As ICE ramps up its crackdown, undocumented people and their loved ones face daily uncertainty, fear and the threat of being torn apart
At the end of June, Madison*, a 29-year-old in Los Angeles, discovered that her best friend was fleeing to Canada. In the midst of President Donald Trump’s continued crackdown on immigration, triggering a wave of protests across LA in June, she says her friend, who is undocumented, had gone radio-silent. “By the time I got a hold of her, she was already organising for her and her family to leave the country,” she says. “I begged her to stay put, but she said she had run out of money and options.” Since Madison is currently in the process of adjusting her immigration status, she says her friend’s recent move felt like a major loss, comparable to “someone dying”. “We’ve both been in LA for almost 20 years, but now she can’t stay and I can’t leave,” she says. “We hugged each other bye, not knowing when we would see each other again.”
Even pre-Trump, America has long made it difficult for the around 11 million undocumented US immigrants, as of 2022, to access employment, housing and health care. Despite immigrants being an addition to America’s diverse cultural fabric and a significant source of labour, the pathway to US citizenship is lengthy, expensive and filled with biases and barriers. Since the start of Trump’s second term in January 2025, however, his administration has taken a flurry of heartless actions to drive up deportation numbers as part of its large-scale immigration crackdown. Thousands of immigrants have lost the ability to reside legally in the US or have been blocked from getting the chance, and so far, ICE agents have been targeting people inside their homes and student housing complexes, deporting children, re-arresting immigrants at their courtroom hearings and hundreds of migrants have been exiled to Salvadoran mega-prison.
According to White House sources, the White House deputy chief of staff, Stephen Miller, is currently calling for ICE to reach an apprehension goal that triples what the agency was hitting when Trump took office, at least 3,000 a day. On the other side of that arbitrary and unreasonable target, however, are millions of immigrants and their loved ones living in fear of being swept up with other longtime residents and workers who are currently being detained. For Sofia*, a 26-year-old based in Texas, this means living in fear of doing “mundane things” with her family. “Growing up, I’ve always known there were ICE raids from time to time, but now every other week they are just showing up in neighbourhoods, Home Depots and gas stations,” she says. “These days, weekends are a stay-at-home thing and, since ICE specifically like to target more Hispanic areas, the simplest thing of getting groceries is pretty nerve-wracking.”
These days, weekends are a stay-at-home thing and, since ICE specifically like to target more Hispanic areas, the simplest thing of getting groceries is pretty nerve-wracking.
Sofia says, alongside the helpful ICE alert posts and texts from her community, she’s starting to see more misinformation being spread as the panic sets in. “People have started saying things that are not necessarily backed by law and, if you’re not doing your research, your own community will scare itself,” she says. “Like, there are rumours of the police tuning into your car radio to listen to your conversations, and I’ve had family members receive calls from what sounds to be a detention centre, just to call everyone up to see that it’s a scam.” Since ICE agents are arresting people in plain clothes, in unmarked cars, Sofia says any gathering of cars or people has become a cause for alarm.
Misinformation and fear-inducing rumours are not only a result of new immigration policies being enacted at a dizzying pace and the lack of resources for immigrants in America, but they are also a tactic. The Trump administration had been spreading its own rumours about sweeps to make the threat appear more immediate and widespread. The fear is so constant and debilitating that, at this point, Sofia believes her family is choosing between having a livable wage or gaining peace of mind by leaving the US. For Sam*, a 25-year-old in New Jersey, the new policies and measures pose the risk of her family being separated. “Trump’s administration just took away Temporary Protected Status (TPS) for Venezuelans, so whenever my older sister’s expires, she will be back to being fully undocumented again,” says Sam.
Sam and her younger sister are American citizens, and her mum recently became a resident, but her brother and father are undocumented with no path to citizenship. “The raids are a constant reminder that we are not safe here,” she says. Before Trump, she says her family once hoped they could all gain citizenship together. “There hasn’t been amnesty for immigrants in the US post-Reagan, but there was this hope from that time to now that maybe if we pay our taxes and be good citizens, there’s a chance they [her undocumented family members] would get some kind of amnesty,” she says. “With this administration, it feels like that’s never going to happen, and who even knows if that would even come in the years after this, right?”
It’s been hard trying to convince them to abandon the American dream. But it doesn’t exist here anymore, if it even ever did.
The loved ones of undocumented immigrants in America, like Sam, are unfortunately used to living in fear of receiving a dreaded phone call. “That fear has always been constant,” she says. Recently, however, it’s become so much more intensified that Sam and her family, like Madison’s friend and many others, are plotting their exit. “I’ve been talking to my mum and figured the people who are safest here can stay and work for a bit before we all find a home where we can exist in peace,” says Sam. “There’s very clearly no work for my dad, who has been here for 40 years, and no future for us to have a home here safely.” The most difficult thing for Sam’s parents to shake, however, has been letting go of the hope that brought them to America in the first place. “It’s been hard trying to convince them to abandon the American dream,” she says. “But it doesn’t exist here anymore, if it even ever did.”
* All names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.