For over nine months now, I’ve tried to remember a single moment in my life that truly made me scream like I did on March 25, 2025. That was the date masked agents — most of them men — stole me off the sidewalk and the first time I ever screamed out loud. My two-minute scream is forever preserved online, embedded in legal documents and essays written by opinion writers, students, and strangers. It feels unbearably heavy, especially for someone who is always in control and almost never raises their voice.
