I’m proud Miami Beach is standing up against anti-immigrant rhetoric | Opinion

On Wednesday, the city of Miami Beach did something powerful.

With unanimous support, the city commission adopted a resolution I sponsored condemning the use of dangerous and dehumanizing rhetoric against immigrants.

This resolution doesn’t concern itself with partisan politics or border policy. It doesn’t call for open borders, nor does it question the need for lawful and orderly immigration. It draws a moral line — one that people of conscience, regardless of party, should be able to agree on.

It says: “The Miami Beach mayor and commission strongly oppose dehumanizing and violent rhetoric targeting immigrants, including the Alligator Alcatraz detention facility and statements by national leaders and is affirming the dignity and contributions of Hispanic and immigrant families in Miami Beach...”

This resolution makes Miami Beach one of the first cities in Florida to formally oppose Alligator Alcatraz and the national political discourse that supports it.

I understand the complexity of immigration in this country. And I welcome robust, even passionate debate about how to fix the system. But that debate cannot happen if we begin by stripping people of their human dignity.

If we can agree to speak with respect about immigrants, we may clear away enough of the static to begin a more thoughtful, less performative conversation about real solutions.

As a proud son of Cuban exiles, I grew up with a deep appreciation for the promise of this country — and I’ve always worn my roots with pride. But today, I meet people who feel the need to hide theirs — not out of shame, but out of fear.

That fear is not a reflection of their character — it’s a reflection of ours. It means the promise of America that once welcomed my family is slipping further out of reach.

That promise now feels endangered by a rising tide of anti-immigrant rhetoric designed not to inform, but to inflame.

Political leaders have repeatedly referred to immigrants as “animals,” “vermin,” “poison” and “parasites.” That’s not just offensive — it’s dangerous.

We’re seeing the consequences unfold. I have constituents — law-abiding immigrants — who are afraid to call 911, afraid to seek medical attention, even afraid to show up for a court hearing. Others, including TPS and DACA recipients, and young professionals like doctors with valid work permits, live in constant fear that their lives will be uprooted.

Some are being held in detention facilities under conditions no American would accept for themselves or their loved ones — no access to attorneys, limited medical care, no clergy, family separation and stripped of hope.

The people experiencing this are not faceless hypotheticals — and they are not all criminals, as some political rhetoric suggests. These are our neighbors. They cared for our aging loved ones, taught music to children, built our homes and contributed in countless ways to our community.

Local businesses are struggling to retain talented immigrant workers. Immigrant tourists — vital to our economy — are being driven away by the growing sense that they’re unwelcome. Words have real consequences.

For months, I’ve struggled with the limits of what I can do legally. As a Hispanic elected official, I’ve wanted to do so much more — but the laws are real, and my fear has always been that even well-intentioned efforts could invite retaliation that harms the very people I want to protect.

In the absence of stronger protections, this resolution is about doing what I still can — standing up for dignity.

We are also answering the call of faith and humanity. Days ago, Miami Archbishop Thomas Wenski reminded us of Pope Francis’s teaching in Fratelli Tutti — “we belong to one another.” That truth must guide our words, especially in moments like these.

In his homily, the Archbishop recalled the haunting moment when political leaders stood before cages at the makeshift detention center and made light of the fear and pain of those inside. He asked if we could truly say, in that moment, that “we belong to one another,” that the dignity of others was being recognized.

I believe that this week, Miami Beach answered that question with moral clarity.

Alex Fernandez is a Miami Beach commissioner.