Congress members denied entry to Manhattan ICE facility, claim overcrowding, unsanitary conditions
Two members of Congress were blocked Sunday from entering an Immigration and Customs Enforcement facility in Manhattan after trying to inspect it amid widespread detainments and claims of unbearable heat and overcrowding — including detainees being forced to sleep on bathroom floors.
New York Democrat Representatives Adriano Espaillat and Nydia Velazquez tried to perform a drop-in check at a temporary detainment facility at 26 Federal Plaza in Tribeca Sunday afternoon, but said they were illegally denied entry by an official from the U.S. Department of Homeland Security. The pair argued that as elected officials, they have the legal right to inspect the facility unannounced.
'This is not Russia,' Rep. Velazquez said. 'This is the United States of America where we have three branches of government. The president of the United States is not a king. And we, as members of Congress, have the duly constitutional responsibility to exercise oversight in a place like this. What is it that they are hiding?'
The congressional reps tried inspecting the facility — where hundreds of immigrants are reportedly being held after being swept up in recent ICE raids — after receiving reports of unbearable heat and overcrowding to the point that detainees have been forced to sleep on bathroom floors, according to the New York Immigration Coalition.
'We are members or Congress, duly elected. Our constitutional right and our constitutional duty is to have oversight over these agencies and to ensure that we supervise and ascertain whether the conditions in these facilities are just or not, whether they're inhumane or not,' Rep. Espailllat said.
'Today ICE violated all of our rights because as an extension, we are here to defend your rights, the rights of the American people to have access and oversight to the federal buildings to ensure that everything is done correctly and in accordance to the law,' he said. 'We were denied that right today, a basic civil right, a constitutional right, that we as members of congress are here to uphold. So we will continue to come back.
'We will continue to come back until we are allowed to have access to the 10th floor.'
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For Justin Vivian Bond, the Trump administration's attacks on nonbinary identity reflect 'willful ignorance' more than anything else. The 62-year-old cabaret performer and actor grew up in the 60s and 70s, when even same-sex marriage seemed a far-off dream. As a child, they were terrified to come out to their family. Today, they're a trailblazer in nonbinary representation and something of an institution in New York City's music and theater scene. 'Some people are so resistant to anything that they don't know that they'll never know me – because they're just too ignorant,' they said. The concept of trans or nonbinary identities might be new to some people, they noted. But 'constant change, constant evolution, is part of being alive,' they went on. 'Otherwise you might as well just, you know, hang up your hat and go home and never leave again — or, in other words, drop dead.' A Maryland native, Bond's own career is a testament to the evolution of queer art and culture. They started their career in San Francisco, performing in trans playwright Kate Bornstein's 'Hidden: A Gender' before developing the legendary character of Kiki, 'a 60-some-year-old alcoholic lounge singer with ex-husbands and children,' one half of the 'Kiki and Herb' cabaret duo in which Bond performed in drag. The over-the-top, enraged character was forged at the height of the AIDS epidemic, through a palpable sense of anger from 'the knowledge that the people in power literally wanted us dead.' Since then, Bond has built a flourishing career as a solo artist, maintaining a years-long residency at Joe's Pub at The Public Theater in NYC and receiving a 2024 MacArthur 'genius grant' for crafting 'performances that center queer joy.' Bond's gender, like their artistic practice, is 'constantly evolving,' they said. After decades playing with gender and performance in their on-stage work and life, they started taking hormone replacement therapy in their 50s. 'Still to this day, I don't like being trapped into any identity, because it's just not something that is fixed,' they explained. Bond's own response to the newest waves of attacks by the Trump administration was one of exasperation and frustration: 'Why do we have to go through this?' But the queer community has survived worse, they said. 'All of our rights were fought for,' they said. 'We've always had ways of working around these patriarchal nimrods, and living our lives and being happy and enjoying each other's company and dancing together and partying together and living together and sleeping together and cooking together.' 'That's not going to stop just because they say we should be unhappy.' Dawn Melody realized that she might be trans later in life – after her son came out first. In 2012, her 12-year-old told her he was transgender. Melody, trusting her children to 'tell [her] who they are,' quickly affirmed his identity, supporting him as he cut his hair and came out to friends and family. 'Watching that young person go on to bravely be who they are' was 'inspiring,' she said. And a few years later, it inspired her own soul-searching. Melody had long harbored an ineffable feeling that 'something was different.' But growing up in an Irish Catholic household in Westchester, New York, being queer was off the table – and 'the idea of transgender, that was like being from another planet,' she told CNN. In her 50s, Melody, still searching for the source of that constant feeling of 'difference,' sought out women's clothes and a wig to test-drive presenting as a woman at home. That first trial felt 'miraculous,' she said. Melody said that she had ultimately been inspired by her son's 'steadfast' commitment to his identity. 'This is me taking the cue from my child that that if you're brave enough to do this, so am I,' she said. When Trump first began signing anti-trans legislation in January, she felt 'nausea.' 'He declared it during his inauguration speech that I don't exist,' she said. 'That I'm undesirable.' Melody framed the executive orders as 'frantically trying to sweep back the sea when the sea can't be swept back.' But 'there's no way to stop progress,' she said. And despite the attacks, being trans is 'the best thing that ever happened to me,' she added. 'I'm glad that I am this way, and I wouldn't change it for all the tea in China,' she said. Living as a woman feels like 'swimming with the current' after decades of fighting to swim across it, she said. She added that she hopes trans youth today can keep faith in themselves despite a wave of anti-trans sentiment and legislation. 'It's not without its moments of horror and fear, but life is such a gift – and it's way too short.'
