Bella likes to go to the Hispanic supermarket in her neighborhood, particularly to buy sweet bread, fresh fruit, and tortillas. But in the last week, as news of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) raids have rocked Los Angeles, Bella, who is undocumented and in her thirties, and asked to be called by a different name to protect her privacy, is avoiding the Hispanic supermarket and anywhere else she can think of that might be a target for raids.
On Friday, ICE raids began at warehouses, clothing manufacturers, and Home Depot parking lots across the city, prompting an outpouring of protests, with tens of thousands of people marching through the weekend. In response, President Donald Trump ordered the deployment of 2,000 National Guard troops into the city despite protests from both Mayor Karen Bass and California Gov. Gavin Newsom. The onslaught shows no sign of stopping, with Trump mobilizing hundreds of Marines for possible deployment and border czar Tom Homan warning that enforcement will continue “every day” in Los Angeles. Meanwhile, the ICE raids which sparked the protest continue, and the undocumented people of Los Angeles worry they’ll be caught in one.
In light of the raids, Bella’s life has shrunk. Though no one knows where the next raid is going to take place, she’s trying to hedge her bets. She has tickets to a Mexican singer’s concert this weekend; now, she wonders if attending is worth the risk. “Right now it’s not a good idea,” she says. Bella’s torn between her desire to stay informed – and thus, stay safe – and the constant heartbreak she faces while scrolling on social media, as she swipes past videos of children crying for their parents who have been taken into ICE custody. In her seven years in the United States, Bella has worked a job that is often done by immigrants; she doubts that she’s taking an American’s job. “I was just thinking, what are we doing wrong?” she asks. “We’re not doing anything. We’re just trying to work and live our lives without doing anything bad to anyone.”
People gather in front of Ambiance Apparel, a major clothing manufacturer in Los Angeles, after several employees were taken into custody by federal agents on June 5.
Genaro Molina/Los Angeles Times/Getty Images
Felipe, an undocumented 44-year-old father who lives in Los Angeles and asked to be called by a different name to protect his privacy, has to travel to different neighborhoods throughout the city every day for work. That travel, once prosaic, is now fraught. He uses the navigation app Waze, through which users can report law enforcement activity. “I’ve become much more careful and intentional with how I plan my day,” he says. “My focus is getting from one job to the next with as little public exposure as possible, because my priority is getting home safely to my family every night.” Sometimes, when a customer reaches out from a neighborhood that Felipe considers too susceptible to ICE raids, he’ll turn down the job. “I have to consider the risks involved,” he says. He used to spend the time between jobs visiting stores, restaurants, and supply centers; he’s stopped that in the wake of the ICE raids. “Everything is about staying focused and moving safely from one home to the next.” The amount of mental energy it takes to stay aware of all the possible risks is exhausting to Felipe, a father and husband. “I wish people understood how much mental energy it takes just to live a normal day,” he says. “I’m not afraid for myself, I’m afraid of what would happen to my family if I couldn’t come home. If I’m taken out of the picture, everything changes.”
At the American Civil Liberties Union of Southern California, Luis Nolasco, a senior policy advocate, says people are rightfully scared. These raids “are sending a very chilling message to immigrants all over Southern California. People are scared and they’re altering their behaviors and the way they show up.” Nolasco says this most recent wave of ICE raids feels different — “more relentless, more militaristic” — than those that happened during the last Trump administration. Part of the ACLU’s messaging has always been for people to know their rights ahead of potential detainment. But as ICE arrests top 100,000 in the first few months of Trump’s second term, people are left with a question: Does knowing their rights matter?
Nolasco says the ACLU’s advice is still the same: to remain silent, give as little information as possible, and reach out to organizations like the Orange County Rapid Response Network, which has resources including family preparedness plans and what to do during the first 24 hours someone is detained. People are also encouraged to call the hotline to report ICE sightings in their neighborhood.
It’s not only undocumented people who are afraid as the onslaught in Los Angeles continues. And for good reason — in May, a 31-year-old Danish man with a green card was detained by ICE and transferred to a detention center in Louisiana.
For Jackie, a 38-year-old green card holder living in Los Angeles, her status provides little comfort. “With this administration, honestly, it’s not even a relief,” she says. “The green card is not even something that’s going to secure myself from being deported.” Jackie’s scared and trying to limit her activities outside of the house as much as possible. Though she’s been going to work, she avoids going to the grocery store, running errands, and seeing friends. The risk, at this moment, is too high. When she does go out, she carries her green card with her in addition to her passport from her country of origin and a pair of extra clothes just in case.
Citizenship also no longer seems to be a catch-all protection against ICE. A few days ago, a U.S. marshal was detained because he “fit the general description of a subject being sought by ICE.” The marshal was released after his identity was “quickly confirmed,” according to the U.S. Marshals Service, but the potential of a citizen being arrested or even detained sticks in the mind of Karla, a 34-year-old living in Los Angeles. She was undocumented for most of her life and only got citizenship last year. Her parents also have citizenship but neither of them speak English, and Karla worries about them getting caught up in raids and being unable to prove their status. Because of that, she’s doing all of their grocery shopping and her parents are spending at least the next few weeks inside their home. “No matter what I do as a human being living in the United States, no matter all the things I had to do for naturalization, I will always be a second-hand citizen,” she says.
As Bella’s phone pings notifications from community groups and texts from friends warning her of ICE sightings across the city, she wonders if she should go back to Mexico before she’s forced to. Because the way she’s living right now — with the constant fear of deportation — isn’t how she expected her life in America to be. “If I wanted to be afraid, I would have stayed in Mexico.”
Daniel D`Amico for SANREMO.FM
