54 families in the cold: A Call to conscience in Cedar Rapids

On a frozen morning outside the ICE/DHS center in Cedar Rapids, 54 families stood shivering in the bitter wind, waiting to check in. The lobby stood empty. The doors remained closed. The message was unmistakable: this was not about safety, not about order, not about justice. It was about making human beings suffer.

These families — our neighbors, our co-workers, our friends — endured the cold for no reason other than to comply with a senseless ritual. They were not accused of crimes. They were not threats to our community. They were simply required to show up, stand outside, and wait. In the end, all fifty-four families were checked in. No one was detained. No one was deported. The cruelty was the point.

This is not how a nation that prides itself on liberty should treat people who want nothing more than to live normal lives. The empty lobby was a symbol of indifference, a deliberate choice to strip away dignity. It is a reminder that policy can be wielded not just to regulate, but to humiliate.

I watched a little boy in a Disney Stitch hat and blanket shivering alongside his parents; fear etched across his face. Would he go home with his family that day, or be torn away like so many others? Tears flowed as I tried to imagine being his parent, waiting in that line. The scene was unimaginable, yet it was happening here, in our own community.

History teaches us that cruelty often hides in plain sight. Too often, ordinary people become bystanders out of fear, disbelief, or the assumption that nothing so horrific could really be happening. That is why we must continue to show up, to see with our own eyes, and to bear witness.

There is another story to tell — the story of solidarity. Community members stood alongside those 54 families, offering blankets, gloves, coffee, cocoa, and song. They refused to let them face the cold alone. That act of presence matters. It says: You are not invisible, you are not alone, and your dignity will not be erased.

America’s greatness has always been measured not by how it treats the powerful, but by how it treats the vulnerable. If we allow bureaucratic cruelty to become normalized, we betray our own values. If we stand together, we can demand a system rooted in humanity, not humiliation.

The frozen morning in Cedar Rapids should not be forgotten. It should be remembered as a call to conscience — a reminder that justice is not only about laws, but about how we treat families while those laws are enforced.

Susan Thompson lives in …