Leqaa Kordia’s journey to the United States was meant to be a reunion, a fresh start after years apart from her mother. Instead, it has turned into a legal and humanitarian ordeal that has drawn national and international attention. On March 13, 2025, the 32-year-old Muslim Palestinian woman—who has called the U.S. home for years—was detained by immigration authorities, a move that advocates say reflects a chilling pattern of repression against those speaking out for Palestinian rights.
According to Amnesty International, Leqaa’s arrest came on the heels of her participation in an April 2024 protest outside Columbia University in New York, where demonstrators gathered to voice opposition to Israel’s actions in Gaza. Police ordered the crowd to disperse, and Leqaa, among others, was arrested. The charges were later dropped, but the consequences would linger far longer than a night in jail. As Leqaa worked to secure her legal residency—her family-based visa petition had already been approved in 2021—she voluntarily met with officials at the Newark ICE Field Office. Instead of a routine check-in, she was detained on the spot and transferred that night to the Prairieland Detention Facility in Texas, hundreds of miles from her family and lawyer.
Leqaa’s case is unfolding against the backdrop of a fiercely contested U.S. immigration landscape, one that has become even more fraught since President Trump issued two Executive Orders in January 2025. These orders called for the arrest, detention, and deportation of non-citizens who publicly supported Palestinian rights—a move condemned by Amnesty International as both discriminatory and repressive. Immigration authorities began targeting individuals linked to pro-Palestinian protests, including Leqaa, whose 2024 arrest record was obtained from the NYPD.
Her detention has not only separated her from her loved ones but also exposed her to a host of human rights violations. At Prairieland, Leqaa’s religious rights have been repeatedly ignored: she has received almost no halal meals, leading to significant weight loss; during Ramadan, staff refused to let her save food for when she could break her fast, forcing her to either go hungry or break her fast early. She has not been provided with appropriate clothing for prayer or a clean space to pray, and staff have failed to announce when male officers enter her dormitory while she is without her hijab. These conditions, advocates argue, are not just administrative oversights but fundamental violations of her rights.
Adding to the gravity of her situation, Leqaa has lost about 175 family members during what many international bodies—among them the International Court of Justice (ICJ), the United Nations, Amnesty International, and Human Rights Watch—have described as potentially genocidal actions by Israel in Gaza. The ICJ, in early 2024, ruled that Palestinians face a real risk of genocide and ordered Israel to prevent such acts. A recent United Nations inquiry concluded that Israel’s conduct amounts to genocide, and similar warnings have been echoed by leading human rights organizations. For Leqaa, the personal and political are inextricably linked: her activism is fueled by grief, solidarity, and an urgent sense of justice.
Her legal battle continues to unfold in Texas. Since April 2025, two judges have ordered her release on a $20,000 bond, recognizing that she poses no threat and has no criminal history. Yet, both times, Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) has blocked her release by filing automatic and discretionary stays. Leqaa is now seeking release through federal court, her fate hanging in the balance as advocates and family members press for her freedom.
Leqaa’s ordeal is not an isolated case. Across North America and beyond, activists advocating for Palestinian rights are facing new risks. In Canada, Khurram Musti Khan, a resident of Halton, recently returned home after a harrowing experience at the hands of Israeli forces. Khan was one of six Canadian activists detained while participating in a flotilla aimed at delivering humanitarian aid to Gaza and challenging Israel’s blockade. According to the Toronto Star, the group’s vessel set sail from Otranto, Italy, on September 30, 2025, after two days of training. Their mission was clear: break what they described as an “illegal siege” on Gaza and deliver desperately needed supplies.
Life aboard the Conscience vessel was far from comfortable. “We were sleeping on the floor… It wasn’t that comfortable,” Khan recalled, describing rough seas, cramped quarters, and persistent motion sickness. But the group was prepared to endure hardship for the cause. On October 8, 2025, about 120 nautical miles from Gaza’s coast in international waters, their journey was abruptly halted. Israeli helicopters hovered overhead, drones circled, and armed commandos boarded the ship from both air and sea. “They conducted a major operation on a civilian vessel like ours, which was a bit surprising,” Khan told Toronto Star. Passengers were detained for several hours on board, zip-tied, blindfolded, and held on their knees for about 45 minutes during processing—a moment Khan described as “very painful.”
Refusing food and water as a form of protest, Khan and the others were eventually released two days later and flown to Turkey before making their way home. The experience, he said, has only strengthened his resolve. “The struggle is not over yet,” Khan insisted, expressing skepticism about the prospects of a U.S.-brokered ceasefire and vowing that missions would continue “until the siege is broken and Palestine is free.”
Back in Canada, Khan has been active in forming advocacy groups, such as Friends of Palestine Canada and the Milton Palestine Action Committee, organizing protests and public meetings since October 2023, when the war in Gaza escalated. He, like Leqaa, believes that international pressure is essential—and that silence is not an option. “We’ve been protesting for the last two years,” Khan said, urging the government to “take certain actions to stop this genocide.”
Meanwhile, the Canadian government has stated its support for the ICJ process but has refrained from taking a definitive stance until a final judgment is reached. This measured approach has frustrated some activists, who see it as insufficient in the face of mounting evidence and urgent humanitarian need.
For Leqaa Kordia, the stakes could not be higher. In addition to her family-based petition for permanent residency, she has filed for asylum, withholding of removal, and protection under the Convention Against Torture. Before her detention, she lived in New Jersey, caring for family members with health issues and disabilities. Her supporters argue that she deserves freedom, dignity, and the right to continue her life safely with her loved ones.
As international scrutiny intensifies and grassroots movements grow louder, the stories of Leqaa Kordia and Khurram Musti Khan serve as powerful reminders of the human toll of geopolitical conflict—and the enduring power of personal conviction in the face of adversity.