Kurdish activist describes force-feeding in ICE detention as 'mentally broke me'

Gabar Choli suffered severe physical injuries including esophageal damage, internal bleeding, and swollen sinuses, plus documented psychological trauma from eight months of forced feeding in detention.
It just broke me, mentally broke me.
Choli describes the eight-month ordeal of force-feeding in ICE detention.
Mark

Why did Choli choose a hunger strike in the first place? What was he hoping would change?

Mimi

He was protesting the conditions in detention and the handling of his case. He said he told guards he was simply asking for humane treatment. But once he started, ICE treated it as a security threat rather than a form of protest.

Mark

The court orders—did the judge ever question whether force-feeding was appropriate?

Mimi

Judge Olvera denied Choli's request for legal representation and kept extending the force-feeding orders whenever ICE asked. There's no record of him pushing back on the practice itself.

Mark

What's the medical justification ICE gave?

Mimi

They said it was necessary for his health, to prevent death or permanent harm. But the same court filings also mention protecting the "security and good order" of the facility. So it wasn't purely medical reasoning.

Mark

Did the actual force-feeding cause the injuries, or were those pre-existing?

Mimi

The injuries—the torn nose, the esophageal damage, the internal bleeding—those came directly from the procedure itself. A nurse tore his nose from the inside by inserting the tube too forcefully.

Mark

Why is this case significant beyond Choli's individual suffering?

Mimi

Because it shows a pattern. Eighteen hunger strikers got court orders for involuntary medical treatment in less than two years. And most of it happens in sealed records, invisible to the public. Choli's willingness to speak makes visible what the system usually keeps hidden.

  • A Kurdish activist's decision to stop eating became the catalyst for eight months of twice-daily forced tube feeding, leaving him with esophageal damage, internal bleeding, and a psychological wound so deep he wrote his own body an apology letter.
  • The government framed force-feeding as medical care while simultaneously arguing the hunger strike threatened detention center security — a dual justification that critics say reveals the procedure's true purpose as punishment and control.
  • At least 18 hunger strikers have been subjected to court-ordered involuntary medical treatment since January 2025, a number that has nearly doubled since earlier investigations, suggesting a systematic and expanding practice rather than isolated incidents.
  • Choli spent eight months without legal representation after the presiding judge denied his request for a lawyer, exposing a gap in judicial oversight that allowed repeated extensions of the force-feeding order with no meaningful check on ICE's authority.
  • Medical experts and international human rights bodies are unambiguous — a Columbia University physician who reviewed the cases called it torture outright — yet the practice continues behind sealed court records and the institutional opacity of immigration detention.

In the long and troubled history of states confronting those who refuse to eat in protest, a Kurdish filmmaker named Gabar Choli has added his name — eight months of forced nasogastric feeding inside a Texas immigration detention center, injuries to body and mind, and finally deportation. His account, now public for the first time, is not merely a personal story but a window into a system that obtained court orders to force-feed at least 18 hunger strikers since January 2025, raising ancient and unresolved questions about where medical intervention ends and state coercion begins.

Gabar Choli arrived at the Port Isabel detention center in south Texas in late May 2025 with a single act of protest available to him: he stopped eating. A Kurdish filmmaker and activist deported from Canada after a failed asylum claim, he had fled Iran where his advocacy for Kurdish independence made him a target. A hunger strike, he believed, was the only language ICE might hear.

The government's response was swift and physical. Guards restrained him while medical staff inserted a nasogastric tube through his nose and down into his stomach, pumping in nutritional liquid twice a day. In his first public account, Choli described the process as something that broke him mentally. He recalled a nurse forcing the tube so hard it tore the inside of his nose, after which he would be placed in solitary confinement, choking on blood. He eventually wrote his own body an apology letter.

DHS and ICE petitioned a federal judge for emergency orders authorizing not only force-feeding but forced hydration, blood draws, and catheterization. In court filings, they framed the procedures as medical necessity while also arguing his strike threatened detention security and amounted to manipulation of the immigration system. Choli wrote to the judge that he was not suicidal — only protesting abuse through the one means left to him. The judge denied his request for legal representation and repeatedly extended the force-feeding order at ICE's request. He went eight months without a lawyer.

Court records document the physical damage: swollen sinuses, esophageal injury, stomach problems. When he was finally deported to Canada in January 2026, he carried both physical and psychological injuries with him. His case appears to be the longest documented instance of force-feeding in ICE detention on record.

A Guardian investigation found it is far from unique. Between January 2025 and August 2026, ICE obtained court orders for involuntary medical treatment of at least 18 hunger strikers — a figure nearly double what an earlier investigation had identified. A Columbia University physician who reviewed the cases was direct: "That is just not medical care. That is torture." International human rights organizations have long held the same position. Yet the practice has remained largely invisible, shielded by sealed records and the opacity of the detention system itself. Choli's decision to speak has pulled back a corner of that curtain.

Gabar Choli arrived at the Port Isabel federal detention center in south Texas in late May 2025 with a simple intention: to refuse food until someone listened to him. He was a Kurdish filmmaker and activist, deported from Canada after his asylum application failed, and he had decided that a hunger strike was the only language left that ICE might understand. For eight months, he would learn how the government responds when a detainee stops eating.

The response came swiftly and with force. Guards would restrain him while medical staff inserted a feeding tube through his nose, down his esophagus, and into his stomach. They pumped nutritional liquid into him, often twice a day. Choli described the process in an interview with the Guardian—his first public account of what happened to him. "It just broke me, mentally broke me," he said. "It came to a point that I decided to write my body an apology letter." He recalled one nurse shoving the tube so hard that it tore the inside of his nose. Afterward, he would be placed in solitary confinement, choking on his own blood.

Choli had arrived in the United States in 2022, first to Washington state and then to Los Angeles, where he lived on a work permit while his asylum case moved through the system. He had fled Iran, where his political activism on behalf of Kurdish independence had made him a target. When he was arrested during an ICE check-in on February 25, 2025—just weeks into the second Trump administration—his case had already been denied. He began his hunger strike in California detention and was transferred to Texas. The Department of Homeland Security and ICE then petitioned a federal judge for an emergency court order to force-feed him and perform other involuntary medical procedures: intravenous hydration, blood draws, and forced catheterization for urine analysis.

In court filings, DHS and ICE justified the force-feeding as necessary for Choli's health. They also claimed his hunger strike posed "a serious threat to the security and good order" of the detention center and accused him of attempting to "manipulate the immigration system." Choli had written to the judge overseeing his case: "I am not suicidal. I am using hunger strike as the only available option to protest the abuse and mistreatment." The judge, Rolando Olvera, denied his request for legal representation and extended the force-feeding order repeatedly at ICE's request. Choli spent eight months without a lawyer.

The physical toll was severe. Court records document swollen sinuses, damage to his esophagus, and stomach problems. The psychological damage was equally real. When he was finally deported in January 2026, he carried both kinds of injury with him to Canada, where he now lives.

Choli's case may be the longest documented instance of force-feeding in ICE detention to date. But it is not isolated. A Guardian investigation found that between January 2025 and August 4, 2026, ICE obtained court orders for involuntary medical treatment of at least 18 hunger strikers. An earlier investigation had identified at least 10. DHS stated that ICE "provides involuntary medical treatment only to prevent imminent life-threatening harm or death." But in court records, the term "involuntary medical treatment" functions as an umbrella covering force-feeding, forced hydration, and other coercive procedures.

Dr. Chanelle Diaz, an assistant professor of medicine at Columbia University, reviewed Choli's case and others like it. "That is just not medical care," she told the Guardian. "That is torture." International human rights organizations have long classified force-feeding as torture. The practice remains largely hidden from public view, obscured by sealed court records and the opacity of ICE detention itself. Choli's willingness to speak about what happened to him has pulled back a corner of that curtain, revealing a system in which a person can be held without a lawyer, force-fed for months on end, and then deported—all with judicial authorization and medical supervision.

I am not suicidal. I am using hunger strike as the only available option to protest the abuse and mistreatment.
— Gabar Choli, in a letter to the federal judge overseeing his case
That is just not medical care, that is torture.
— Dr. Chanelle Diaz, assistant professor of medicine at Columbia University
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