In the wake of the Trump administration’s aggressive immigration enforcement policies, many immigrants across California and the U.S. are grappling with an overwhelming sense of fear and uncertainty that has dramatically altered their daily lives.
An undocumented man from Guatemala who is battling leukemia chose to postpone his chemotherapy treatments, fearing that a visit to the hospital could expose him to immigration agents.
Similarly, a Mexican grandmother has packed her belongings in anticipation of possible deportation, reflecting the anxiety that permeates the community.
In what was once a vibrant Pentecostal church in East Los Angeles, attendance has plummeted by nearly half, as many congregants become increasingly fearful of seeking solace in their places of worship.
Pastor Carlos Rincon reports that his weekly congregation, primarily composed of immigrants from Guatemala, Mexico, El Salvador, and Honduras, has fallen from around 400 attendees to just 200. While in-person services have dwindled, the church has seen a rise in virtual participation, with many members now turning to livestreamed services on platforms like Facebook and YouTube.
Pastor Rincon emphasized the profound impact of this fear, explaining that immigration agents are now permitted to make arrests in locations that were once deemed sanctuaries, such as hospitals and churches.
This shift in policy has sowed deep apprehension among immigrants.
One of the congregation’s members, a young man in his late 20s suffering from leukemia, delayed critical chemotherapy treatments due to fears of being caught and deported to Guatemala.
In a show of solidarity, church leaders have committed to supporting him by spending nights at the hospital during his treatment.
The pervasive fear has led to the cancellation of various programs that once served as community lifelines, including a half-day resource program for landscapers and a music class for children that had recently resumed.
On one occasion, after reports of immigration agents seen nearby, Pastor Rincon cautioned families against attending scheduled services, highlighting the constant, looming threat in their community.
Father Ricardo Gonzalez, of Our Lady of Lourdes Church, noted a troubling 30% decline in attendance at his parish. While he has not yet implemented livestream services, he is considering it as a precaution to maintain connections with his congregants.
As a green card holder, Gonzalez finds himself in a precarious position, torn between his role as a leader and the risks posed by immigration enforcement.
The community has witnessed unprecedented apprehensions, particularly at courthouses, where individuals attending immigration proceedings have been targeted by immigration agents.
In response to these fears, lawyers and volunteers from various institutions, including USC, UCLA, UC Irvine, and UC Law San Francisco, have created a free hotline to assist individuals in moving their court appointments online, aiming to mitigate the risk of arrest.
This initiative, spearheaded by Olu Orange, has been well-received, with nearly 4,000 calls responded to and over 300 people helped to transfer their hearings into a safer, virtual format.
Amidst this turmoil, one poignant interaction took place over the hotline when a young girl, only about 12 years old, called, desperate for help after her parent was taken by immigration agents.
Orange was able to direct her to the Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights of Los Angeles, an essential resource for families in crisis.
Luz Gallegos, executive director of TODEC Legal Center in the Inland Empire, pointed out that the ongoing pandemic had prepared some rural and elderly individuals for this current crisis, as they had already adapted to using technology for communication and other necessities.
However, many individuals remain wary of digital connections due to the fear of being tracked by immigration authorities.
TODEC’s hotline has received numerous calls from individuals wanting to change their phone companies to avoid detection, with some opting to swap smartphones for old-school pagers.
Many of the immigrants served by TODEC limit their outdoor activities strictly to work, relying heavily on grocery delivery services, while some parents have transitioned their children into online schooling to minimize exposure.
In the Inland Empire, certain farmworkers now avoid retrieving their mail from community mailboxes, prompting TODEC to mobilize volunteers for mail delivery, transportation, and interpretation services.
One story that encapsulates the plight many face is that of Doña Chela, a 66-year-old undocumented woman who has held onto her packed belongings, ready for a potential return to Michoacan, Mexico.
After learning of cartel violence in her home region, a planned return became untenable, further complicating her situation. With mounting responsibilities for her husband, a U.S. citizen suffering from dementia, Doña Chela feels increasingly trapped.
Isolating herself in her home, she allows only emergency excursions, relying on her daughters for grocery supplies as her fears prevent her from driving.
The sense of confinement and anxiety is palpable.
Doña Chela reflects on her changed life with sorrow, voicing her inability to attend church or participate in community gatherings that once brought her joy.
Her only solace is tending to her garden, full of fresh herbs and fruits, which serves as her therapy amid the chaos surrounding her.
Gallegos eloquently captured the essence of the immigrant experience in this climate, referencing a poignant song by Los Tigres del Norte, ‘La Jaula de Oro,’ translating to ‘The Golden Cage.’
“Our community is in a golden cage,” she lamented, expressing hope that the recognition of immigrants’ critical role in sustaining the economy comes before it is too late.
In response to the growing fear and hesitance among immigrant populations to seek medical care, St. John’s Community Health, a significant nonprofit healthcare provider in Los Angeles County, launched a home-visitation program tailored for low-income residents.
The initiative came after a noticeable increase in cancellations and missed appointments as patients expressed concern over being apprehended by ICE.
The clinic reported that more than a third of its patients have either canceled or failed to show for appointments since the crackdown on immigration began.
To counter these barriers, the clinic is amplifying its home visitation efforts, with plans to add another team to meet the rising demand.
Community coalitions have also stepped in to support those unable to slip under the radar.
For instance, OC Rapid Response Network has raised funds to assist street vendors in finding their way back home, while Alley Cat Deliveries has noted a 25% increase in grocery delivery requests, reflecting the community’s hesitance to venture outside their homes.
Although Smith, the delivery service operator, avoids inquiring about his clients’ immigration status, he acknowledges the fear present in their inquiries about ICE sightings during pickups.
Meanwhile, Glen Curado, the founder of the World Harvest Food Bank in Los Angeles, has noticed a significant decrease in individuals visiting the food bank for groceries, dropping from an average of 150 families to just about 100 on most weekdays.
Through its Cart With a Heart program, the food bank enables community members to donate funds for groceries that can be delivered directly to those sheltering at home.
Curado painted a stark image of the current situation, likening it to a war zone where community members scramble to meet the needs of those in hiding.
As immigrants navigate these turbulent times, they remain resilient, finding ways to protect themselves and their families amid pervasive fear and uncertainty.
Despite their struggles, their stories capture the essence of a community striving for dignity and survival against all odds.
image source from：latimes
