This article was adapted from the Oct. 30 edition of our members-only RESHAPE newsletter. New editions drop every week. Sign up here.
For the first time in my journalism career, I was tear-gassed. It happened on Oct. 14 in Chicago’s East Side neighborhood. Exposure to teargas is unlike anything I’ve experienced before. I witnessed Chicago police pepper spray into a crowd of demonstrators in 2020 during the Decolonize Zhigagoong Defund CPD rally in Grant Park, and some of the pepper spray landed on my skin while I was at the demonstration.
The pepper spray made my skin itchy and raw, as if I’d fallen into a pool of rubbing alcohol with open wounds on my body. But the smoke from the teargas was even more intense. The teargas traveled quickly, and made it hard for me to breathe. My eyes started stinging immediately. My throat felt raw; my nose runny.
That day, Sen. Robert Peters (D-13) posted to Instagram that ICE agents were spotted on the Southeast Side. I called Sen. Peters and he answered right away, telling me there were between 40 and 50 federal agents in the middle of 105th Street and Avenue N. He told me his staff was there and gave me the name of a community organizer to connect with.
I’m no stranger to this side of Chicago; I used to live in Calumet Heights, which is about 10 minutes away. I’ve eaten at Los Tres Amigos #2 and Birrieria Ocotlán, and I shopped at some of the local grocery stores in the area.
I arrived at the scene just after 12:30 p.m., and I could see helicopters hovering above 105th Street and Avenue N. I started to feel anxious and uneasy, but I knew it was important to capture what was happening.
There were multiple Chicago police cars parked on East 106th Street. I took a quick video of one of the helicopters circling overhead and grabbed my backpack with safety gear inside. I saw four young women walking in the same direction as me and asked them if they knew what had happened here. They told me that a young Black man had been detained outside of the nearby Walgreens, that ICE agents were chasing someone in a car and had gotten into an accident at the corner we were walking to.
Community members were outside and visibly upset. One of the young women told me that people in the crowd had thrown non-lethal things — reportedly an egg, small bottles or something similar — in protest before my arrival. Federal agents responded with teargas.
As I walked down 106th Street and Avenue M and rounded the corner onto 105th Street and Avenue N, I saw a large group of people in a standoff with dozens of federal agents — in military fatigues and some in gas masks. The agents stood in the middle of the intersection at 105th Street and Avenue N. It was loud; people were shouting, telling the agents “to get the f—ck out.”
It was my first time being face-to-face with federal agents.
One of the girls I spoke with thought their friend had been detained, so they walked away. I made my way through the crowd to the frontline to see what was going on with the standoff. Chicago police were there. They positioned themselves in front of federal agents. Chicago Police Department Supt. Larry Snelling has repeatedly said that officers won’t interfere with federal enforcement operations. But the cops’ positioning that day seemed as if they were there to protect the federal agents from the residents.
By the time I got to the frontline, I started recording video on my phone. I saw an object fly through the air from behind me. Seconds later, I heard someone in the crowd say, “watch out, watch out, they’re throwing another one.”
Then came multiple tear gas canisters.
Federal agents threw teargas without a care in the world. They did so despite U.S. District Judge Sara Ellis having issued a temporary restraining order (TRO) five days prior, which bars them from “dispersing, arresting, threatening to arrest, threatening or using physical force against any person whom they should reasonably know is a journalist” who aren’t posing a threat. There were no de-escalation techniques or dispersal orders issued during my time there.
Federal agents deployed teargas on everyday people in the middle of a residential street. It wasn’t a war zone.
Instantly, the air smelled smoky. It became hard for me to breathe and keep my eyes open. I tried to capture as much as I could on video, but I needed to catch my breath. I had to walk away from the thickening smoke. I wasn’t wearing a gas mask or goggles.
I stopped and sat in the grass mid-block. My chest and throat were on fire. I felt nauseous. My eyes were burning and tearing up, and my nose was running. Other photojournalists stopped near me to ask if I was OK. Another journalist near me also felt the effects of the tear gas. A neighbor across from us asked if we were OK and then tossed us bottles of water from her porch.
Then another woman approached me on the lawn and asked me if I was OK. I don’t remember answering. She came outside of her home with a bowl of fresh water and helped me rinse out my eyes. She patted my eyes with her shirt. I noticed that she was crying too. Her daughter also approached to help. (Here’s a photograph of the woman helping me, taken by a Washington Post photographer.)
After a few minutes of rinsing my eyes, the stinging stopped. The woman insisted that I come and sit on the porch with them for a few minutes until I felt better. She even hugged me. Her daughter gave me a can of Squirt. A family immediately sprang into action to take care of me, a total stranger. I will never get over that act of kindness and care. She helped others on the block who needed help, too.
After experiencing what I did and being face-to-face with federal agents, I walked away believing in the power of people again. I also thought it was incredibly brave for community members of this predominantly-Latino neighborhood to confront these intimidating federal agents in such a way. They resisted and demanded that the feds leave their community. They documented what happened on their cellphones. I will never get over the irony of federal agents not caring about everyday people nor the local cops who were right there as they deployed teargas.
When I was ready to leave, I thanked the mom and the daughter. I gave them hugs and walked to my car.
A group of young people, probably no older than 20, set up on the corner of East 106th Street and Avenue N. They held anti-ICE signs and blasted music. As vehicles traveled down the busy corridor, they honked their horns in solidarity. This community wasn’t letting what happened stop them from having an impromptu demonstration.
I’m happy to report today that I’m feeling good, and I’m so appreciative of the love and messages of support I’ve received over the last two weeks. As I spoke with other people in my inner circle about the experience, I heard a similar refrain: residents shouldn’t have thrown things at federal agents. While I understand their sentiments, it makes me question who’s allowed to express righteous anger.
For hours that day, federal agents terrorized that East Side community. They violently detained a young Black man for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. They also intentionally hit a car reportedly with undocumented immigrants in it, using an illegal police maneuver to stop their car in the middle of a block without considering the safety and well-being of everyone else around them.
Oppressed people are always told to take the high road, to do everything by the book, and they’ll be safe. But what we’re seeing in Chicago and elsewhere is that your legal status doesn’t matter, nor does a clean record equal protection.
They are indiscriminately detaining people who are Black. They are indiscriminately detaining people who are brown. They are teargassing neighborhoods, regardless if there are children, schools or elders present. They are detaining and charging U.S. citizens who dissent.
The Trump administration is targeting our communities, and it’s up to us to look out for one another and keep each other safe. If you’d like to support the work of me and my colleagues, please consider making a contribution today or encourage someone to join this RESHAPE newsletter.
