On February 3, Aliya Rahman — a U.S. citizen and resident of Minneapolis, Minnesota — testified before a bicameral public forum at the Dirksen Senate Office Building in Washington, D.C.

The session on the violent tactics and use of force by agents of the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) was convened by U.S. senator Richard Blumenthal (Democrat, Connecticut) and U.S. congressman Robert Garcia (Democrat, California). Other testimony came from Miramar Martinez, who was shot five times by DHS agents in Chicago, Illinois, and from family members of Renee Nicole Good, who was murdered by an Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agent in Minneapolis on January 7.

Rahman, who is autistic and has a traumatic brain injury, was on her way to a doctor’s appointment on January 13. She got stuck in a traffic jam created by an ICE operation in Minneapolis; Rahman was dragged from her vehicle by federal agents, cuffed, and taken to the Whipple federal building, where ICE processes immigrants targeted for deportation.

At Whipple, Rahman witnessed first-hand the brutality that so many others have faced. Denied medical care, she blacked out in a cell as her cellmate pleaded for help.

“I am extremely distressed by the pattern that violence from law enforcement has been happening to Black and indigenous communities for centuries, and to DHS survivors for over 20 years,” Rahman said during her testimony.

“We call ourselves a civilized nation,” she said, “but we lack rules and accountability around what a person claiming to be law enforcement is permitted do to another human being.”

“I am not afraid,” Rahman declared. “And I am not afraid to keep working on this problem even after ICE is gone.”

Rahman’s full testimony is a devastating, personal account that exposes as blatant lies the Trump administration claims they are targeting “criminal aliens” in their anti-immigrant crackdown.

Watch Rahman tell her story in the video below. The transcript that follows has been edited by World-Outlook based on that video footage. We are publishing these materials for the information of our readers.

— World-Outlook editors

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Transcript of testimony of Aliya Rahman at Bicameral Congressional Public Forum on DHS Violence

Aliya Rahman: Thank you, members, for taking time to be here today. And thank you staff for making this happen.

My name is Aliya Rahman, and I am a resident of south Minneapolis. I am a Bangladeshi American born in northern Wisconsin, and I’m a disabled person with autism and a traumatic brain injury.

Not all autistic brains do this, but mine fixates on sounds, numbers, and patterns. And while what the world saw happen to me exactly three weeks ago today on video was a terrible violation, it is still nothing compared to the horrific practices I saw inside the Whipple Center. So I am here today with a duty to the people who have not had the privilege of coming home. I offer this data because these practices must end… now!

On January 13th, on the way to my 39th appointment at Hennepin County’s Traumatic Brain Injury Center, I encountered a traffic jam caused by ICE vehicles and no signs indicating how to get around it. I had not wanted to pull into a blocked, chaotic intersection, but verbally agreed to do so and rolled down my window after an agent yelled: “MOVE. I WILL BREAK YOUR F***ING WINDOW!” … his first instruction.

Agents on all sides of my vehicle yelled conflicting threats and instructions that I could not process while watching for pedestrians. Then, the glass of the passenger side window flew across my face. I yelled “I’m disabled!” at the hands grabbing me. And an agent said, “TOO LATE.”

I felt immersed in a pattern, and I thought of Jenoah Donald, an autistic Black man killed by police during a traffic stop in 2021. I remembered Mr. Silverio Villegas González, who was killed by ICE in his vehicle last year.

An agent pulled a large combat knife in front of my face, which I thought was for cutting me and later learned was used to cut off my seatbelt.

Shooting pain went through my head, neck, and wrists when I hit the ground face first and people leaned on my back. I felt the pattern and I thought of Mr. George Floyd, who was killed four blocks away. I was carried face down through the street by my cuffed arms and legs while yelling that I had a brain injury and was disabled. I now cannot lift my arms normally.

I was never asked for ID, never told I was under arrest, never read my rights, and never charged with a crime.

Approaching the Whipple Center, I saw Black and brown bodies shackled together, chained together, being marched by yelling agents outdoors. I continue to hear the word “bodies,” because that is how agents refer to us. “We’re bringing in a body.” “They’re bringing in bodies 7, 8 at a time! Where do I put ‘em?” “We can’t use that room; there’s already a body in there.”

You have no reason to believe you will make it out alive if you are already being called a body.

Agents repeatedly had to stop and ask how to do tasks. I received no medical screening, phone call, or access to a lawyer. I was denied a communication navigator when my speech began to slur. Agents laughed as I tried to immobilize my own neck. I asked for my cane and was told no, pulled up by my arms, and prodded forward in leg irons by an agent saying, “Walk! You can do it. Walk.” Agents did not know if the facility had a wheelchair. When I was finally placed in one to be taken to interrogation, an agent taunted: “You were driving right? So your legs do work.”

I pleaded for emergency medical care for over an hour after my vision had become blurry, my heart rate went through the roof, and the pain in my neck and head became unbearable. It was denied.

When I became unable to speak, my cell mate pleaded for me. The last sounds I remember before I blacked out on the cell floor were my cellmate banging on the door, pleading for a medic, and a voice outside saying, “We don’t want to step on ICE’s toes.”

When I opened my eyes at Hennepin County’s emergency room, I learned I was brought there to be treated for assault.

The impacts of DHS detention on my physical, mental, and financial well being and safety have been very severe. But I do not deserve more humane treatment than anyone else, U.S. citizen or not. And I am here today with a strong spirit and a duty to the many people who haven’t had the privilege to tell their stories or seeing their loved ones come home.

I am extremely distressed by the pattern that violence from law enforcement has been happening to Black and indigenous communities for centuries, and to DHS survivors for over 20 years.

We call ourselves a civilized nation, but we lack rules and accountability around what a person claiming to be law enforcement is permitted do to another human being.

I am not afraid, and I am not afraid to keep working on this problem even after ICE is gone.

Thank you for your time.

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