Ilhan Omar has long been one of the most recognizable progressive voices in Congress, but in recent weeks she has been voicing a deeper, more personal concern — one that goes beyond politics and policy.

According to aides familiar with her private conversations, the congresswoman has reached a point where the hostility directed toward her no longer feels like background noise; it feels like a threat to her life. “I am a law-abiding immigrant congresswoman — and now my life is in danger,” she reportedly said during a closed-door discussion, a moment that left even seasoned staff members unsettled.

For Omar, these fears are not abstract. She has been the target of criticism and vitriol since her earliest days in office, much of it tied to her identity as a Muslim immigrant and as a representative of one of the largest Somali communities in the United States.

What she is describing now, however, is different in scale and intensity. Aides say she believes the rhetoric from prominent political figures — especially from the highest levels of government — has shifted the atmosphere from hostile to truly dangerous. “When a president talks like this, people act on it,” she warned her team. “My life is in danger because of his lies about my community and about me.”

Omar’s concerns have reportedly led to internal discussions about increasing her protection. She has always operated with the standard security protocols available to members of Congress, but escalating threats have prompted her and her staff to consider requesting additional layers of security.

While she stopped short of naming specific agencies, her comments strongly hinted at federal-level protection — a rare move for a sitting member of the House. The fact that she is even contemplating such measures is a sign of how fraught the current political moment feels to her.

Her fear is rooted not just in anonymous online threats but in how political language has real-world consequences. Words spoken by a president reverberate across the country, magnifying in intensity as supporters interpret them literally or emotionally.

Omar has become accustomed to being singled out in speeches, posts, and interviews, but aides say the recent tone has grown sharper, more accusatory, and more personal. To Omar, these shifts in rhetoric are not simply political attacks; they are catalysts for individuals who may already harbor resentment or prejudice.

Omar’s experience is not happening in a vacuum. Members of Congress across the political spectrum have faced heightened threats in recent years, and security officials have warned repeatedly that political violence is a growing danger.

For some lawmakers, these threats come in periodic waves. For Omar, they are more constant. Her position at the intersection of multiple identities — Black, Muslim, immigrant, outspoken progressive — has often made her a focus of controversy, whether she sought it or not.

Yet even amid these concerns, aides say Omar remains committed to continuing her work. She sees herself not only as a representative of Minnesota’s Fifth District but also as a symbol of what it means for the children of refugees to rise into American public life.

That sense of purpose has not weakened, but the strain is evident. Those close to her say she has become more reflective, more aware of the cost of her visibility. She speaks frequently about the impact hateful rhetoric has not just on her but on her community — a community she believes is too often misrepresented or scapegoated.

In private moments, Omar reportedly grapples with the contradiction of loving the country she serves while fearing the climate created by its political discourse. Her comments about being a “law-abiding immigrant congresswoman” reflect a recurring frustration: the sense that no matter how deeply she participates in American democracy, she is still cast by some as an outsider or threat. To her, the danger she now faces is the direct result of misinformation and demonization, not of anything she has done.

As discussions about her security continue, Omar’s team is balancing the practical considerations of increased protection with the symbolic weight of such a move. Federal security resources are typically reserved for the most serious threats, and seeking them would signal a grave shift in how Omar views her personal safety. Though she has not publicly announced any changes, those familiar with her thinking say she is no longer ruling out options that she once dismissed as unnecessary.

Through it all, Omar remains resolute. Her aides say she continues to meet with constituents, attend events, and speak out on issues important to her. But underlying that work is a growing awareness of vulnerability — a realization that the climate surrounding her has changed. Her decision to speak up about the threats she faces is itself a form of defiance, an insistence that she will not be silenced even as she acknowledges the danger.

What comes next for Omar is unclear. Whether she formally pursues additional protection or relies on existing House security structures, the concerns she has raised highlight a deeper issue: the fragility of public safety in a hyperpolarized era. Her warning — that political lies and inflammatory rhetoric can put lives in danger — is a reminder that the weight of public office now includes risks that go far beyond the legislative chamber.

For now, Omar continues her work with determination, even as she navigates an environment she fears has become more perilous. Her statement — “my life is in danger” — is not hyperbole to her, but a stark reflection of what she feels every day. And as the political climate grows even more heated, her concerns may be an early indicator of the challenges facing not just one congresswoman, but the entire fabric of democratic participation in America.