This past March, the Trump administration deported over 200 men to El Salvador to be held in the notorious maximum-security prison known as the Centro de Confinamiento del Terrorismo.
White House spokespersons have repeatedly claimed that these men — most of whom are of Venezuelan background — are members of the Venezuelan gang, Tren de Aragua.
However, multiple outlets have reported that neither the U.S. government nor El Salvador have provided any evidence to support these accusations. In fact, a representative from U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement even admitted that many of the 200-plus men now imprisoned within CECOT have no known criminal record. Based on testimony from friends, families, and lawyers, it appears that ICE chose to target these men primarily because of their ethnicity and status as noncitizens. Meanwhile, the Trump administration seems to be relying on flimsy criteria to determine whether a person is a gang member. According to a report from The New York Times, a major way an individual’s membership of Tren de Aragua is being validated has been by examining their tattoos.
A recent story published in The Guardian highlighted eight men who were deported to El Salvador apparently based on their tattoos, with the youngest among them being only 19 years old. Experts have repeatedly explained Tren de Aragua is not known to use tattoos to signify membership, and both the FBI and Department of Homeland Security have voiced serious doubts on the effectiveness of such tactics.
Unfortunately, this hasn’t stopped U.S. enforcement agencies from targeting specific tattoos in an attempt to identify gang members, according to The Guardian. Of the eight men profiled, the list of suspicious body art included the names of family members, an autism awareness ribbon, Bible verses and other tributes to God, and roses.
It’s impossible to describe the wave of despair I felt when I first read that ICE was targeting people with rose tattoos. Roses hold special significance for me. A small cluster of them used to grow along a brick wall near my work, and during breaks I would sometimes go down to sit among the flowers and inhale their scent. Roses can also signify different expressions of love and, as a Christian, I’ve always liked the idea of carrying a symbol of love on my body. That’s why, one morning years ago, I went and secured my very own rose tattoo.
My tattoo is a personal reminder to stop and appreciate life’s beauty — both in the wonder of nature and in the relationships that make my life meaningful.
After reading about the deportations, I can remember touching my own tattoo and reflecting on its harmless meaning. How casually I had approached getting it applied. Perhaps the men featured in The Guardian story had a similar outlook when getting their tattoos. They probably just wanted to carry around small reminders of the people and things they cherished. Maybe, like me, they thought a tattoo would make them appear more interesting. The cruelty of the arrests, and the laziness of using tattoos as a defense, was beyond sickening.
These men were condemned to prison not because of their tattoos and not even because of their “gang affiliation,” but because the government is actively working to target immigrants, regardless of their legal status. Now, they’ve been sentenced to a cage where they will remain indefinitely and face serious danger of torture, malnutrition, and death.
Christians need to recognize that what the Trump administration is doing to these men is not only unjust, it is evil. Many of these individuals were deported to CECOT without due process and in apparent violation of court orders. In the case of Kilmar Armando Abrego Garcia, a Maryland man who was deported due to “an administrative error,” the Trump administration has defied a judge’s orders to “facilitate” Abrego Garcia’s return to the U.S.
Australian journalist Liam Bartlett, who was granted access, gave this stark account of the conditions within CECOT, which is notorious for human rights abuses:
“Imagine how long you would last in these conditions: There’s no sheets, no mattresses. They [the people imprisoned] sleep on cold steel frames, and they eat the same meal every single day. Utensils are banned, so they use their hands. There’s just two open toilets in each of these massive cells, and the lights stay on 24/7.”
As a Christian writer, I often feel the need to justify my social and political views with appeals to scripture. In this instance, however, I’ve experienced what can only be described as a sort of spiritual paralysis. Not because the Bible is silent, but because the entirety of scripture testifies against what is occurring, and I have no idea where to begin or whether people’s hearts are too hardened to even care.
Should I point out that Jesus himself was once an asylum seeker fleeing oppression? That, like these men, he too was arrested and tortured despite committing no crime (Luke 23:13-17)? Maybe I could list the countless verses instructing the Israelites not to oppress the foreigners among them (Exodus 22:21; Leviticus 19:33; Malachi 3:5), or make an appeal to the Christian tenet of inherent human dignity (Genesis 1:27; Psalm 139:13-16; Galatians 3:28)? What about God’s commitment to justice, truth, and mercy (Amos 5:24; Zechariah 8:16; Matthew 5:7)? How can we look at facts behind these deportations and see anything more than a desecration of Christ’s command to love our neighbor (Matthew 22:36-40)?
Even if it’s demonstrated that these men broke the law, as the White House claims, that does not excuse what President Donald Trump and his subordinates are doing. The U.S. Constitution expressly guarantees individuals the right to due process, regardless of citizenship.
Scripture, likewise, teaches that even the worst sinners are made in God’s image and that their dignity must never be withheld. In the end, it doesn’t matter whether the men being deported are saints or villains. The Trump administration has declared a war on immigrants and we, as American citizens and followers of Jesus, have an obligation to speak out.
Right now, many Christians are feeling discouraged and exhausted. The relentless attacks on student protesters, the cutting of lifesaving aid programs, and countless other cruelties inflicted by this administration are taxing our resources, our attention, and our hope. Coming to the defense of these men feels impossible, especially when a faction of the conservative church is not just ambivalent to their incarceration, but actively supporting it. No matter how dispirited or depleted we are, there are still small but significant things we can do.
We can make sure that our neighbors know their rights if they are ever confronted by ICE. We can support schools and churches who serve and defend asylum seekers and migrant communities. We can hold our friends and family accountable for their votes, especially if they were motivated by false perceptions of immigrants. We can badger our political representatives, donate to trusted organizations, and try to educate both ourselves and others. Above all, we can name the evil we’re witnessing for what it is, and refuse to accept it as normal.
In the haunting conclusion to a recent Time article, Philip Holsinger captured how the 261 deported men could easily fade from the public consciousness:
“For these Venezuelans, it was not just a prison they had arrived at. It was exile to another world, a place so cold and far from home they may as well have been sent into space, nameless and forgotten. Holding my camera, it was as if I watched them become ghosts.”
If a rose tattoo can be used to justify damning someone to hell, then our response as Christians must be one that is rooted in the hope, compassion, and righteousness of Jesus. For if Christ has defeated death, then perhaps through our small acts of faith, even ghosts might be resurrected.
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