Brazilian archbishop Hélder Pessoa Câmara once said, “When I give food to the poor, they call me a saint. When I ask why they are poor, they call me a communist.”

During my younger years as an academic, before being radicalized by standing in solidarity with the marginalized, I was simply a moderate progressive liberal. But such tame political views were still too extreme for my Cuban American friends and family. 

They delighted in calling me a communist, a particularly hurtful slur considering the lifelong pain and humiliation I suffered as a refugee because of an authoritarian regime. Simple minds falsely conflate empathy, concern and care for the disenfranchised with advocacy for antidemocratic principles and support for authoritarian regimes.

Let’s be clear: I don’t care for the oppressed and dispossessed because I read Marx, but because I read Mark. My faith and, more importantly, the humanity I strive to encompass, leave me no other choice but to stand in solidarity with those who are being threatened and victimized by authoritarian, undemocratic aspiring (or actual) dictators.

The irony is that my Cuban compatriots, who have tormented me with accusations of being a communist, have overwhelmingly voted for and supported this current administration, which has switched sides on a global scale, fawning over petty dictators. I guess authoritarianism is fine as long as it benefits you.

Let there be no misunderstandings: In Russia’s war against the Ukrainians, I stand with the Ukrainians, victimized by empire. In Israel’s war against the indigenous people of the land, I stand with the Palestinians, victimized by settler colonialism. And if the United States, of which I am a naturalized citizen, seeks territorial expansion into Canada, Panama or Greenland, then I will have no choice but to stand with those victimized by militarism.

I don’t stand with the disinherited because they are inherently holy or pure. I have no desire to romanticize those who are victimized by empire. I stand with all who are marginalized because the one whom I claim to be a disciple of has taught me to always stand in solidarity with today’s crucified people, regardless of the cost.

¡Mi casa es su casa, su causa es mi causa!

Some will no doubt call me a traitor for my willingness to stand against the United States when it engages in injustice. But the neanderthal belief of “my country, right or wrong” is the basis for the unacceptable and illegal excuse “I was just following orders.”

The defining indicator of who is a traitor to the United States must be disloyalty to the democratic principles of the Constitution, not the Commander-in-Chief. The greatest act of patriotism is holding the state accountable to the rhetoric of freedom and democracy it expounds.

I am cognizant that those wielding power may call me a traitor. They may succeed in tarnishing my reputation. But history will bear witness to my fidelity to justice.

Woe unto me if I’m more concerned with what I am called than what I do.

Am I afraid to take such stands in such a time as this? I’m aware that the government that has given me my citizenship can take it away. This is a conversation the administration is already considering through the elimination of birthright citizenship or the revocation of citizenship.

Am I afraid that the administration is going after academia and punishing those who teach and publish material detrimental to the party line? Absolutely. Especially when I realize I have already been targeted on the Professor Watchlist as one who should not be teaching.

Yes, I am afraid. I am very afraid. 

I confess I even explored leaving this country. Friends and colleagues have encouraged me to lay low. 

Because I am fearful, taking such advice is very tempting. But though I may be a coward, I refuse to play that role.

Remaining silent as the marginalized are crushed by my government is the ultimate unpatriotic act. But even if I do discipline my tongue and police my words, truly I say unto you, that these stones will cry out truth, justice, and liberation to the heavens.

As afraid as I am, I have no choice but to swallow my anxieties and apprehensions. Because if I do not speak now, then I deny everything I am. More importantly, I deny the God I claim to believe in and the Christ I claim to follow.

These are indeed frightening times. But oppression flourishes when we let our fear silence us. A price might be paid.

But as fearful as I am, refusing to share in the trials and tribulations of the least of these becomes a denial of my faith and humanity. If I am to be afraid, I choose to fear the loss of my soul in the next world over anything I can possibly lose in this world.