Certainly, living with a sense of insecurity is a real ingratitude. We all want to move freely, to walk fearlessly through our parks, to go through darker spaces without fear, unless we come home with our whole things. Insecurity is a real problem and minimizing it aggravates the consequences.

However, these states of alarm and neighborhood initiatives around insecurity are leaving out of analysis and dialogue these other young people, who position themselves as "quinqués and criminals", but never as young people who are also members of our community. They speak a language that we may not understand, we don't know our parents or have been in the neighborhood for a short time, but they're our neighbors, they're also our young people. The only difference is that they are trapped in harder economic conditions than our other young people, who go to university, who are engaged in domestic tasks and who participate in sports teams, who do not cause problems (Oiga! Sometimes our young people also create problems! ).

They're called Rachid, Youssef, Omar, Abdelhakim, Mohammed ... Many of them arrived when they were children, at the age of 10, 12, full of dreams that led them to cross borders. They dreamed of a safer life, of the possibility of learning and becoming doctors, engineers or teachers. They dreamed of a future to help families and find a place to share something bigger.

They dreamed of making friends, learning a new language and feeling welcome. They thought they could build a more dignified life here, far from the poverty and uncertainty that escaped. But when they arrived, they faced a more difficult reality: a society that perceives indifference, closed doors and mistrust, as if they did not also belong to this place in which they live.

"They have dirty eyes. A look that reflects the crux of a reality that is hard to look at. This look hides the scars of having grown up in the street, stripped of everything, beyond the backpack that characterizes them so much. The view of experiencing what it means to live in inhumane conditions, in margins at risk of poverty, marginalization and permanent violation of human, economic, social and cultural rights.

They are seen as a problem, but the truth is that they are victims of a system which has driven them out of their countries of origin and which, once here, leaves them without direction. They're the last, invisible. Nobody. Those who have failed. Nobody wants them, nobody looks at them, they are turned blind and, in many cases, they are the target of hatred and rejection. It seems that all the frustration and social unrest precipitates upon them, and no one stops to reflect on the deep damage they also suffer, the fear they live every day, the despair they hide behind such uncomfortable eyes.

"That doesn't justify crime," they'll say. Of course not. Insecurity is a real problem. And I'm also afraid. But at least bringing their realities to this equation should help us to look with less hatred and more tenderness, to channel our security demands from a more constructive and inclusive perspective, more coherent in a society that wants to be civilized, democratic and welcoming. It is not difficult to realize that we need to go beyond the expulsion of the examination and address the problem from a human rights perspective. You don't have to be a genius to understand that exclusion and rejection only create a nursery that perpetuates conflict and insecurity, rather than solving it.

In this precariousness of societies, where the fragmentation of the community is exacerbated, the most dangerous is not fear, but the way in which we manage. When fear breaks the bonds of the community, instead of seeing the other as a part of the same fabric, it leads us to see ourselves as enemies, we are condemning our society and our young people to the abyss.

We must, of course, understand and value the insecurity that citizens are manifesting, not deny it, because it is real and affects our daily lives. But I don't want to hear answers like, "Take yourself home." Because it's not about taking him home.

To the institutions: they are obliged to offer solutions that go beyond the pure securitization of the streets. You need to give more sophisticated and more humane answers, to grasp the roots of the problem, to generate real possibilities for inclusion and to put the well-being of the whole community at the centre. The challenge is to build a society that guarantees rights and dignity, not just control and care. It's urgent. No delays.

We cannot continue to build a society where there will always be people who stand as foreigners, who have no possibility, condemned to repel our frustrations and fears. It cannot be that dinners for people in situations of residential exclusion are given by organized and collective neighbors, ensuring a hot dish every day. I am proud to belong to a community that organizes itself in solidarity and prepares hundreds of dinners every day, but that task is the responsibility of the institutions.

By the way, there are also those citizens. They're also organized, mobilized. And that's the society that I want: the community that takes care of itself, but also demands that those who have to take responsibility assume that responsibility.

Our society must rise to the challenge of building a future based on respect for human rights, inclusion and solidarity. Let's work the experience of fear from a common place. Because fear, in its essence, unites us all. Fear is what we share, even if they come from different places: the fear of insecurity, of the unknown, of the loss of what we have, and also the fear of the invisible, of not being, of being marginalized and forgotten. In that common space of terror, we can begin to build bridges rather than walls, and there we find the possibility of knowing ourselves in the vulnerability of the other. Only that response will humanize us as a society; the rest of the possible responses will only dehumanize others and lose us humanity.

Solidarity is the tenderness of the peoples, let us not forget it.

Maitane Arnoso-Martínez, President of Sos Racism Gipuzkoa.