Alligator Spirit, Immigrant Strength

In recent months, politicians and developers have deployed the phrase “Alligator Alcatraz” to brand their proposed immigrant detention center deep in the Florida Everglades. The term drips with calculated menace — designed to conjure images of snarling reptiles, dark waters, and a swamp so treacherous that no one could ever escape.

It’s a narrative meant to terrify. A narrative meant to justify cages. A narrative meant to brand migrants as threats who must be hidden away, out of sight, in the most hostile landscape possible.

But here’s what that narrative gets utterly wrong:

The alligator — the creature these fearmongers weaponize as a symbol of danger — is in truth a profound emblem of survival, protection, and balance.

The female alligator is one of the fiercest mothers in the animal kingdom. She guards her nest with unwavering devotion, defending her eggs and hatchlings against predators. She carries her young gently in her jaws, ferrying them safely through the waters. Far from being mindless monsters, alligators are complex animals that have survived on this Earth for over 150 million years — outlasting dinosaurs, ice ages, and near extinction at the hands of humans.

Ecologically, alligators are keystone species. They dig deep holes that hold water during droughts, creating life-saving refuges for fish, birds, turtles, and countless other animals. These “alligator holes” become vital oases in the dry season, sustaining entire ecosystems. Without alligators, the balance of life in the Everglades would collapse.

To twist the alligator into a symbol of fear — to brand an immigrant detention center as “Alligator Alcatraz” — is to betray both the animal’s true nature and the truth of the land itself.

Because like the alligator, immigrants are survivors. Many have crossed treacherous terrain, fleeing violence, poverty, and persecution, in search of safety for themselves and their children. They are parents who protect, communities who rebuild, workers who sustain entire economies, dreamers who carry new ideas and new life.

To cage them in the middle of the swamp, under the guise of public safety or national security, is not about justice. It’s about using fear — the same way the myth of the monstrous alligator is used — to justify cruelty and profit.

But the swamp, like the alligator, holds truth deeper than propaganda. It’s a place of resilience. A place of rebirth. A place where fierce mothers defend their young.

The alligator has been hunted to the brink of extinction before — and survived. So too will the communities fighting to protect our wetlands and to free those who are criminalized simply for seeking a better life.

The alligator isn’t a monster. Neither are the people locked away behind barbed wire in the name of fear.

It’s time to tell a different story.