06/17/2025
I’m an immigrant. And I will always be proud.
It took me decades to say that with conviction. To unlearn the shame. To reclaim what America tried to erase.
Right now, people with legal status—temporary, permanent, documented—are being deported.
Ripped from their lives. Their families. Their communities.
It's happening quietly, systematically, and with a dangerous sense of normalcy.
I’ve been here before.
I was a volunteer immigration lawyer when Trump signed the travel ban. I fought for people who followed every rule, did everything “right,” and still faced expulsion—because their names, faces, or birthplaces didn’t fit someone’s vision of “belonging.”
Now, I live as a global mountain nomad, moving across cultures, borders, and landscapes.
From the Mongolian steppe to the Andes, the Himalayas to the High Atlas, I’ve come to understand that belonging is never permanent—but it is possible everywhere.
It’s not about passports. It’s about presence.
It’s about the responsibilities we carry when we enter new lands - respect, humility, and the willingness to learn.
And when we honor those responsibilities, we do belong.
The U.S., however, clings to a narrow and fearful idea of what it means to be “from here.”
It treats belonging as a zero-sum game—as if making space for immigrants means losing something.
But I’ve seen the opposite:
The more open we are, the more the world opens to us.
Being a nomad has taught me that this planet is small, abundant, and meant to be shared.
Borders are imaginary lines drawn by power—not by love or logic.
There is enough.
Enough land, enough kindness, enough space for all of us.
But America behaves like there’s nowhere better than itself.
Like opening up would somehow make it less.
That isolationist mindset robs everyone—immigrants and citizens alike—of the chance to know the world, and themselves, more fully.
I’ve lived over 30 years in America.
Even as a U.S. citizen, even as a public servant in the legal world, I was always made to feel like an outsider—especially with brown skin.
But out here, on the trails, among mountain people across continents, I found something I rarely found back home:
A sense of welcome.
A sense of enoughness.
When America deports immigrants with legal status, when it dismantles programs and tears apart families, it isn’t protecting anyone.
It’s betraying its own foundation.
It’s rejecting the very people who have built, nourished, and sustained it for generations.
It's self hate.
We don’t have to be territorial.
We don’t have to cling to fear.
We can live differently.
We can live together.
I hope one day we will raise generations in the U.S. who boldly say:
“I’m a proud immigrant.”
Not as an apology. But as a declaration of humanity.
Let’s move toward a world where belonging isn’t something to be earned or proven—but something to be offered. Because everyone deserves to feel like they belong.
Follow my journey via www.browngaltrekker.com