Alisa Is Home

Yesterday, Alisa came home.

I've been thinking about how strange it feels to write that sentence after everything that happened.

A few weeks ago, Alisa was taken into ICE detention at LAX while traveling to Hawaii with her husband, Haik. Then came the transfers. Adelanto. Texas. Another facility. Then another. Her family was scrambling to find her. Her attorneys were trying to keep up. And all of us were watching this happen from the outside, wondering what we could possibly do.

So we did what we could.

We called.

We emailed.

We wrote letters.

We reached out to Governor Newsom and Senator Schiff. We asked our friends to do the same. We shared Alisa's story and asked people to pay attention. We gathered at GAIA HQ and spent an evening making calls and writing letters. People who couldn't be there joined from wherever they were.

And now Alisa is home.

There is something really powerful about that.

Our community stood beside them.

We refused to let Alisa become just another name in a detention database. We kept talking about her. We kept calling. We kept asking questions. We kept reminding the people in positions of power that people were watching.

And yesterday, Haik got his wife back.

Alisa gets to go home.

Her students get their teacher back.

Her friends get their friend back.

And all of us get to take a breath.

I want to sincerely thank everyone who gave their time to this effort. Thank you to everyone who made a call, wrote a letter, sent an email, shared a post, came to GAIA HQ, or simply took a few minutes to learn Alisa's story and pass it along.

Those things can feel small when you're doing them.

A phone call can feel small.

A letter can feel small.

But movements are made out of small things.

They are made out of people deciding that something happening to someone else is still worth caring about. They are made out of ordinary people refusing to look away.

We don't always get to know what our actions will accomplish.

This time, we got to see the answer.

Alisa came home.

And I hope we remember that the next time someone tells us there is nothing we can do.

Sometimes there is.

Sometimes the most important thing we can do is simply stand up, stand together, and refuse to let someone stand alone.

Welcome home, Alisa.

And thank you to everyone who helped make sure she wasn't forgotten.