The Compassion of Strangers

With threats growing each day from this administration, the public response is increasingly pointing toward a path of basic compassion. By this, I mean that people—total strangers, but also fellow residents and neighbors—are taking a stand, including against the injustice, aggression and cruelty of I.C.E.

Witness what happened in San Diego outside the popular Buona Forchetta restaurant in South Park. When I.C.E. showed up in its vans to detain workers—not criminals, but workers—the community did not stand idly by. They began to fill the streets, block vehicles, and were eventually dispersed with flash bangs.

These acts of peaceful civil disobedience may not stop detentions in the moment, but they accomplish three other very important things.

First, they show the nation—and our fellow residents under threat from I.C.E.—that we still have their backs, understand that what is happening is deeply wrong, and will put ourselves on the line to help stop it.

Second, a public stand like this demonstrates what courage in the face of armed force looks like. This can spread quickly from town to town, city to city. If San Diego can resist, so can other communities. Courage is contagious.

Third, officials will understand that they will meet resistance and cannot assume a compliant citizenry. With enough pushback, they may choose to alter their practices—or, of course, escalate, which will only be met with greater resistance.

When people ask me what they can do today as ordinary citizens—beyond making phone calls and donating—I point to San Diego and say: “Get organized. Talk to your neighbors. Call a local community meeting and make a plan for peaceful resistance, including how to mobilize quickly. Know your rights, and come to the site of any I.C.E. raid prepared.”

I believe deeply in the goodness of people. I.C.E. raids are turning whole communities against this administration. There will be an electoral reckoning if we keep up the pressure and amplify these stories.

Helping this along are the callous, soulless reactions of GOP leaders—even to fears that Medicaid cuts will cause people to die. The front page of the Des Moines Register carried the story of Sen. Joni Ernst’s horrific response at a town hall:

Did she show contrition or apologize for her remarks later? No. She doubled down.

Sen. Ernst faces reelection in 2026. She is not unbeatable. She won’t have the wind of Trump at her back, and we can turn out enough outraged voters to push her out.

So what makes me such an optimist that the majority of the American people will reject this kind of MAGA trolling—the kind rewarded by the monster in the White House and his allies, yet so at odds with common decency and moral values?

I can offer a personal example.

On Friday, I took both babies to see the pediatrician. Ronan got his two-month vaccines, and Riley had her nine-month check up.

When the appointment was over, I tried to hail a ride-share with a carseat for Riley, but no cars were available for hours. So we schlepped to the subway—my nanny carrying Riley, me carrying Ronan in his car seat. It was a long series of stairs, awkward turnstiles, transfers, and jam-packed trains.

But at every moment, and from every person, others made way for us, gave up their seats, and smiled and cooed at the babies. That included Midwestern tourists in sports jerseys, young African American men heading back with us to Harlem, normally judgy Asian moms and grannies, and an older French couple who loved Riley’s headband and jean jacket. The compassion and desire to help were universal. I felt safer and more supported than I have in a long time.

The America we must reassert is one where strangers stand up for migrants they don’t know, where newspapers run headlines condemning the inhumanity of leaders, and where a family with two infants trying to get home becomes a successful group project. I know that America is still here, because I have seen and felt the power of its promise.

Have a great Sunday, and remember—each of us can play a part in making someone else feel safer and more secure.

—Jay