January 24, 2026

I want to address something that has been present in our lab for some time, even if it has not always been spoken aloud.

People are scared.

Some of you are U.S. citizens. Some of you are not. Some of you hold visas, follow the law carefully, and still feel uneasy about traveling to conferences or visiting family, or even about moving through everyday life. This fear is not abstract. It affects careers, relationships, and mental health. It also affects whether people feel safe planning their future.

I feel it too. I am a naturalized U.S. citizen, and before that I lived in this country on a J-1 visa, an H-1B visa, and later a green card. I am not immune to what is happening around us.

What I want to be very clear about is this: the fear many of you are experiencing is not about legality or wrongdoing. It is about unpredictability. It is about a growing sense that rules may be applied unevenly, that professionalism cannot be assumed, and that outcomes are harder to anticipate than they should be. That kind of uncertainty is deeply destabilizing, especially for people who have done everything right.

I cannot fix policy. I cannot guarantee anyone’s safety in a world that feels increasingly volatile. I cannot remove the structural forces that create this uncertainty. Pretending otherwise would be dishonest.

But I also do not believe that silence is neutral.

When institutions—or people in leadership positions—choose to stay silent in moments like this, that silence can feel like abandonment, even when it is framed as professionalism or restraint. Silence may avoid controversy, but it does not reduce fear. Often, it amplifies it.

So I want to say this explicitly.

In this lab, I value you not only for your scientific contributions but also as people. I value dignity, fairness, and legality. I value the fact that science only works when people feel secure enough to think, take intellectual risks, and build long-term plans. I reject the idea that fear is something individuals should quietly absorb on their own.

That does not mean I have answers. It does mean I am paying attention.

Science has always been done in imperfect, sometimes frightening times. Even during wars and periods of political upheaval, scientists continued to work—not because they were unaffected, but because advancing knowledge required persistence and care even under pressure. At the same time, scientists are human. Fear, frustration, and uncertainty do not invalidate the work; they are part of the context in which the work is done.

What I can promise is this: I will not ask you to pretend everything is fine when it is not. I will not equate professionalism with emotional silence. I will try to be clear in my actions and fair in my decisions, even when outcomes cannot be equal or predictable. And I will continue to run this lab in a way that prioritizes careful, honest science and respect for the people doing it.

If you are unsure about travel, career decisions, or how to navigate the current moment, you are not weak for feeling that way. You are responding rationally to uncertainty. My door—whether physical or virtual—remains open.

We cannot control the world outside the lab, but we can control how we treat each other inside it. In times like these, clarity, honesty, and mutual respect matter more than silence.