Alligator Alley: Trump’s American Gulag and the Cowards Who Built It

Dear Readers,

Let’s not sugarcoat it. Let’s not play nice. Let’s not “both sides” this. Let’s call it exactly what it is: a concentration camp built on American soil.

Trump’s so-called Alligator Alley Detention Center in Florida is not just a stain on our national conscience—it’s a festering wound of authoritarian cruelty. A desolate, militarized stretch of swamp turned into an American gulag, complete with barbed wire, floodlights, surveillance drones, and the stench of fascism thick in the humid air.

This is not a holding facility. This is not about border security. This is not immigration policy.

This is punishment. This is revenge. This is state-sanctioned sadism.

What kind of twisted monsters decide the best way to deal with desperate families, teenagers, asylum seekers, political dissidents, or “undesirables” is to drop them into a mosquito-infested inferno, surrounded by gators and guards, with no legal recourse, no access to clean water or medical care, and no hope of escape?

Donald Trump and Ron DeSantis, that’s who.

Two bloodless, soulless men who mistake cruelty for power and incompetence for leadership.

Trump—an indicted insurrectionist, convicted criminal, and lifelong conman—has decided the Constitution is optional. He talks about human rights like they’re a joke. He smiles as children are ripped from their parents. He brags about building camps like they’re luxury resorts. He federalized the National Guard not to protect Americans, but to intimidate them. To disappear them.

And then there’s Ron DeSantis—Florida’s little tinpot dictator—who turned his state into a fascist theme park. Book bans. Forced births. Drag show crackdowns. Transgender erasure. Censorship in classrooms. And now, the crown jewel of his depraved legacy: an internment camp in the Everglades, complete with press blackouts, barbed wire, and chemical toilets baking under the sun.

Don’t you dare call it patriotic.

Don’t you dare say this is “for our protection.”

Don’t you dare hide behind “law and order.”

You know who else used those phrases?

Every dictator who ever erected fences around people they feared.

And let’s not forget the grotesque cheerleaders of this nightmare—Kristi Noem, who’d likely volunteer to hunt down escapees herself if she wasn’t too busy shooting puppies and smiling for Fox News.

This is who they are.

These are not leaders.

These are not Christians.

These are not Americans in any sense that would make the Founders proud.

They are cowards.

They are fascists.

They are executioners hiding behind flag pins and Bible verses.

And what’s more terrifying? The millions cheering them on.

The MAGA base that calls themselves patriots while they demand loyalty oaths.

Who wave their flags and salute like zombies while families are locked in cages.

Who call people “illegals” as if that erases their humanity.

Who look at a camp in the swamps of Florida and see a “solution,” not a damn disgrace.

We are not “approaching” authoritarianism—we are living in it.

You don’t need to wait for jackboots in the streets. They’re already here—just wearing polos and Ray-Bans in the Florida sun.

If you are not enraged, you are not paying attention.

If you are not organizing, you are enabling.

And if you are not ashamed of what is happening under that red, white, and blue banner—you have lost your soul.

This is the moment we will be judged for.

Not just by history books—if we’re still allowed to write them—but by our children, our communities, and our own damn consciences.

Alligator Alley must be shut down.

The men who built it must be held accountable.

The cowards who defended it must be shamed.

And those who suffered within its fences must be seen, heard, freed—and compensated.

I will not celebrate this country while it runs camps.

I will not salute a flag that flies over torture.

I will not stay silent while evil wraps itself in patriotism.

This is not America.

But it’s what we’ve become.

Unless we rise.

Unless we scream.

Unless we fight back now, with everything we’ve got.

This isn’t politics anymore.

This is survival.

No more hiding.

No more hoping.

No more complicity.

In fury and in solidarity,

Julie Bolejack, MBA

(An American who refuses to look away)