk to fellow detainees and any guards who would listen about the plight of Palestinians. Some already knew about it; others learned of it from her for the first time. She had a copy of a book by the Palestinian poet Refaat Alareer, who was killed early in the war in an Israeli strike, that detainees who spoke English passed around and eagerly read.
Parallels in Dehumanization
We all came from countries where we know what war is. We know what struggle is, we know what poverty is, so it wasn't hard for them to relate, she explained. Kordia said the daily humiliation and stripping people of their dignity she had known in Palestine was an experience anyone in immigration detention could understand. They don't call you by name, they call you subject, or by number, she said of ICE guards and Israeli soldiers alike.
When she left Palestine for the US in 2016, Kordia thought that America was all about freedom. Everybody can say whatever they want and do whatever they want, she recalled thinking. I really used to believe that.
Uncertain Future and Continued Advocacy
Before her detention, she was working as a server at a Palestinian restaurant in Paterson, with dreams of opening a cafe of her own. Now she's not sure what she'll do; an immigration court has granted her temporary protection but the administration is continuing to seek her deportation. But while she still doesn't see herself as an activist, she now sees no choice but to speak about her experience.
The least I can do is talk about what those I left behind are facing every day, she concluded, emphasizing her commitment to raising awareness about the conditions in ICE detention centers and the ongoing struggles of Palestinians.
