The question in the title would seem to have no logical basis were it not for the fact that President Donald Trump, Secretary of State Marco Rubio and Secretary of War Pete Hegseth have all accused the president of the South American nation, Gustavo Petro, of being “a drug trafficking leader” and “sponsor of narco-terrorists,” and the U.S. has cancelled his visa and put him on the sanctions list of the Treasury’s Office of Foreign Assets Control (OFAC).
At the same time the Trump administration implemented operation “Southern Spear,” deploying U.S. naval and air forces in the Caribbean and directing attacks, with missiles, against vessels accused of transporting cocaine in the Caribbean and Pacific. As of this writing, 23 boats have been destroyed and 87 persons killed. Official sources indicate that at least one of these attacks occurred in Colombian waters.
Initially, Washington justified these actions in terms of the need to “protect our homeland from drugs that kill our people.” But the U.S. has subsequently begun referencing “antiterrorist actions,” accompanied by assertions of operations along the Colombian-Venezuelan border involving armed groups such as the FARC dissident groups,[1] the ELN,[2] and Hezbollah.
Clearly this military deployment by the U.S., and attacks, are disproportionate, leading to civilian deaths that could be declared war crimes, because they violate international humanitarian law. In addition, the cocaine allegedly destroyed represents a fraction of the volume of drugs transported on ships that cross the Pacific Ocean, not the Caribbean. Furthermore, as has been explained by U.S. intelligence agencies, neither Colombia nor Venezuela produces or traffics in fentanyl, the cause of most drug deaths in the U.S. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, in 2023, 107,500 Americans died from overdoses, 74,700 from fentanyl, and 29,000 from cocaine. In 2024, deaths totaled 70,596, with fentanyl the main cause of death from overdoses.
Drug policy in Colombia changed since leftist Gustavo Petro became president in 2022; his administration decided to attack the clandestine laboratories, seize the cocaine already processed (especially at sea), extradite large-scale drug-traffickers and go after their wealth. Petro’s is a very different policy from that of previous administrations, which focused their efforts on attacking those who grow the coca leaf, considered the weakest link in the chain.
The result is that the current administration has seized 2,700 tons of cocaine, destroyed approximately 15,000 laboratories, and extradited 400 drug traffickers to the U.S. In contrast to these figures, the volume of coca leaf grown has expanded during the same period. According to the UN’s Integrated System for Monitoring Illicit Crops, Colombia today has 255,000 hectares of coca and produces approximately 2,664 tons of cocaine that is exported illegally to the U.S., Europe, and Asia.
The government of Colombia has undertaken a policy of the voluntary eradication of coca crops, substituting legal agricultural alternatives in place of coca, while supporting peasant farmers with agricultural land – a policy that has shown positive results, even though its effects are slower in coming.
It is clear that the government of Colombia is engaged in combatting drug-trafficking, the president has been firm in fighting the drug mafias, and the arguments brandished by Washington show a profound lack of knowledge of what drug-trafficking has meant for this Andean country.
President Petro has proposed a policy of cooperation to Trump to combat the cultivation of coca leaf, production and commercialization of cocaine, as has been done with prior governments over the course of the long strategic relationship between the two countries. There has been no response and some have begun to wonder whether drug-trafficking isn’t just a pretext for the Trump administration to intervene politically in Latin America, encouraged by sectors of the far right in Florida, as has now happened in Venezuela.
The paradox is that the problem of cocaine cannot be resolved by militarizing the Caribbean, invading countries and killing civilians on the high seas but instead by adopting a harm reduction policy that works to better understand the harms to both producers and consumers, to prevent continued drug consumption, and provide effective and publicly available treatment options for those who continue to be trapped in the world of drugs. In this way the current figure of 5.3 million habitual users of cocaine in the U.S. would decline.
While the United Nations takes steps to improve upon failed models of the past, and is forming an independent commission to evaluate the “war on drugs” of the last 50 years, the U.S. is backsliding toward militaristic policies that, while they might serve any number of purposes, will not overcome the trafficking and consumption of cocaine.
[1] Factions of the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, or FARC, some of which did not go along with the 2016 peace deal between the Government of Colombia and FARC, and others that demobilized in 2016 and then took up weapons anew.
[2] ELN: National Liberation Army, which has fought the government continuously since 1964.
This piece was authored by Jorge Rojas Rodríguez, translated by Charlie Roberts, and edited by Robert Albro, CLALS Associate Director.
Research Professor, School of Government and Economics, Panamerican University, Mexico
Nayib Bukele on Salvadoran Independence Day in 2024. (Source: Wikimedia)
On December 17, 2025, a local court released lawyer Alejandro Henríquez and pastor José Ángel Pérez. Seven months earlier, the two activists had been arbitrarily detained under El Salvador’s state of emergency and charged with public disorder and aggressive resistance. The arrests occurred when Henríquez and Pérez were attending a peaceful rally of the El Bosque cooperative outside President Nayib Bukele’s private residence. The El Bosque cooperative is a farming community that had obtained its lands because of agrarian reforms in the 1980s and was now making a last-ditch effort to prevent the eviction of more than 300 families from their plots. In a bittersweet turn of events, Henríquez and Pérez pled guilty to regain their freedom after an abbreviated judicial process. Each received a suspended three-year prison sentence that essentially prohibits them from participating in protests during this time. The verdict criminalizes social movement activity and is a reminder that the state of emergency has become a tool to silence critical voices.
Generalized citizen discontent with the country’s traditional parties and his own anti-establishment campaign had propelled Bukele to the presidency of El Salvador in 2019. Since then, he has quickly established an electoral authoritarian regime that retains a democratic façade but sees him wield executive control over other branches of government. His party, Nuevas Ideas, obtained a legislative supermajority in both the 2021 and 2024 elections. Bukele capitalized on these wins to neutralize all checks and balances on his power and to engineer his successful run for an unconstitutional second mandate in 2024. A secret pact with the country’s street gangs helped mobilize voters and contributed to Bukele’s early triumphs at the ballot box. In late March 2022, the breakdown of this agreement prompted gang members to kill 87 people in three days. By then, Bukele no longer needed the gangs to consolidate his rule.
Following this latest escalation in violence, he asked the Legislative Assembly to declare a state of emergency to crack down on these groups. The measure, which suspends certain constitutional rights and allows extended pretrial detention, dismantled the gangs as the country knew them and sharply cut the number of registered homicides. While the administration appears to be manipulating crime statistics, its perceived results made the state of emergency widely popular with Salvadorans and helped Bukele’s re-election in 2024. Far from being of a temporary nature, the measure has come to fulfill an essential function in the regime’s propaganda and repression. Some 90,000 people have thus far been detained, including human rights defenders and political opponents. Often apprehended on the spurious charge of illicit association, individuals find themselves mired in a justice system that does not ensure a fair trial. Civil society groups have extensively documented the systematic human rights violations committed under the state of emergency. The abuses are particularly egregious in the prisons where, by December 2025, they had occasioned at least 473 deaths.
The weaponization of the state of emergency follows the progressive closure of El Salvador’s civic space. Bukele’s regime has severely restricted access to public information, making it difficult for reporters and transparency activists to obtain data about government policies, contracts, spending, and statistics. If anything, this opacity has increased under the state of emergency. Since he came to power, Bukele has denied independent journalists access to press briefings and subjected them to systematic campaigns of stigmatization and delegitimization. Efforts aimed at undermining critical media workers range from online harassment and defamation to surveillance and abusive legal tactics such as Strategic Lawsuits Against Public Participation or SLAPPs, initiated to exhaust targets financially and emotionally.
At El Faro, an award-winning investigative outlet, journalists received physical threats and Pegasus spyware attacks. Advertisers were harassed, and the newspaper faced spurious money laundering accusations and frivolous audits. Jorge Beltrán is a veteran reporter who had been covering organized crime and gangs for El Diario de Hoy, one of El Salvador’s oldest mainstream newspapers. In 2022 Beltrán was targeted with a $10 million SLAPP after an exposé about Israeli cyber espionage firms in Mexico. A relative of the director of El Salvador’s state intelligence agency was mentioned in the piece and subsequently sued both the newspaper and Beltrán for moral damage. While the court rejected the compensation claim, it required El Diario de Hoy to publish an apology and withdraw the article. Beltrán himself went into exile in June 2025 because of a reasonable fear of being arrested on fabricated criminal charges.
For Salvadoran civil society, however, it was the arbitrary detention of Ruth López that constituted a watershed moment. As lead anti-corruption investigator for Cristosal, a prominent human rights NGO, López had worked on cases of government corruption and irregularities in public contracts involving Bukele’s relatives. Her arrest in May 2025 on spurious grounds of illicit enrichment had a chilling effect. Since 2020, at least 130 journalists and human rights defenders have gone into exile, though most of them left El Salvador in the aftermath of López’s capture to avoid meeting a similar fate. In addition to individual departures, NGOs and independent media organizations also felt compelled to exit the country. El Faro had already moved its legal office to Costa Rica in 2023, whereas Focos and the Journalists’ Association of El Salvador (APES) did so two years later. As government repression increased throughout 2025, El Faro and Cristosal moved all of their staff abroad for their own safety. The decision to reduce the organizations’ in-country presence, while understandable, will pose new challenges to documenting abuses of power, defending its victims, and holding officials accountable.
Bukele’s regime found an additional mechanism to quash dissent with the Foreign Agents’ Law passed in May 2025. The legislation requires non-profits to register with the interior ministry and pay a 30 percent tax on all foreign funding they receive. The decree gives the administration broad powers to monitor, sanction, and dissolve organizations that fail to register or that engage in political activities that threaten the stability of the country. In response, some NGOs voluntarily decided to close, many others try to keep operating with a low profile. The Jesuit Central American University, long a vocal advocate for the poor and oppressed, is known in El Salvador for its research, public opinion surveys, and human rights reports. Its leadership, however, must now hope to avoid a repeat of what happened in Nicaragua where the Ortega regime seized the school’s property and assets in 2023. In El Salvador, meanwhile, proposed reforms to the rules governing communal associations suggest a government intent upon hindering community organizing. For anyone working in NGOs, media, and academia, self-censorship becomes a survival strategy. As journalist Raymundo Riva Palacio remarked, regarding the erosion of press freedom in his native Mexico, self-censorship is the most effective form of censorship, because it leaves no trace, creates no scandal, and normalizes silence.
Self-imposed exile and self-censorship are turning El Salvador into what the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights has called a “zone of silence.” The term is typically associated with areas where violence against journalists leaves entire communities misinformed, as has happened in Mexico. A similar trend is occurring in El Salvador since the Bukele administration is deploying “technologies of censorship” to inhibit public scrutiny and criticism. The resultant information vacuum is filled by the official narrative, extensively promoted through government-controlled television channels, newspapers, and social media accounts. Influencers and pro-Bukele trolls do their part to spread regime propaganda and attack human rights defenders, journalists, and opposition politicians. Since citizens primarily rely on television and social media to access information, Salvadorans are likely relatively unaware of major government decisions and their impacts on people’s lives.
Exiles may have escaped state terror at home. Some stay out of the public eye to keep their relatives in El Salvador out of harm’s way. Others continue their professional work as best as they can, but they have started to be impacted by Bukele’s methods of transnational repression. The United Nations Human Rights Office defines transnational repression as acts that a state or its proxy commits to deter or punish advocacy directed towards it from abroad. It can take various forms, including digital attacks, reprisals against in-country relatives, the arbitrary refusal of consular services, harassment through INTERPOL red notices, and physical violence. Ingrid Escobar directs Socorro Jurídico Humanitario, a legal aid organization that assists victims of the state of emergency, and has repeatedly been subjected to online defamation campaigns. Ivania Cruz and Rudy Joya of the human rights organization UNIDEHC were targeted with INTERPOL red notices but managed to have these lifted.
Given the Bukele regime’s persistent attempts to intimidate journalists and activists, it is vital that these groups create international pressure to denounce abuses and demand respect for human rights. It is equally important that exiles find spaces for collective solidarity and resistance. Their ability to continue their work is key, more so since parts of the international community are either reluctant to criticize the democratically elected Bukele or perceive his security “model” as effective. APES documents and reports abuses against journalists and offers media workers safety guides and legal assistance. In Mexico City, Casa Centroamérica has become a home for Central Americans fleeing political and legal persecution. The NGO can provide recent arrivals with temporary shelter, is building an archive of national publications, and researches the causes of exile.
Realistically, the state of emergency only stands a chance of being dismantled if El Salvador returns to democracy. Many citizens choose not to report abuses or speak out against Bukele’s regime for fear of being arbitrarily detained. Constitutional reforms passed in July 2025 extend the presidential term to six years, permit indefinite re-election, abolish the runoff election, and brought the next presidential election forward to 2027. Bukele can comfortably perpetuate himself in power if abstention levels are high and the political opposition fails to present a compelling alternative to his vision of the country. During Bukele’s time in government, economic growth has been weak, and poverty has increased as soaring debt and corruption have depleted state resources. A fiscal adjustment insisted upon by the International Monetary Fund requiring a smaller public sector has already led to massive job losses in areas such as health and education. These cuts will affect the quality of public services and likely fuel social discontent. The country’s economic woes, which Bukele will be unable to resolve as quickly as the security situation, may ultimately help bring about the demise of his regime.
If you are a young student in the United States and you are worried that you, a classmate, or a loved one could be deported by ICE agents, as you have seen on social media, TV, or in your neighborhood, this short text is for you.
School dance. Photo by Ernesto Castañeda.
Why are people in pseudo-military clothes and vests with the initials ICE, HSI, CBP,* and others patrolling the streets and aggressively arresting people in public?It all starts with the popular but dangerous idea that a country must have closed borders, allowing only invited people to pass through. This makes sense for private houses, schools, and other large private institutions, but cities and countries do not work like that. Think about it most people born in the United States can move in their cities, towns, as well as to other cities or towns in the 50 states without having to ask permission from any political authority. They can even move to Guam, the Virgin Islands, or Puerto Rico.
*ICE [Immigration and Customs Enforcement], HSI [Homeland Security Investigations], CBP [U.S. Customs and Border Protection, agency that houses the Border Patrol which has now also being mobilized to both coast and Chicago] are all immigration enforcement agencies within the Department of Homeland Security (DHS). Under the current administration other federal and local agencies have also been assigned to help carry out raids and aid in deportation efforts.
People in Any Country Are Not All the Same
Another dangerous myth is that all the people in a country must share a language, culture, and even look the same, as if related by blood. But countries are not big extended families, so this is a fable. But many adults believe this was true in the past and want it to happen soon in the places where they live. As you know, not everyone is the same. Even within the same family, a student club, or sports team, people have differences that make them who they are.
People in some large cities complain about a few people around them speaking a different language in the streets or having a different religion. This is not new; some people have always done so in any booming city.
Even While Most People Stay Put Most of the Time, Mobility is Normal
Many people go to other countries to travel, study, work, or visit family members and friends. Most people get visas, which are permits from a country’s government to visit or move in with permission. People from the United States and Europe rarely need visas to visit other countries, but it is not the same the other way around. People from most of Africa, Asia, and Latin America need vetted visas to visit Europe, the United Kingdom, the United States, Canada, or Australia.
In some exceptional cases, people have to leave the countries where they were born because of war or persecution because of their religion, ethnicity, or political views. It may be hard for them to get immigration visas after that. Other countries are supposed to provide refuge, a safe place to stay for groups facing persecution. But many countries’ governments like to look the other way or play hot potato with people.
Work Abroad is Often More Available than Working Papers
Other people may have informal verbal (spoken) job offers from restaurants, farms, and small businesses in the United States, but they cannot get visas because the people in charge of approving visas in U.S. consulates abroad think those people would stay in the country, and they think they do not have the savings and education to make them “desirable” to come to the United States. These are not necessarily the views of the people approving visas, but the informal instructions they are told to follow by their bosses.
Nonetheless, some people from towns with a long history of long-distance migration from point A to B have the contacts, paths, and know-how to go to other countries without the U.S. government’s permission. This is what people refer to as “illegal immigration.”
Remember, we should not use the term illegal to name a person, because a living human being cannot be “illegal,” but people can commit acts that go against the law, in this case, entering another country without getting their passport inspected and stamped.
“No Human Being is Illegal.” Elie Wiesel
People without a legal immigration status, who we can call undocumented, are not automatically bad people. They are just caught in a hard and vulnerable situation. Some adults say they should respect the law of a country and “get in line,” but for many of them there is no line to wait in. And for some of the people with close family members legally in the U.S., the wait in line to reunite can be ten years of longer. Therefore, some people live for over a decade away from their parents or minor children. As we recount in the book, Reunited: Family Separation and Central American Youth Migration.
Middle schoolers playing soccer. Photo by Ernesto Castañeda.
For most of U.S. history, lawyers have not labeled this a crime but more a “civil” infraction, something like a minor driving infraction, such as driving without insurance, or watching a movie without paying a ticket. But in those examples, people are getting something without paying or putting others at potential financial risk. Immigrants come to the U.S. to work, to pay for all of their expenses, those of their family members, and to send money to loved ones who stayed in the places they came from. Preventing people from moving to a country, and more appropriately to a particular city or neighborhood, even if they can pay for their housing, is like public parks or libraries not allowing only certain people in.
The problem with the label of “illegal” (rude name-calling) is that it conjures or brings together the idea of coming as a family without a visa, along with generalizations and stereotypes that only people who are poor and of different races are “illegal.” That “illegals” are inferior, potentially dangerous criminals, a threat to the homogeneity (looking or being similar) of a country. These all false.
In recent U.S. history, the label of “illegality” has been applied to people from Mexico and Central America with limited English and/or African and indigenous features working in sectors such as agriculture, construction, contracting, food preparation, etc. There are business owners who are undocumented as well as people from Canada and Europe, but it is easier for them “to pass.”
Immigrants who commit violent crimes are not immune (protected) from being stopped by police and imprisoned. But for many decades, people in the news have said that people without papers are dangerous and taking things from U.S. citizens. Many adults have come to believe this after hearing it so many times.
Some politicians run for office sometimes with as little as promising to “get rid of” all the undocumented people in a country. This has been the case of President Trump, and he has acted on this words. His team has set ambitious goals to find people without valid visas or immigration permits and to remove them from the country, which is what we call deportations. He and his team campaigned on closing the border to new arrivals, deporting people with criminal convictions, and with the signs and slogans of mass deportation.
How do you carry out mass deportations quickly in a country with over 350 million people, where less than 3% of the population is undocumented?
Unlike a classroom, there is no list of everyone living in the U.S. that includes everyone’s immigration status. So, this federal administration is trying to reach its goal is by deporting under any pretext some people who are renewing visas, trying to get papers to stay longer, become citizens, or get protection from deportation because they fear for their safety if they were sent back to dangerous places.
Another shortcut by ICE is to go to places where many stereotypical potentially undocumented immigrants gather and stop and ask for papers from people based only on their physical appearance, job, and accent. (Lawyers call this racial profiling).
Communities with many Latinos are specially afraid about deportations hitting close to home. Over 68,000 people are in immigration detention centers at the end, so of them will be let go after proving they are citizens or have valid permits. Many others will eventually be deported without their family members.
Because of this, families with undocumented members are afraid of spending time in public and may always fear it may be their last day together. So, it is important to be patient and supportive of people who could be in that situation. It is understandable if your classmates or even friends do not want to talk about this. Their parents may have told them not to share their immigration status or that of their parents, afraid that it could be used against them. Many live with the continuous fear that an enemy could call la migra (ICE) on them. The have lived with this fear sometimes for decades.
ICE Arrests from Immigration Enforcement Dashboard
People who are undocumented have to try to act perfectly
Afraid about her only daughter being caught by surprise, an interviewee we talked to confidentially, recounts that she told her 13-year-old daughter this year that she was “illegal,” and that she should be careful not to skip class, misbehave, or even think about experimenting with illegal drugs, alcohol, or marijuana because this could cause her deportation and that of her mother and maybe other family members too.
She had never before realized she was undocumented; she thought she was like anyone else in her class, and she is and so she is at risk of deportation. She cannot help but be worried, but how worried should her best friends be? Well, there were around 11 million individuals who were undocumented when Trump became president again on January 20, 2025. Because of changes to immigration laws, procedures, and programs, there may be 14 million people out of status a the end of 2026.
In 2025, the Trump admin, with its aggressive policing, raiding, and detaining, forcibly deported between 200k and 600k people. Self-deportation is a luxury that many immigrants do not have. The official estimates for this are not credible.
So, let’s do some simple math for the probability of being forcible deported by DHS by dividing the maximum estimate for 2025 deportation by a medium-high estimate for the number of undocumented: 600,000/14,000,000=.04 or 4%. This is the probability that an undocumented person is deported each year that these mass deportation goals continue along with large federal agent deployments and police collaboration in some localities [287(g) agreements]. The probability of being detained while attending an immigration court appointment is also low. So, while it is possible this may happen to you, your mom, or your friend, most immigrants won’t be deported. Clearly, the likelihood varies by location. In some places, other certain groups are targeted, like Somalis in the Twin Cities recently. But detaining people and deporting them in this way is very expensive, damaging for the U.S. economy and society, and currently very unpopular. Over 60% percent of U.S. adults oppose these policies. Tell the people you know in this situation not to despair or give up.
Deportation by City. Immigration Enforcement Dashboard
Despite sad cases about children receiving cancer treatment, nurses and care worker women being deported, the numbers show that, because of profiling, most of the people deported are working-age men from Mexico, Guatemala, and Honduras. Over 70% of them have no criminal record whatsoever, and only a very small percentage have a violent crime conviction. Meaning most people are innocent hard workers, fathers, sons, but they have been deported because they look like the stereotype. There are good and bad people everywhere. This may remind you of why some teachers and adults may tell you the importance of not generalizing, not falling for common stereotypes and prejudices, and of getting to know people from all backgrounds and with origins in all parts of the world. Learning how to put yourself in their shoes is the best way to understand them, comfort them, and protect them, in the future, by changing the way we aim to deal with undocumented immigration, not by mass deportations or having people afraid of deportation, but by giving them a way to become documented through new laws voted in Congress. Your care and your voice matter.
Fleeing Collapse, Facing Barriers: The Venezuelan Crisis and U.S. Immigration Hurdles
By Katheryn Olmos, Emma Wyler, & Isabella Serra
Photo of popular Venezuelan activist, Rafael Araujo, holding a sign that says, “Feb 12th 2014-2015 Impunity Persecution and Torture,” at a protest in Caracas, Venezuela on February 12, 2015. Image retrieved from Wikimedia Commons.
Severe Humanitarian Emergency in Venezuela
Just a few decades ago, Venezuela stood as a beacon of economic prosperity and oil wealth on the Caribbean coast of South America. However, the rise of authoritarian rule led to economic collapse, widespread corruption, and rampant inflation, creating a dangerous political climate that forced millions to flee their homes.
For many Venezuelans, including the 48 living in the Washington Metropolitan region (DMV) whom we interviewed, migrating to the U.S. was not their first choice when pursuing a more stable life. Previously, many Venezuelans migrated to and were displaced from places closer to home, from neighboring countries such as Venezuela, Colombia, Peru, Chile, and Brazil.
Venezuelan displacement is driven by a myriad of circumstances. Almost all of the Venezuelans we interviewed expressed that the economic situation in their home country, including hyperinflation, food scarcity, and inadequate wages, is not viable to sustain themselves or their families.
“No hay trabajo. [Cuando] hay trabajo y te quieren pagar, son 20 dólares semanales. Sí, y eso es muy poco dinero para los consumos de mi mamá, mis hijas. Nada más un bote de leche son 10 dólares. ¿Y me quedan 10 dólares para qué?”
“There’s no work. When there is work and they want to pay you, it’s 20 dollars a week. Yes, and that’s very little money for my mom and daughters’ basic needs. Just one gallon of milk costs 10 dollars. That leaves me 10 dollars for what?”
— Gabriel, Venezuelan Man, 28
When asked about corruption and impunity playing a role in the reason they migrated, the answer is almost always “yes.” Many of our participants experience corruption and political persecution from their government.
“Pues primero por la escasez de comida, y segundo, el barrio donde yo vivía era uno de los barrios más peligrosos de Venezuela… No tanto por parte de los que te roban sino más que todo por la policía. A la policía no importa si eres sano, si eres delincuente, igualito te extorsionaban, te sembraban drogas, de todo… nada más por el hecho de que uno perteneciera a La Cota 905 pensaban que ya uno estaba relacionado con [la pandilla]. Sí a todo el mundo que agarraron o sembraron le daban golpe, lo metieron preso, lo desaparecía… Te mataban y te ponían un arma, y ponían carajo de la banda de La Cota 905, cuando no es así. Entonces esa fue uno de los principales motivos porque me vine: La policía.”
“Well, first, because of the scarcity of food, and second, the neighborhood where I lived was one of the most dangerous neighborhoodsin Venezuela…Not so much by people who rob you, but mostly by the police. It doesn’t matter to the police if you’re normal or if you’re a criminal; they still extorted you, planted drugs, everything. Just because you belonged to La Cota 905, they thought you were part of the gang. Everyone they grabbed or planted on was beaten, imprisoned, disappeared… They’d kill you and put a gun on you, and they’d say you were from La Cota 905 gang, when that’s not true. So that was one of the main reasons why I left: The police.”
— Andres, Venezuelan Man, 25
Humanitarian Protection Terminated
Given the unsafe conditions back home, many of the interviewees entered the United States under humanitarian parole, a common pathway to seek protection. The discriminatory attempt by the second Trump administration (now being blocked in federal court) to terminate humanitarian parole for Venezuelans, Cubans, Haitians, and Nicaraguans (CHNV) has upended the legal status for over half a million immigrants, and threatens to block all new applicants from these countries from receiving humanitarian protection. As of December 2024, 117,330 Venezuelan nationals had entered the U.S. under humanitarian parole. As Nicolas, a 29-year-old Venezuelan man, described:
“Entré con un permiso humanitario… A través de la aplicación [CBP One]. Ahorita no tengo los papeles, pero estoy en Estados Unidos gracias al permiso humanitario que ofrece Estados Unidos. Me lo aprobaron. … Cuando estaba en Chile, me aprobaron la entrada legal.”
“I came in with a humanitarian parole… Through the [CBP One] application. Right now, I don’t have the papers, but I’m in the United States because of the humanitarian parole that the United States offers. They approved me. … When I was in Chile, they approved me for legal entry.”
— Nicolas, Venezuelan Man, 29
In the appointment-making process for their asylum cases and legal processing, many interviewees used the CBP One app.
“Había hecho varios registros [en la aplicación CBP One] y todo eso, y no salía nada… Y trabajé hasta que me salió la cita… Estuve casi 12 meses, 11 meses [en México esperando la cita]… Entonces, de ahí, me dieron [la cita] para San Ysidro… Cuando por fin crucé, pues, solo la felicidad de estar aquí, todo fue, bueno, incluso mejor. Y de ahí llegué, compré [un boleto], tomé mi vuelo, y luego volé hasta aquí.”
“I had done several registrations [on the CBP One app] and all that, and nothing came up… And I worked until I got the appointment… I spent almost 12 months, 11 months [in Mexico waiting for the appointment]… So, from there, I got [the appointment] for San Ysidro… When I finally crossed, well, just the happiness of being here, everything was, well, even better. And from there, I arrived, bought [a ticket], I got my flight, and then I flew here.”
— Diego, Venezuelan Man, 19
The CBP One app, once a tool to schedule asylum appointments, was shut down by Trump and transformed “self-deportation” tool. This effectively weaponizes one of the only services for Venezuelans to legally process their asylum applications.
Venezuelans we spoke to often had experience with the Temporary Protected Status (TPS) program. TPS provides temporary protection and work permits to individuals who are unable to safely return to their home countries.
In February of 2025, President Trump announced his intentions to upend TPS for Venezuelans, stripping the 700,000 who would have been eligible for the program. While ending TPS for Venezuelans backpedals on basic humanitarian protection policy, our interviews shine a more nuanced light on the program’s existing limitations. TPS was too temporary to be a pathway.
“Ah sí, porque con el estatus temporal, o sea, lo dan solo por 18 meses. Y el asunto es que, para cuando lo recibes, ya casi se está acabando, así que nadie te va a dar un trabajo por un mes y luego te quedarás, ya sabes, sin los papeles legales.”
“Oh yeah, because with the temporary status, I mean they give it for only 18 months. And the scene is by the time you receive it. It’s almost already sparse, so I mean, nobody will go in to give you a job for a month, and then you will be, you know, without the legal paper.”
— Alejandra, Venezuelan Woman, 73
Despite its limitations, now that TPS is terminated, Venezuelans in the U.S. have lost their temporary work authorizations and currently risk deportation. The sensationalization of Venezuelan deportations by the Trump administration is an escalation of racial profiling experiences that interviewees previously reported.
Experiences in the U.S.
The hardships Venezuelans face do not end at the border. Our team looked deeper into the immigrant experiences of Venezuelans upon entering the U.S.
Many of our interviews uncovered further obstacles, including racial profiling, political persecution, labor exploitation, health implications, and detainment.
A commonality we discovered within our interviews is that people who seek refuge in the United States are criminalized based on their country of origin. Many Venezuelans interviewed experienced racial profiling committed by American police enforcement. The following interview, along with several others, reported job exploitation and unlivable wages. Racial profiling by police is a common thread among our interviews.
In our interviews with Venezuelans who had been detained in the United States, there were reports of close confinement and stress leading to health issues. On his experience being detained, a young man shared:
“Hubo un momento en que, prácticamente por tanto encierro, se me estaba cayendo el cabello del estrés y de tanto pensar. A veces quería pedir la deportación, y a veces me decía a mí mismo, ‘No estoy aquí, ya no estoy aquí’… Entonces aguanté, y cuando salí, me rapé la cabeza porque se me estaba cayendo el cabello.”
“There was a moment when, practically from so much confinement, my hair was falling out from the stress and the thinking. Sometimes I wanted to ask for deportation, and sometimes I said [to myself], I’m not here, I’m not already here… Then, I held on, and when I came out, I shaved my head because my hair was falling out.”
— Jose, Venezuelan Man, 23
U.S. Border Patrol agents process migrants at the Central Processing Center in McAllen, Texas, Sunday, June 17, 2018. Retrieved from picryl.
Key Takeaways
Venezuelans had to leave their worlds behind to escape the humanitarian crisis, just to face repeated struggles in an escalating authoritarian regime seizing power in the United States. Daniel, a 46-year-old Venezuelan man, described that throughout the difficult journey across the Americas, all he was doing was:
“Buscando una oportunidad de vida y una mejor calidad de vida, buscando una forma en la que me puedan dar una oportunidad o de tener mis documentos. Buscar un estatus.”
“Looking for an opportunity and a better quality of life, searching for a way in which they can give me the opportunity of having documents… a chance to have a status.”
— Daniel, Venezuelan Man, 46
ICE now weaponizes these discriminatory views of Venezuelans, painting them as gang members or terrorists. These are not unlike the claims with which the government in Venezuela used to persecute normal citizens back home.
The rampant political corruption, lack of transparency and due process, and smothering of dissent are escalating in the United States. This is a story Venezuelans know because they have already witnessed the fall of a functioning democracy to authoritarian excesses.
At the end of the day, a Venezuelan man responds to the question of whether he sees himself as an immigrant, saying:
“Yo le digo una cosa, todos somos iguales porque somos personas, somos seres humanos [a pesar de haber] nacido aquí y allá en diferentes ciudades. O sea, no quiere decir que seas tú más que el otro porque tengas más dinero. Todos vamos a morir, vamos a un solo hueco.”
“I’ll tell you what, we’re all the same because we’re people, we’re human beings [despite being]… born in different cities. In other words, just because you have more money doesn’t mean you’re more than everyone else. We’re all going to die; we’re going to the same hole.”
— Liam, Venezuelan Man, 29
Katheryn Olmos, Research and Data Coordinator at the Immigration Lab and graduate student in the Sociology Research and Practice program at American University.
Emma Wyler, Research Assistant at the Immigration Lab and undergraduate student at American University.
Isabella Serra, Research Assistant at the Immigration Lab and recent graduate of American University.
Edited by Jacqueline Aguirre De La O, Noah Green & Ernesto Castañeda
Image of Mexican Flag with a cloudy sky in the background. Retrieved from Wikimedia Commons.
The current Trump administration has exacerbated the challenges faced by immigrants and asylum seekers. The administration signed Executive Order 14159, which effectively banned people from requesting asylum at the U.S.-Mexico border. This EO narrows legal pathways and exposes migrants and asylum seekers to potential violence and fear.
The Immigration Lab has conducted interviews with migrants and asylum seekers who have recently arrived in the Washington, D.C. metropolitan area. Our research has highlighted a series of commonalities in their experiences, both in their home country and on their migration journey.
Mexican Migration
From our interviews, we find that Mexicans migrate primarily for economic and safety reasons. Mexicans migrate to the U.S. in order to access economic mobility that they did not have access to in their home country, or to escape organized crime and the war on drug trafficking.
“Veracruz es muy violento ahora, ajá. Yo salí para rehacer una nueva vida, para hacer un futuro, para darle algo a mi hijo o mi familia, mi mamá y papá… Por esa es la razón de hacerle una casa a mi mamá, mi papá, porque vivíamos en una casa abandonada. Pobre cada que llovía, cada que nevaba, siempre el agua caía en la cama. Nos mojábamos y yo dije ‘algún día yo voy a hacer una casa’… Aunque sea de lunes a viernes o fin de semana, pero trabajar 5 días, lo que sea, [un trabajo] es lo más importante para mí.”
“Yes, Veracruz is very violent right now. I left to rebuild a new life to make a future, to give something to my son or my family, my mom, and dad…. Yes, that’s what I want. Make a house for my mom, my dad because we lived in an abandoned house. Every time it rained, every time it snowed, the water would always fall on our bed. We would get wet, and I said, ‘one day I will build a house’… Even if it is from Monday to Friday or the weekend, whatever. A job is the most important thing for me.”
— Mateo, Mexican man, 39
Through our analysis, we were able to identify and describe the journey of people migrating through parts of Mexico on their way to the United States. For many individuals, migrating to the U.S. is not the first option. We have also analyzed interviews where Mexican people have gone through up to 7 different states in Mexico just trying to find employment before deciding their best chance at finding work is coming to the U.S.
A participant from Veracruz, Mexico, named Mateo, who is now living in New York City hoping to find a good job to give back to his family in Mexico, recounted one of his experiences:
“Yo crucé. Salí del DF, agarré un autobús, me vine para Chihuahua, salí para Sonora, cruce la Frontera y llegué a Tucson y de ahí seguí hasta Phoenix, Arizona.”
“I crossed. I left from Mexico City, I took a bus, I came to Chihuahua, it left for Sonora, I crossed the border, and I arrived in Tucson and from there I stayed traveling until Phoenix, Arizona.”
— Mateo, Mexican man 39
Map of Mateo’s Journey. Map retrieved from Google Maps, edited by Katheryn Olmos.
Mexico as a Place of Transit
Many of our participants across different nationalities mentioned Mexico as part of their migration journey, and they noted the dangers faced while traversing the country, even after migrating through the Darien Gap, where they encounter deadly terrain and the remnants of the diseased. Participants shared that that Mexico is the worst part of their journey.
“Porque la selva para nosotros fue– caminar, caminar, caminar. Nos veíamos, por lo menos por donde nosotros pasamos. No vimos ningún peligro de que nos hicieran daño ni de eso. Sino que fue caminar arriesgar la vida en cuanto a los ríos y eso nada más. Pero cuando llegamos a México eran ya las personas que nos querían hacer daño.”
“Because the jungle, for us, was just walking––walking, walking…it was more about risking our lives with the rivers and all that. But when we got to Mexico, that’s when there were people who wanted to harm us.”
— Alison, Venezuelan woman, 32
When travelling through Mexico, our participants encountered cartel activity, including trafficking and extortion. Sofia, a Venezuelan woman who migrated through Mexico, recalled the fear of being kidnapped or killed by organized crime members.
“Lo que pasa es que en México hay muchos–cómo le llaman, narcotraficantes? Algo así. Así que ellos se creen dueños de como que decir del pueblo, entonces si, si tú te arriesgabas o equis y cosas o ellos te agarraban, pues tú, este, te podrían matar, te podrían lastimar incluso cortar una parte del cuerpo, cosas así.”
“The thing is that in Mexico, there are many–what do they call it, drug traffickers? Something like that. They think they own the town, so if… they grabbed you, then you could be killed. They could even cut off a part of your body–things like that.”
— Sofia, Venezuelan woman, 32
These cartels serve as informal gatekeepers. When migrants are moving through Mexico, they will likely go through several checkpoints and encounters with cartel members who typically request a fee from migrants so that they can keep moving.
“Cuando yo estuve en México–no me acuerdo el pueblo–yo caminé mucho, 3 días por una vía de tren, porque nos bajaron los carteles y nos dejaron sin nada.”
“When I was in Mexico–not sure what town–I walked for three days on train tracks because the cartels made us get off and left us with nothing.”
— David, Colombian/Venezuelan Man, 28
If migrants refuse to pay the fee or have no money, they risk “disappearing” or being killed. Sometimes, gang members will rob and kidnap migrants and ask for an outstanding amount of money. Cartel members will ask for an outstanding sum of money.
“Como que en un desierto y [los pandilleros] nos agarraron y ellos nos decían que nos iban a matar. Que querían 3,000 dólares por cabeza.”
“It was like a desert, and [the gang members] grabbed us and told us they were gonna kill us. They wanted 3,000 dollars per capita.”
— David, Colombian/Venezuelan Man, 28
Paying organized crime to make the journey to the U.S. border is part of the immigration process, though it is unclear what the relationship is between the cartel and government authorities. Diego, a young Venezuelan man, recalls meeting and paying a cartel member to accompany him to the port of entry where his CBP One appointment was scheduled.
“Tuve que llegar donde otra gente como un mismo cartel, que uno le pagaba una plata para que ellos te dejaban pasar tranquilo y todo. Les pagué y nos estuvieron los dos días que volamos dos días antes y de allí ellos mismos nos trajeron. Nos soltaron allí en el puerto y cuando ya pasé ya pues la felicidad de uno estar aquí ya todo fue, pues mejor.”
“I had to go to some other people, like from a cartel, and I paid them some money because they would let you pass through calmly and all that. I paid them, and they stayed with us during the two days after we flew in, and from there, they themselves brought us. They dropped us off there at the port, and when I crossed, well, the happiness of being here, everything just felt, well, better.”
— Diego, Venezuelan man, 20
Mexico as a Place of Allyship
During the Biden administration, Venezuelans would remain in Mexico for months, even years, before attaining an appointment on the CBP One app. Despite the dangers in Mexico, many of our participants were able to persevere with the help of Mexican citizens. Some good Samaritans in Mexico provided shelter, work, and food to migrants passing through.
“No conocía a nadie, nada, o sea mi vida era el trabajo y pues no todos los mexicanos, pero hay unos que sí son muy, muy malos pues con uno… [Una señora] nos propuso, que sí, trabajáramos de las 7 [de la mañana] hasta las 10 de la noche y le dijimos, o sea, le dijimos que sí. Empezamos a vivir allí en casa de pues ella no nos cobraba que si la comida ni nada de eso, o sea, dormíamos allí. Gracias a Dios nos hicimos muy amigos de ella, y del hijo, y de la hija también. Este y allí no, pues nos hicimos panas del hijo … ya estábamos allí, pues, bien diría yo. Y allí duramos, bueno, allí dure yo todo… ese tiempo. Y trabajé hasta que me salió la cita [de CBP One].”
“I didn’t know anyone, nothing—My life was just work. And not all Mexicans, but there are some who are really, really mean to you… [A lady] offered us [a job] from 7 in the morning to 10 at night…we told her yes. We started living at her house, and she didn’t charge us for food or anything like that, I mean, we like, we slept there. Thank God we became really good friends with her, and with her son, and daughter too. And there, well, we became friends with the son… So yeah, we were doing pretty well, I’d say. And I stayed there, well, I stayed there that whole time. And I worked until I got my [CBP One] appointment.”
— Diego, Venezuelan man, 20
David, a Venezuelan man, recalls his time on La Bestia–also known as “The Train of Death”– where passengers are vulnerable to starvation, cold nights, extortion, kidnapping, injuries, and even death.
“Gracias a Dios, mira, nos montamos en esa bestia de al día y medio, teníamos hambre de todo y en ese camino como teníamos como un día y medio en esa bestia montado y pasamos por un pueblo que en el pueblo tiraban cosas a la gente.
Mira eso fue como que, Dios mío, si, yo estaba acostada [un carril] así me cae así, pero en la cara… me cayó fue una bolsa de jamón. Y al ratico tirado, otra de pan, y yo entre mi, ¿Será que estoy soñando o qué? Yo estaba en eso me entiendes. Y pero yo digo ‘Dios mío, señor, yo no puedo creer, ¿será?’
Y me paro yo alegre y… empiezo [a comer], yo me atraganté y ahí mismito que viene mi amigo con una garrafa de agua de 5 litros y [dice], ‘Hermano mira lo que agarré: el agua!’ Y yo, ‘Amigo mira lo que yo tengo aquí!’
Mira eso fue lo yo digo que eso fue uno de los momentos más difíciles de mi vida. Esa hambre y esa sed que yo tenía mira ahí se me quitó todo.”
“Thank God, look, we got on La Bestia, and after a day and a half, we were starving and everything. And on that journey, since we had been on La Bestia for about a day and a half, we passed through a town where people were throwing stuff at folks.
Look, it was like, my God, I had been lying down on [a boxcar], it hit me right in the face… What hit me was a bag of ham. And a little while later, they threw a bag of bread, and I was like, ‘Am I dreaming or what?’ That’s how I felt, you know? And I said, ‘My God, Lord, I can’t believe this—is this real?’
So, I stood up all happy and… I started eating, and I started choking from eating too fast. And right then, my friend shows up with a 5-liter water jug and says, ‘Brother, look what I got—water!’ And I said, ‘Friend, look what I’ve got here!’
Look, I tell you, that was one of the hardest moments of my life. That hunger and thirst I had—man, it all went away right there.” — David, Colombian/Venezuelan man, 28
Image of people giving migrants bags with food, drinks, and resources for migrants travelling on La Bestia. Retrieved from Wikimedia Commons.
Mexican strangers, yet friends and allies, save lives with their generosity. However, in order to resolve the violence against those who reside in Mexico, the government must take action.
Key Takeaways
It is important in understanding that Mexican migrants are not all the same ––and that Mexican migration is complex. For many, migration is more than a destination, it’s more than Point A and Point B. It is important to understand Mexico as a place of internal displacement and international passage.
The border Texas shares with Mexico is one of the most populated in the country, where both Mexicans and Americans use entry points to go to work, travel, transport commerce, and more. Now, the U.S.-Mexico border faces daily difficulties with the current administration’s immigration policies. Border security and enforcement have largely increased – the image above displays military security from the Mexican Government, with Border Patrol Agents on the other side.
Image of the US-Mexico Southern Border (The Reynosa-McAllen border). Retrieved from CLALS/Veronica Gomez.
The “Remain in Mexico” Policy was implemented by the first Trump Administration, where the Department of Homeland Security requires asylum seekers migrating to the United States by land to wait in Mexico while their cases are pending. This not only puts Mexican border cities, such as Reynosa, in a difficult spot being responsible for them, but most importantly, it puts all immigrants at risk. CBP One partly improved the situation. Now, CBP One no longer works, it is harder for international migrants to arrive at the border, and it is almost impossible to enter by asking for asylum between ports of entry or at ports of entry without passports and visas. Some international immigrants will settle in Mexico, some in a third country, and others will go back to the places they left.
Katheryn Olmos is a Research Assistant at the Center for Latin American and Latino Studies and a graduate student at the Sociology Research and Practice program at American University.
Veronica Gomez is a Research Assistant at the Immigration Lab and an undergraduate at American University.
Edited byErnesto Castañeda, Director, and Noah Green,Joseph Fournier, intern at the Center for Latin American and Latino Studies and the Immigration Lab.
The administration uses a checklist of items, including physical markers like tattoos, to determine these individuals’ association with Tren de Aragua. Although in reality, the Tren de Aragua gang members do not use any specific tattoos.
I am an expert on immigration, and I think it is important to understand why classifying Tren de Aragua as a foreign terrorist organization has sparked debate among observers.
One important reason is that Tren de Aragua is primarily a profit-driven group, not an ideological one – placing the organization more firmly in the transnational organized crime category rather than a political terrorist group.
Tren de Aragua originated as a small prison gang in the early 2000s within Tocorón prison in Venezuela’s state of Aragua, located near the country’s capital, Caracas.
Over the past 25 years, Tren de Aragua has expanded rapidly across South and Central America, and evolved into a transnational criminal organization under the leadership of Hector Guerrero Flores. Also known as Niño Guerrero, Flores is a 41-year-old Venezuelan who first served time in Tocorón prison in 2010 for killing a police officer before he escaped for the first time in 2012. His current location is not known.
Flores is wanted by the U.S. and Colombia for various crimes related to expanding the group’s criminal network throughout South and Central America.
Today, an estimated 5,000 people are affiliated with Tren de Aragua, which is mainly focused on human trafficking and other crimes targeting migrants. The gang has also been linked to other criminal organizations in Latin America and is involved with extortion, kidnapping, money laundering and drug smuggling. The number of active members in the United States is in the low hundreds, and clearly the great majority of Venezuelans here are not members.
Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem arrives at the presidential palace in San Salvador, El Salvador, to discuss the deportation of Venezuelan immigrants to the country on March 26, 2025. Alex Brandon-Pool/Getty Images
Different end goals
Tren de Aragua has expanded in part because of its ability to exploit weak governance within the state of Aragua, and eventually across Venezuela, which faces political instability and a weak economy. An expansion beyond Venezuela has allowed the gang to connect with other transnational criminal networks.
Most accepted definitions of terrorism say it is a kind of violence, usually used against civilians, motivated by political and ideological beliefs and goals. Tren de Aragua does not fit that definition. It does not have a political ideology and therefore is not an actual terrorist organization.
The U.S. government considers a foreign terrorist organization a foreign group that engages in terrorist activity, or plans to do so, in a way that threatens the security of U.S. nationals or the country more broadly.
While transnational criminal organizations and foreign terrorist organizations both engage in violence and illicit activities, their end goals are different.
Terrorist groups and transnational criminal organizations are not the same
Tren de Aragua, as well as other transnational criminal groups like MS-13 – which originated in Los Angeles but now operates throughout the Americas – and the Sinaloa cartel, carry out illegal, violent activities across borders in order to make money.
These groups do not have political or ideological motives beyond creating conditions to maximize their own profits. They do not aim to take political power in the U.S. or elsewhere, or try to remake society in their own image. That is beyond their purview and capabilities.
Properly distinguishing between terrorist organizations and transnational criminal organizations is crucial for devising effective policies and responses to their violence. Mislabeling these groups can lead to inappropriate responses such as putting aside civil liberties, due process and human rights.
Incorrectly classifying Tren de Aragua and other criminal groups as terrorist organizations could shift U.S. foreign policy and resources toward counterterrorism efforts and away from decreasing the power and violence exercised by organized crime and drug cartels in many parts of Latin America.
However, the way in which many Venezuelans and other immigrants have been deported from the country over the past few months without passing through immigration court seems to indicate that the main rationale for the talk about alien enemies and these terrorist designations is to aid in the goal of mass deportations, rather than to fight domestic or international terrorism.
If the U.S. truly wants to curb undocumented immigration and reduce drug and human trafficking, then I believe that it should ensure that its classification of these organizations is accurate and aligned with its actual objectives.
Melissa Vasquez, a graduate student at American University studying international affairs and the Northern Triangle in Central America, contributed to this piece.
On March 1st, 2025, President Trump passed Executive Order 14224 making English the official language of the United States; this decision will undoubtedly have profound societal effects, further marginalizing migrant communities and diminishing multiculturalism in the U.S. By examining this order alongside a summary of “Immigrants Want to, and Do, Learn the Local Language,” Chapter Four of Immigration Realities: Challenging Common Misconceptions by Ernesto Castañeda and Carina Cione, it is possible to see how this action will affect the lives of millions across the U.S.
This Executive Order revokes President Clinton’s 2000 policy requiring language assistance for non-English speakers. Executive Order 13166 (“Improving Access to Services for Persons with Limited English Proficiency”) helped non-native speakers access essential services, including government documents, healthcare forms, and voting materials, and its absence could leave millions without access to these vital resources. The dynamics of language barriers are rooted in both historical and contemporary struggles faced by immigrants in the U.S, and Clinton’s 2000 policy was designed to ensure that non-English speakers could access government services without facing language-based discrimination. Trump’s order frames English as central to a cohesive American identity, which is inherently multifaceted and complex.
Supporters of this recent order argue that designating one language will improve the efficiency of government operations and promote national unity. However, this change can have serious consequences, especially for immigrant communities who rely on translated government materials for essential services. With over 68 million U.S. residents speaking a language other than English at home, Executive Order 14224 threatens to further marginalize a significant portion of the population both through limited required accessibility to government services and further reinforcement of misconceptions about migrants’ desire and ability to learn English.
As Castañeda and Cione’s book highlights, the challenges non-English speakers are far more complex than they appear. Many immigrants, especially those from Latin America, face significant social, economic, and legal barriers to learning English. Even with sufficient economic means, access to language education varies by region and available free time. Discrimination adds another layer of difficulty, with nearly half of Hispanic immigrants feeling judged for their English abilities. As a result of various obstacles, many are left isolated and unable to fully integrate into American society. A policy that systematically and socially upholds English as the only possible standard for success will only worsen these challenges.
Language assimilation is further complicated when considering the gendered challenges of language learning. Immigrant women, particularly in Latino communities, often face more difficulty learning English due to domestic pressures, cultural expectations, and fears of discrimination. This reinforces cycles of economic and social marginalization, as women are often left without the tools to access better opportunities.
Language barriers can have serious consequences for mental and physical health, leading to stress, isolation, and even misdiagnosis in healthcare settings. It is vital to uphold and validate the multicultural realities of the U.S. in all spaces and having that upheld in government accessibility is a crucial part of inclusion. Lack of support for bilingualism and multicultural identity can lead second and third generation migrants to lose contact with their linguistic and cultural heritage, which has proven to be harmful to community health and well-being. The executive order’s reduction of language assistance programs will only worsen disparities and perpetuate negative perceptions of multilingualism in the U.S.
The implications of Executive Order 14224 are clear: it risks exacerbating the social and economic divides between English-speaking citizens and immigrants. While the goal of national unity is important, the needs of non-English speakers should not be overlooked. If the federal government reduces its support for language assistance, vulnerable immigrant populations will face even greater challenges in accessing essential services, deepening existing inequalities. Policymakers must consider the long-term impact of such decisions on social cohesion and the well-being of all citizens, regardless of language and background.
Sophia Robinson is a Research Assistant at the Center for Latin American & Latino Studies at American University
USCIS Application Support Center, retrieved from wikimedia
A memorandum was issued on February 14 by U.S. Citizen and Immigration Services (USCIS) acting Director Andrew Davidson that has effectively paused all pending immigration applications filed by migrants already living in the United States. The USCIS cited fraud and security concerns as the reasons for the halt, and the application freeze will remain in place indefinitely as government officials investigate and identify potential fraud cases
Thousands of Migrants Left in Limbo
Changes announced by the Trump administration directly impact a number of migrants, including from Latin America and the Caribbean as well as Ukraine, who have received legal entry and stay in the United States from categorical parole programs established under the Biden administration. Among them includes beneficiaries under Uniting for Ukraine, created in 2022 to provide Ukrainian citizens fleeing from Russia’s invasion legal entry to the United States. Applicants under the Cuba, Haiti, Nicaragua, Venezuela (CHNV) Parole Program are also affected. Initiated in 2023, this humanitarian parole program allowed nationals from these countries to seek stability and refuge in the U.S. In the first six months of the program, nearly 160,000 Cubans, Haitians, Nicaraguans, and Venezuelans arrived lawfully under this legal process. The latest data from USCIS shows that in December 2024, right before Trump’s inauguration, 27,340 migrants arrived in the United States with parole grants.
Applicants under the Family Reunification Parole (FRP) Program will also be affected. This program was made to reunite eligible individuals from El Salvador, Guatemala, Honduras, Colombia, and Haiti with family in the United as they wait for a family-based green card. It was created, in part, to discourage migrants from making dangerous crossings at the southern border by instead offering a legal migration pathway.
Lastly, those who have pending applications for Temporary Protective Status (TPS) from certain countries, including Haiti, Ukraine, and Venezuela, will also be impacted. The TPS program allows individuals to seek protection in the United States from ongoing armed conflict, environmental disasters, or extraordinary conditions. A TPS designation can be granted in 6, 12, or 18 months increments and recipients will need to re-register to keep their protection. However, Venezuelan and Ukrainian beneficiaries have had their protections extended until October 2025, while Haitian beneficiaries are covered through February 2026. As of March of 2024, there were 863,800 people living in the U.S. with TPS.
Legal Pathways Shut Down, Deportation Risks Rise
The programs previously mentioned provide work permits, travel authorization, protection from deportation, and legal migration channels to individuals from designated countries seeking a better life away from persecution and poverty or to reunite with family members in the U.S. However, under this policy shift, officials will no longer process any pending applications for these programs. Effectively, impeding applicants’ ability to transition to another legal status and making them vulnerable to deportation from the country.
In just his first month in office, President Trump has deported 37,660 people, and this number is expected to rise in the coming months due to the halts on the programs above that leave those already in the U.S. without legal status. It is evident that while Trump aggressively targets undocumented immigrants, he also has little regard for those who arrive under excruciating circumstances through legal migration processes.
Valeria Chaconis a research assistant with the Center for Latin American and Latino Studies at American University in Washington, DC
The United States is where migrants come for that golden opportunity. To live a better life. To work, to be safe, to get an education. But once one leaves “La Jaula de Oro,” (“The Golden Cage”) they can’t return. All they have might be a green or red card, or maybe no card at all.
The U.S. has a visa program for temporary workers in “specialty occupations” called the H1-B visas. During Trump’s first term, he claimed the H1-B visa program was “very, very, bad for workers” and Suspended the H1-B visa program in 2020. Trump has switched his stance on H1-B visas, claiming “it’s a great program.” After Elon Musk showed his support for H-1B visas, nothing has happened to support H-1B Visas meaning we might still see the reform that was outlined in Project 2025 to make the program ‘better.’
Other types of visa programs might be affected within the next couple of months, student visas, and visas for survivors of human trafficking and other crimes. Another program that is getting attacked is Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA). All visas get a card and DACA gets a work permit card. Just another card to keep ahold of.
A migrant factory worker from Chicago said, “I have been waiting for my daughter to turn 21 so I can get my green card.” This working migrant applied to the Diversity Immigrant Visa Program (DV) 15 years ago and is still waiting for a Green Card. The DV program is a lottery. In 2023, the DV program had nearly 9.6 million qualified entries and only 50 thousand recipients.
The cost of green cards is already so high, that the filing cost for a family-based green card is approximately 3 thousand dollars for an applicant applying from within the United States. Other categories of green cards may have different costs depending on which one the person is aiming for, not including legal service fees. For DACA it costs $555 to renew online. The most expenses being EB-5 visas, which are for foreign investors that has made investments within the United States around one million dollars and created 10 permanent full-time jobs. For these pathways are not accessible to everyone due to the cost. While some immigrants may not have green cards, visas, or DACA, one thing that they might have are Red Cards ━which can make a difference in whether a person stays in the U.S. or gets deported. Red Cards were made back in 2007 by the Immigrant Legal Resource Center. Red cards are used to protect undocumented immigrants from U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) or U.S. Customs and Border Protection (CBP). They can come in 19 different languages, including Ukrainian, Spanish, Chinese, Arabic, and Tagalog.
Photo of the front and back of a Red Card by Anthony Sandoval
Trump’s “Border Czar,” Tom Homan stated, “For instance, Chicago—very well-educated, they’ve been educated on how to defy ICE, how to hide from ICE.”
On February 25th, President Trump talked about a new type of pathway to citizenship, he calls it a Gold Card. For years, many groups have been asking for an improved way for citizenship or an easier way to come into the United States. The answer was simple: a card that’s worth five million dollars. Ask your friends and family to help cover the cost. It’s that simple… but few people have that type of money. This new card is for investors. The gold card would just replace the EB-5 program.
We don’t need this. Not a 5 million dollar pathway that very few people can pay for. We need another way for citizenship, another way to come into the United States, a faster program that allows people to get green cards and not wait for years. We must remember these people are not “aliens;” they are people. One action that can help is supporting the Dream & Promise Act of 2025 that offers some DACA recipients, immigrant youth, Temporary Protected Status holders, and Deferred Enforced Departure holders a pathway to citizenship.
Anthony Sandoval is a research assistant with the Center for Latin American and Latino Studies and the Immigration Lab at American University in Washington, DC.
Edited by Katheryn Olmos, Ana Gaston, and Ernesto Castañeda,
Image of Welcome to Florida: The Sunshine State sign retrieved from Flikr
The atmosphere is so thick in Florida, you could cut it with a knife. Immigrants feel like they cannot catch a breath. As one immigrant told me, “every day there is something new.” Imagine having to check a map of zones to avoid every time you want to go outside, commuting further away from home to shop for groceries, having to refrain from speaking your native language in public, or avoiding going out to get coffee with a friend to lower the risk of encountering ICE raids or deportation. Living in constant fear, paranoia, and mistrust is no way to live.
State patrols will sit along highways to spot white working vans. In one case, a construction worker was pulled over in his working white van one evening at the end of January because his headlights were “too opaque.” The police officer asked him, “How long have you been in the U.S.?” to which the worker replied, “Over 20 years.” Then the officer gives him a ticket for driving without a license and tells him to go on with his day.
Shortly after the incident, Florida Governor Ron Desantis announced that he would enforce Section 287(g) of the Illegal Immigration Reform and Immigrant Responsibility Act of 1996. Therefore, the Florida Highway Safety and Motor Vehicles (FLHSMV) will join forces with the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE). Through this partnership, ICE authorizes the Florida Highway Patrol to arrest and detain undocumented immigrants. State troopers will now ask individuals about their immigration status on day-to-day traffic stops. Additionally, state troopers are authorized to detain those suspected to be undocumented, regardless of their actual immigration status. This would completely dismiss the notion of “innocent until proven guilty,” leading to racial profiling of Latino drivers and causing fear among Florida residents. Florida residents have seen an increase in law enforcement. Latinos are more frequently reporting seeing people they know stopped and detained by law enforcement. It feels that this policy is only targeting the brown and immigrant community in Florida.
As Florida faces various problems, including the housing crisis, high home and auto insurance premiums, environmental crisis, and idle hurricane impacts, Desantis believes the so-called “immigration crisis” is the biggest issue at hand. On February 13, Desantis signed the “toughest immigration law in the country.” With this legislation, Desantis will allocate $298 million for detaining and deporting immigrants and increase the penalty for crimes committed by immigrants, including requiring the death penalty for undocumented immigrants who commit capital crimes. Additionally, Desantis is creating a new crime of entering the state of Florida as an undocumented person on top of the already existing federal crime of entering the U.S. through an irregular pathway.
There has been an increase in people moving in from out-of-state, including former residents of New York, California, and New Jersey. Many of them are moving to a state where their out-of-state wages for remote work or social security payments get them further, and the politics better align with their conservative beliefs. The changing demographics and anti-immigrant politics in Florida have also been creating a hostile environment for immigrant Floridians.
While Florida is experiencing an increase in residents from out of state, there is also an increase in immigrant residents moving to safer places out of state. Fleeing persecution is a recurring theme for immigrants; they often find themselves in a state of movement and fear while hoping to one day achieve the American Dream. Those who have lived in Florida for many years, even decades, face significant challenges when it comes to leaving their homes. Many immigrants who have established homes, businesses, children, and pets would prefer to remain in Florida. Immigrants who have built lives in Florida or lack the financial resources to leave are modifying their social and economic behaviors out of fear of deportation.
Florida is already witnessing the impact of migrants no longer participating in their social and economic atmosphere. Businesses that rely on Latino consumers are feeling this impact. Restaurants and other franchises that tend to be busy on weekend nights are empty. Rosy, a frequenter of Jacksonville, Florida’s Latino nightlife, says local Latino bar and club events are practically empty. She states that Latino clubs that always had long wait times to enter now have no lines.
Construction work is down due to high interest rates, weather conditions, and labor shortages. Despite Desantis’ push for mass deportations to solve the housing crisis in Florida, we need immigrants to solve the housing crisis in Florida. On February 20, 6 Mexican workers were detained at a gas station on Southside Blvd. in Jacksonville, Florida. Every day more and more innocent Latinos are detained by ICE. Instilling fear against our most vulnerable yet essential members of the community is not the solution to any of the state’s problems
Katheryn Olmos is a Research Assistant at the Center for Latin American and Latino Studies and a graduate student at the Sociology Research and Practice program at American University.
Edited byErnesto Castañeda, Director, and Emma Wyler, Wilfredo Flores, intern at the Center for Latin American and Latino Studies and the Immigration Lab.
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