The city in which I serve as a councilor is not a sanctuary city; however, it adopted a welcoming city solution back in 2017. It affirmed us as an immigrant-friendly city and made clear that our police should not detain or arrest people based on their nationality or ethnicity, nor seek proof of a person's citizenship status, and should not assist other agencies in immigration matters.

That resolution mattered. It sent a message that our city values all people who live here, that we recognize the contributions of immigrants, and that we would not turn neighbors into suspects based on who they are.

But in the times we find ourselves, the resolution may be worth another look. Does it protect us all enough?

Even asking to have that discussion has brought up a phrase a few times: Why should we bring this forward and poke the bear? We're not like the bigger cities in our state that have affirmed sanctuary status; maybe we can just stay under the radar.

Except the bear is already here.

I have heard that phrase in city government, but I also recognize it from other arenas. It's in newsrooms where journalists debate whether to publish a story that could spark outrage from the owners of the paper. It's in classrooms where teachers hesitate to assign a book that might draw a complaint. I hear it in my own head when I write certain sentences and debate if I should. A column on empathy received spiteful responses of anger. It's where we are.

Don't poke the bear. Stay safe. Let it pass. Except, it never passes. The bear never leaves.

When people tell me not to stir things up, I understand what they're trying to avoid. They want calm. They want to believe that if we do not draw attention, conflict will skip over us. But silence is not peace. Silence is surrender. Every time we choose quiet over clarity, the bear gets bolder. Every book pulled from a shelf, every headline softened into mush, every ordinance shelved because it might be too "controversial," that is the bear feeding on our hesitation.

This is how censorship works in America today. It rarely comes with a sudden ban or a dramatic raid. It arrives through pressure, fear, and exhaustion. It convinces us that it is easier to give ground than to fight. It tells us that if we just hold still, the claws will miss us. But the claws always find us.

I know the weight of those decisions. As a councilor, I was elected to represent people, not to keep them comfortable. That means facing hard conversations about who belongs in our community and what protections we are willing to extend. It means acknowledging that when rights and dignity are on the line, waiting quietly in the corner is not neutrality. It is complicity.

And the truth is, this is bigger than immigration policy. The same fear that whispers "don't poke the bear" in city chambers is the one that pushes teachers to remove books from their classrooms. It is the same fear that pushes journalists to water down their reporting. It is the same fear that keeps citizens from speaking openly about what they see around them.

It all stems from the same place: an understanding that there will be consequences for telling the truth, and a hope that if we remain silent, the storm will pass. But history has never rewarded silence. Not for the press, not for teachers, not for elected officials, and not for everyday citizens.

I know it carries risks. Speaking up always does. Raising immigrant protections in a city that already calls itself welcoming will bring blowback. Naming censorship for what it is will too. But the greater risk is pretending we can avoid conflict by staying under the radar. The bear is already in the room, and silence will not make it leave.

When I think about the welcoming city resolution, as a city with the fabric of immigration in its soul, I see it as a line in the sand, one that affirms who we are as a community. The debate we face now is whether we are willing to hold that line or whether we will allow fear to decide for us.

The only defense we have is to speak and act with clarity. To tell the truth, even when it stings, we must refuse to let intimidation and fatigue set the boundaries of our imagination.

The more the bear growls, the louder we have to be. The only choice left is whether we stand up to it now or ask for civility as it mauls all those around us before it comes for us, too.

Cassie McClure is a writer, millennial, and unapologetic fan of the Oxford comma. She can be contacted at cassie@mcclurepublications.com. To learn more about Cassie McClure and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.

Photo credit: Zden?k Machá?ek at Unsplash