Category: Uncategorized (Page 1 of 16)

“Gonzalez-Ardia,” the immigration court judge reads out as he hears his twelfth removal proceeding of the afternoon. A little girl with braids, dressed in a pink coat and pants, just shy of seven, jumps off her seat. The girl holds her mother’s hand as the pair make their way past the wooden banister towards the defendant’s table, opposite from the government attorney. The girl clumsily climbs into the wooden chair almost twice her size, as her mother slips a pair of headsets on her.

“Are you Hallery?” the judge asks in English. The words flow through the headset as the courtroom translator repeats the question in Spanish.

The pair have driven 13 hours from their home in Illinois to the Executive Office of Immigration Review court in Newark, New Jersey. The mother points to the little girl who stares intently at the translator.

The removal hearing is not for the mother. It’s for the little girl—and she is without an attorney.

Of the 40 or so people who appear before the judge over the next two and a half hours only two have attorneys, one of whom phones into court. For each defendant that appears before him, the judge repeats the same question over and over: “Do you have a lawyer?”

The answer is almost always the same: “No.

“It’s so depressing when you’re a lawyer and you go into immigration court and you see how many people don’t have representation,” Michele Pistone, a law professor at Villanova University, explains. “It’s kind of like they’re on this assembly line and we say that we’re giving them ‘process,’ but they don’t understand what’s happening,” she says.

For precisely this reason, in 1958, the Department of Justice (DOJ) established the Recognition & Accreditation (R&A) Program—to increase legal representation for low-income immigrants, according to the American Bar Association. The Program certifies accredited representatives, non-lawyers who can represent immigrants in court. Accredited representatives must work at non-profits designated as recognized organizations.

Despite the program’s 66 year history, there are still 1,413 undocumented people in the U.S. for every “charitable legal professional,” according to the Center for Migration Studies (CMS). In New Jersey, that number increases nearly two-fold, to 2,687 undocumented people per legal professional.

Nicole Rodriguez, who works at a New Jersey non-profit helping domestic violence survivors apply for asylum, is one of those accredited representatives—taking on over 60 cases at a time. Immigrants in removal proceedings who have legal representation, like Rodriguez’s clients, are 15 times more likely to seek relief, and 5.5 times more likely to obtain relief, according to a study published by the University of Pennsylvania.

“It’s very much a program that has been in the shadows,” Pistone explains. Pistone has heard from former students who’ve become accredited that some officers at USCIS—which conducts site visits for the R&A Program—have never heard of an accredited representative. “I’ve heard of judges who’ve never heard of an accredited rep,” she adds.


The Representation Crisis
In the removal proceedings court in Newark, as the afternoon session for hearings draws closer, a line of about a dozen people extends out the entryway of the courtroom into the hall. Some are dressed in immaculately pressed suits with manila envelopes containing paperwork they will need for court. Others wear jeans with translucent binders. Some carry children with them.

As the Clerk of Office begins to check people in at the door, the line continues to grow. “What’s your case number?,” she asks. “You have a lawyer?” Most repeat the same answer: “No.”

“We can fit another five,” the guard yells down the hall. The wooden bunches begin to fill up dangerously close to the courtroom’s maximum occupancy of 32 people.

As the “defendants” sort themselves among the wooden benches, they sit facing a seal above the judge’s desk with a bald eagle and an American flag. “QUI PRO DOMINA JUSTITIA SEQUITUR,” the inscription reads: “Attorney General who prosecutes on behalf of our Lady Justice.”

But justice is a foreign concept to those who sit in the courtroom. Over the next three hours the judge will hear some 40 odd cases. Only one case will have a lawyer physically present.

For every person who tells the judge they do not have a lawyer, the judge’s response is always the same: “I’m going to give you the list of lawyers who can represent you free or at low cost. You can choose to get one,” the judge responds. “I will give you another court date.” The judge’s gaze lowers. “Even if you cannot find a lawyer you have to come back to court or else you might be ordered removed.”

“You need to come back to this court on January 13, 2029 at 1:30 p.m. in the afternoon.”

There are currently 9 million immigration cases pending at USCIS, and 3 million at EOIR, Robyn Lieberman, Associate Director of the Migration and Refugee Protection Strategic Initiative Group, says. But as of October 2024, there are only 2,561 accredited representatives working at 875 recognized organizations, nationally.

“It’s an underutilized tool in the representation crisis,” Lieberman says. “The Program has been on the books since 1958,” she continues, “and there’s never been more than 2,500 at a time.”

“Most of the people who are coming will not have representation by a lawyer,” Julia Preston, who has covered immigration at the New York Times for over a decade, explains. “You’re looking at a process that, six years from now, you’re very likely to fail in court.”


The Waiting Game
To become an accredited representative, a prospective representative submits an application with their recognized organization to the DOJ. Rodriguez says, in all, her accreditation took about three months.

But when Rodriguez applied for accreditation, she had no idea how long the process would take. The DOJ provides no such information.

In 2022, backlogs for accredited representatives reached 12 to 18 months, according to Lieberman. “It is impossible for somebody to put their career on hold for that long,” Lieberman says. “It’s impossible for organizations to keep open cases that long.” In addition, funding for non-profit organizations often depends on quotas that measure how many cases they process.

“That’s basically shutting down the program,” Lieberman says.

While the processing time decreased to one to three months between February of 2023 and 2024, it has begun to increase again. In September, applications took six to eight months to process—double the three to four months it should be taking—according to Lieberman.

“There should be transparency on the website of how long you can expect to wait for your answer from DOJ,” Lieberman says.

But the review process itself has transparency issues as well. There are currently two immigration judges—removed from the bench for harassment—who are adjudicating R&A applications, according to Lieberman.

“These are two judges that have had multiple complaints,” she explains. “They are asking some very unusual questions,” she continues, “that we think are beyond the scope of the regulations.”


A Double Life
Between 9:00 a.m. and 5:00 p.m. you can find Kimberly Betz at her office desk at Princeton University’s Center for Career Development with a plaque that reads, “Executive Director.” But during the evenings and weekends, her laptop used to reply to student emails turns into a forum for a different kind of work: she is an accredited representative.

“When I’m working on these cases, it’s easy to spend eight to ten hours on the weekend,” Batz says. “It might be three to twelve hours a week.”

Batz works at Arise, a Pittsburgh based non-profit, helping people file asylum claims and prepare for their proceedings. “There are no paid employees,” Batz explains. “Even, Jen,” she says referring to the founder, “there’s no money to pay her a salary at this point.” “She works out of her home.”

The organization has no office space: the website reads that the operations for Arise are fully remote. With the exception of one woman who is retired, all of Arise’s employees have full-time jobs outside of Arise.

Batz only has capacity to work on one case at a time and can only take on a single case for a year. “What we’re saying to people now is, if it takes, you know, three years before you hear anything back, you can come back to us and see if we can sort of fit you back in,” she says. “But we can’t stay on your case for beyond a year.”

With court backlogs at an all-time high, cases are rarely scheduled within the one-year timeline that Arise operates on.

Back in immigration court, the judge continues hearing cases. “Now that I have your application for asylum, I’m going to schedule you for a hearing,” the Newark immigration court judge tells a Haitian woman. “It’s going to be on May 4th, 2029 at 1:30 in the afternoon.”

“You can hire a lawyer at any time you wish.”

But asylum-seekers have much less agency than the immigration judge might lead them to believe. Manuel and Magda who filed for political asylum cannot afford a lawyer. “We were offered pro bono support but we would still have to pay some legal fees,” Magda says.

“They were charging $8,000, $10,000, $15,000,” Emanuel recalls. “We’re saving up,” Magda explains. “We’re waiting for the day that we have to get a lawyer.”

Manuel and Magda came to the U.S. from Colombia with their daughter in 2022. “We can’t go back to Colombia,” Magda says. “My father was a member of FARC.”

In 2016, a peace accord was negotiated between the Colombian government and the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC)—the main paramilitary group in Colombia at the time, according to the U.S. Department of State. Around 13,000 combatants were disarmed.

Magda’s father was one of them.

“There’s a new armed group called Disidencias de las FARC and they’re going after people who chose to put down their arms—and their families,” Magda says.

Both of Magda’s parents are still in Colombia. “My father is under vigilance by a paramilitary group,” she says.

But even if Magda and Emanuel do find a lawyer, not all lawyers can be trusted. “Lawyers would tell us, ‘I’m pro bono, but the cost to start the paperwork is this much,’” Magda explains. “There have been cases where people have paid $7,000, and then they find out they’re getting deported because the lawyer hasn’t done anything.”

“We’re scared of getting scammed.”

Without legal representation Magda and Emanuel have been left to navigate a complex system alone. “What took the most amount of time was figuring out how to fill out the application,” Magda says, “so that what we wrote wouldn’t be used against us later.”

Filing the application is only half the battle. The court does not notify applicants if a court date has been moved. “We check on it every day,” Magda says. “They don’t tell you if your court date was changed. It’s your responsibility to check it,” Emanuel adds.

“Someone we knew had a court date in 2025,” Emanuel recalls. “They realized the week of their new hearing date that it had been moved to February of 2024,” he continues. “They got a deportation order.”

“The system is not set up to help them,” Batz explains.

“It both makes me angry and desperately sad,” she continues. “For me, this is the way I can do something that I feel like is making a difference in a positive way.”


No Contacts
Neither Magda nor Emanuel have heard of the R&A Program. Even if they had, there is no way for asylum seekers to directly contact an accredited representative. Despite the program’s goal to increase legal representation for low-income immigrants, EOIR only lists the telephone numbers of recognized organizations. Contact information for accredited representatives is entirely missing.

Lieberman calls it “the referral rejection loop.” “They get a name of an organization that can represent them, and then they pick up the phone, and they’re getting ‘This voicemail is full,’ or ‘Please don’t call us for another two weeks,’” she explains.

“How are people supposed to contact these organizations?,” Lieberman asks.

Rodriguez’s clients, who are survivors of domestic violence, may not have safe access to a phone inside their home, Rodriguez says.

The DOJ has the contact information of every accredited representative. “People apply with their emails, and they communicate with the DOJ by email,” Lieberman explains.

“This is a public program,” Pistone says. “Part of the purpose is for the public to contact these people.”

But Lieberman says the lack of data on accredited representatives is typical. There has been no comprehensive study of the R&A Program in the Program’s 66 year history. “There’s no basic data in the field at all,” Lieberman explains. “We have no idea how long the typical average stay is, or tenure is, for an accredited rep.”

In May of this year, Villanova University and CMS announced the first comprehensive audit of the R&A Program. The audit is being conducted through surveys that closed in October, according to Pistone.

With the new President-elect, however, the future of the R&A program remains uncertain. “The R&A Program is not established by law, it’s regulatory,” Matthew Lisecki, Senior Research & Policy Analyst at CMS, explains.

“It can be done away with just an executive action.”

Anxieties also exist for Lieberman. “I’m living in fear that if there is a Trump administration, I don’t know what’s going to happen to the DOJ office that does the accreditations,” says Lieberman.

“We’re going to have to fight like hell to keep the office open.”

For now, Manuel and Magda still don’t have a lawyer. They say they avoid thinking about what they will tell their nine-year-old daughter if their asylum application is denied. “Our daughter is old. She’s smart,” Manuel says. “If our asylum application is rejected, we can’t go back to Colombia.” He continues, “We’re just trying not to think about it.”

“FARC has branches in Panama, Venezuela, and Mexico,” Magda says. “They have alliances with cartels. Nowhere is really safe.”

Magda says that while the family waits, they try to lead a quiet “American” life. “All we can do at this moment is really focus on the asylum case.”

“All we can do in this moment is wait.”

From the dining room of a two-bedroom apartment in East Orange, Marie* listens to a sermon on the radio in Haitian Creole, her native language. She reaches across the checkered tablecloth, grabs her phone, and glances at the screen. It’s 7 p.m. She places the phone back on the table and, with an awkward movement, stands up. It’s time for her to head to her job at a fast-food restaurant where she’s worked as a cook since arriving in the United States in 2021. Despite the challenges of her job, she is content with it as it allows her to support her family back in Haiti. Yet with the election of Donald Trump, she worries that she will soon lose this life she was only just starting to feel comfortable in. “He’s not going to do it,” she tells me when I ask her if she thinks Trump will actually deport Haitians en masse. Something in her voice suggests she is only trying to convince herself, that deep down she knows Trump is serious, and that terrifies her.

Mass deportations were one of Trump’s central promises during his 2024 election campaign. He repeatedly promised to carry out the “largest deportation program” in U.S. history. Now that he’s set to occupy the White House after a landslide election victory in November, migrants are anxiously preparing for what a Trump presidency could mean for them. Specifically, Trump has promised to end programs like humanitarian parole and Temporary Protected Status (TPS) for Haiti, which have allowed thousands of Haitian migrants to enter the United States legally in the past decade. With the backdrop of these promises, Trump’s election has caused anxiety levels to rise within the Haitian community. Many are fleeing cities where they believe they might be more vulnerable to unfair targeting by immigration enforcement. Such is the case Springfield, Ohio, a city that found itself in the Republican Party’s spotlight in the final weeks of the campaign and where Trump has promised to launch his deportation agenda. Many have left for cities like Boston and New Jersey while others have opted for international destinations like Brazil and Canada.

These anxieties were on full display on Nelson’s* family group chat on the day following Trump’s election.

“I really thought Kamala was going to make history today,” read the first message sent on the morning of November 5 by Rose*.

“I never believed that would happen. No chance! I always assumed that Trump would win. How is everyone doing?” says Mike*.

“I want to reassure everyone: Trump does not have the authority to deport anyone. That is a matter for the judiciary. A president can cancel a program, but for someone who is already in the United States, only judges can decide their case. As I said, I supported Trump against the wars in the world and against the LGBTQ folks who wanted to introduce their ideology into the education of kids. No need to panic!” responds Jean*.

Jean is a lawyer educated in Haiti, I am told by Nelson. As suggested by his messages on the group chat, he is a devout Trump supporter. There is a back and forth on the group chat with other people pointing out that Trump is “crazy”, and that he has more authority now since he has both the senate and the Supreme Court on his side. To this, Jean doubles down:

“I understand that he has Congress on his side, which is why he has the power to pass any executive order to cancel the Biden program (that is how the Humanitarian Parole program is called in the Haitian community) … But only a judge can decide if someone who is in the country is not allowed to stay. Try to understand the system and don’t panic! After all, it’s their country. It’s up to us to solve our problems at home.”

This exchange is emblematic of the concerns that are animating the Haitian community in the United States as Trump’s inauguration approaches. There is no doubt that Trump’s administration will be hard on migration. But how exactly? And what does that mean for the Haitian community?

So far, it is widely expected that Trump will sign an executive order ending the Humanitarian Parole program for Haiti. The parole program was launched by the Biden administration to curb the flow of irregular migration to the United States. It was intended to deter migrants from crossing illegally into the United States by providing a legal pathway for eligible individuals. Venezuela was the first country designated for the program in October 2022. Haiti was then designated in January 2023, alongside Cuba and Nicaragua. As of August 2024, U.S. Customs and Border Protection reported that nearly 530,000 people from the four designated countries “arrived lawfully and were granted parole.” Haitians were the largest nationality in this group, accounting for 210,000 of the arrivals, followed by Venezuelans with 117,000 arrivals.

Back in October, however, the Biden administration announced that it would not extend the program. According to Michael Wilner, the Chief Washington Correspondent at McClatchy, this decision was a strategic one. Wilner believes that, anticipating a potential Trump election win, the Biden administration wanted to give “eligible individuals who fall within these groups… time to look at alternative paths to legal status.”

Now that Trump has been elected, the end of the humanitarian parole program is imminent.

“100%, humanitarian is gonna go!”, said Remy, a beneficiary of the parole program who arrived in the United States at the end of last year with his family. “However, TPS is another thing,” he adds.

While the fate of parole is all but certain, the future of Temporary Protected Status (TPS) is harder to determine. Haiti was designated for TPS in 2010 following the devastating earthquake that claimed the lives of more than 300,000 people. Since then, Haiti has been redesignated numerous times with the most recent designation being an 18-month extension on June 28, 2024. With this redesignation, Haitians who entered the United States under parole could apply for Temporary Protected Status. The program’s extension also meant that TPS recipients would be protected from deportation and allowed to work in the United States until at least February 2026. As of March 31, 2024, nearly 200,000 Haitians have been approved for TPS according to the National Immigration Forum. Does Trump’s election risk changing anything? Yes and no.

In 2017, during his first presidency, Trump ended TPS for 59,000 Haitians, a decision that sparked a six-year legal battle in a case known as the Ramos v. Mayorkas case. In 2018, the plaintiffs obtained a preliminary injunction, which automatically extended the legal status of TPS holders for five years until Biden redesignated or extended the program for the affected countries in 2023.

However, as the case was progressing through court, thousands of Haitians flocked to the northern border to seek asylum in Canada. In fact, asylum claims in Canada reached their highest level in decades in 2017 with Haitians accounting “for almost a third (32%) of Canada’s overall increase in referred asylum claims” that year. Seven years later, many suspect that history could repeat itself. Canadian officials are already preparing for an influx of Haitian migrants. But things are very different in Canada. Since 2017, Canada has adopted a number of restrictive immigration measures to deal with the growing disenchantment with the government’s migration policies.

Craig Damian Smith, a political scientist and researcher at York University, has observed the change in Canada’s attitude toward migration in the last decade.

“Canadian public perception is really turning against asylum. It was never a big deal in Canada until 2017. It was not what they call a “ballot box issue”. Public polling said that people did not vote on immigration issues. You couldn’t win elections on it. But now, [things are different].”

The scenario with Haitians back in 2017 has not only affected public perception, it has also led to important policy changes including the extension of the Safe Third Country Agreement.

[talk about the Safe Third Country Agreement and how it got extended]

Craig Damian Smith:

“People started coming. It was Haitians first, and then word got out about this crossing rocks and road and how easy it was. Once word was out, it became a draw for people from around the world and people from the US.”

“Do you think the expansion of the STCA agreement was motivated by what happened in 2017, with the Haitians?” I asked.

“100%! It was 100% based on that!” he responded almost immediately. “Basically this extension of the STCA was just in case of another Trump presidency.”

Stephanie Delia, a Haitian immigration lawyer, feels that uncertainty. Like everyone else, she doesn’t know what Trump is going to do. The best she can do is guess.

“My guess is that he will not end TPS, but instead let it expire”, she says. “Immigration advocates will hopefully file lawsuits and tie [his decision] up in the courts long enough for him to give up on it or for his term to end.”

At the same time, she does not completely discard the possibility that he might go after TPS.

“If he attempts to end TPS before the end of the designation period,” she adds “then I do think he’ll be more successful [than im 2017], unless Congress or the Supreme Court act, which I don’t expect”.

For Nelson, however, there is no doubt that TPS will be included in Trump’s sweep, as well as humanitarian parole. Nelson filed a petition a at the end of last year to have a family member come to the United States under humanitarian parole program. The case is still pending. With each passing day, the chances of the petition being approved before Trump’s inauguration are diminishing. Nelson also believes that Trump will be more successful this time around, not if but when he goes after Temporary Protected Status.

“The American public is already crippled with socio-economic issues such as the [rising] cost of living, the housing crisis, food access, unemployment, and reproductive rights… I don’t foresee much opposition to his fight against “illegal immigrants.”

In a sea of despair, the migrants who are likely to be affected by these policies are holding on to hope. For some, in the face of so much uncertainty, they ground their hope in their faith in God.

“I believe that I will continue to live in the US with my family even after the D T presidency. That’s my faith in God. My other option is to go to Canada if it is possible in case that i have to leave. Otherwise I have no choice but to go back to my country.”

Now fully dressed and ready to go work, Marie stands by the door and looks into emptiness l’air penseur. A few seconds later, she exhales a deep sigh and without looking at me utters these words:

“We are waiting on God. He is the one who put us here. We trust in him!”

She leaves for work, her phone in hand, the Haitian pastor’s voice slowly fading in the background.

“I’m very nervous about this.”

Omar is texting his immigration lawyer in August 2019.

He needs to get his immigration status – he is seeking asylum – so that he can get married. It’s a complex system to navigate, and he needs to hurry. But his lawyer says he can help him.

His lawyer explains that the process includes a fee: a $2000 non-refundable fee to start the case, and another $3000 if the case is approved.

Omar is having money troubles, but he is determined. He is borrowing money from his family and friends so that get through the process and do it correctly. He produces $1500 and his lawyer gives him extra time to get the remaining $500.

“Look, there are immigration centers that have higher rates,” his lawyer texts.

“I know,” Omar replies.

The process takes months, and his lawyer often takes days or weeks to respond to him. On November 30, 2019, Omar texts, “I wanted to know what you have done because you have not said anything to me again.” His lawyer reassures him that the process is still ongoing.

They make an appointment for December 17. On December 16, Omar texts, “Hi, can you confirm what time we will see each other tomorrow and where?”

No response.

Omar texts again on December 22. Then on December 24. And again on December 30, January 3, and January 13.

On January 14, Omar asks, “Hey what’s wrong you’re not answering me.”

The lawyer stops responding to Omar altogether. But the thing is, he isn’t texting a lawyer at all. This whole time, he’s been scammed.

Omar is one of thousands of victims of what the Federal Trade Commission calls “immigration services” scams. Between 2019 and 2023, the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) counted over 3,800 reports of such scams. In many cases, the scammer poses as a lawyer who can help the migrant navigate the complex immigration legal system in the U.S. They infiltrate migrants’ WhatsApps, promising to earn them citizenship – for an up-front fee. Then, they take the migrants’ money, often thousands of dollars, and run.

“People say they are pro bono. They make an appointment, they see your case, and then they ask for money,” Eliana, a Colombian immigrant who has seen her fellow migrants get scammed, explained. “People start to get suspicious when they haven’t received any other calls or follow ups. Then they realize that they’re not lawyers and they were just using you.”

Reverend Juan Carlos Ruiz is the Pastor of the Good Shepherd Church in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, and is a strong advocate and aid for undocumented migrants – especially in becoming U.S. citizens. He has seen many of these scams from the people he cares for, and says the scammers often get off scot-free.

“There’s no accountability because migrants have no means to sue,” he said. “They’ve either spent their last time paying these so-called lawyers, have no knowledge of the legal system and their right to sue, or are terrified to report it in fear of exposing their undocumented status.”

This paralyzing scenario leaves the migrants with even less money than they already had – and still no guide through the U.S. migration legal system.

Amelia Frank-Vitale, Assistant Professor of Anthropology at Princeton and an expert in US immigration and border policy, says that navigating the complex system without guidance is nearly impossible.

“There’s a lot of paperwork, and you have to file paperwork in a timely manner and in a very specific way,” she said. “The court can basically deny everything because you didn’t respond to a piece of mail. It’s a very involved process.”

“Arguing an asylum claim is very nuanced, and not having a real familiarity with U.S. law or international law, or the nuance of how the United States has interpreted asylum… it’s really difficult to win a case if you don’t have a very good attorney,” she explained.

Community organizations like the Central American Resource Center (CARECEN) in Washington, D.C. hold programs to help migrants identify scams like immigration lawyer scams, according to program assistant George Taboada.

“That’s really important for newcomers who come to the United States, who are not only susceptible to that kind of disinformation, but also they’re coming to a new country with a different political environment,” Taboada said. “They’re very susceptible to new information, because they don’t really know much about the United States’s political culture.”

The Departments of Homeland Security (DHS) and Justice (DOJ) and the FTC announced in 2011 a national effort to combat these scams. In the first year of that continuing effort, the Department of Justice and other partners saw convictions of up to eight years in prison and the restitution of over $1.8 million – and that’s just on the federal level.

In Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, for example, authorities are still looking for two people who they believe scammed immigrants out of thousands of dollars while posing as immigration lawyers. They targeted individuals at the town’s United Blend Community Center, according to the Center’s director and founder Elizabeth Perez.

Perez told Fox56 that she trusted the two based on their seeming kindness and genuineness, but noticed that not much progress had been made on the cases they were supposingly working on.

“You have these families, they work so hard, some are working two jobs,” she told Fox56. “You have people that borrowed money and are paying five percent of interest on the loans and are still paying. They haven’t seen their family for years and you’re going to come and do this.”

Dozens of cases have been filed in the state of New York, where the Immigrant Assistance Service Enforcement Act is specifically designed to prevent and address these scams. The law, enacted in 2014, defines immigration services fraud in the first degree as the “intent to defraud another person seeking immigrant assistance services from such person… with intent to obtain property from such other person by false or fraudulent pretenses, representations or promises, and thereby wrongfully obtains such property with a value in excess of one thousand dollars.”

This law has stopped numerous scams, including the one that targeted Omar. Another scam was allegedly carried out by Windella Wells and the Adilah Dibba Corporation, who face a 44 count indictment, including eight counts of immigration assistance services fraud in the first degree. According to the Bronx County District Attorney’s office, Wells “defraud[ed] ten people out of $73,000 by promising to improve their immigration status.”

Stacey Richman, Wells’s attorney, says that discovery is still ongoing and that more details will come then.

“I don’t believe my client did anything wrong or believed she was doing anything wrong,” she said. “She didn’t do anything maliciously.”

All ten victims declined to comment.

Omar first texted Pablo Ortega Cuenca in December 2016.

“Are you a lawyer,” Omar asked Pablo.

“Yes,” Pablo replied.

“Oh it shows in your photo,” Omar realized.

But later, Pablo’s story changed.

Omar texted him, “I am an illegal immigrant and since you told me that you are a lawyer in the area, I wanted to know if I can go to a consultation with a yoke.”

“I work in the Spanish consulate,” Pablo responded.

“Ohh sorry”

“But I can help you,” Pablo claimed. “Because I also do extra cases.”

But Pablo took Omar’s money and ghosted him.

Pablo was arrested on January 10, 2024 on two counts of immigrant assistance services, two counts of 3rd degree grand larceny, and one count of scheme to defraud.

He pled guilty on June 12 to petit larceny and sentenced to time served.

Nadia Shpachenko and her colleagues were ready to share an aggressive political message in response to the Russian attack on Ukraine. “The war started on my birthday, so I was crying all night. The next morning, composer Lewis Spratlan passed away, we were very close collaborators,” said Shpachenko, to her audience during a concert at the Ukrainian Institute of America in New York.

 

“Lewis’s brother called me the morning after the war started and he said, ‘I want to write a piece about this war, and I want to kill Putin with it.”

 

Russian President Vladmir Putin’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine is nearing the end of its third year. Back in Ukraine, blaring air raid sirens reverberate across the streets, but today, only a bustling New York City accompanies the melodies of 20th-century Ukrainian composer Thomas de Hartmann. Violinist Solomiya Ivakhiv and pianist Nadia Shpachenko are performing far from their homeland of Ukraine, where Shpachenko used to live and where all Ivakhiv’s relatives are today. For them, performances of largely forgotten Ukrainian compositions represent a broader phenomenon since the war: an artistic tradition rising from the ashes, molded into political messaging.

 

As the war continues, Ukrainian musicians must grapple with how to maintain the memory of an ongoing, brutal war. Three years out from Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, over 6.7 million Ukrainians have been forced to migrate away from their homes, wondering how to preserve the identity of Ukraine. Today, the response for Ukrainians has been an influx of music connected to the Ukrainian identity and an increasingly politicized purpose behind their branding as artists.

 

Before they performed, Ivakhiv told the audience that Shpachenko had been learning Ukrainian for the past few years and now refuses to speak Russian. “She is not as good as me yet, but she’s getting there,” joked Ivakhiv.

 

Shpachenko’s choice is emblematic of a broader trend of Ukrainians agreeing upon a resistance that is centered in culture, rooted in ancient artistic and linguistic traditions. The embrace of traditional art forms has served as a source of morale, as well as a political statement to the threat of erasure of the Ukrainian identity, a movement that has become increasingly visible on a global scale.

 

Historically, Slavic traditions associated with Russian culture come from Ukraine, where the origins of Slavic civilization took root. Through the 18th century, Russia was a relative cultural desert in comparison to Ukraine’s thriving literary and musical traditions according to Simon Morrison, a professor of music at Princeton University who studies the former Soviet Union and Russia.

 

For hundreds of years, Russia othered and reduced Ukraine through cultural condescension. Russian narratives have perpetuated stereotypes portraying Ukrainians as linguistically and socially rustic, as “rednecks.” “If you watch a comedy show in Russia, you see Ukrainian spoofs in terms of how they speak and their accents,” said Morrison.

 

Russia’s most acclaimed artistic figures have strong ties to Ukraine, but this aspect of their backgrounds have been mostly erased. Composer Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky spent over half his career in Ukraine and his second symphony incorporated Ukrainian folk songs. Novelist Nikolai Gogol was ethnically Ukrainian, yet never published works in Ukrainian because the Russian empire prohibited it.

 

“Terrible things happened via these systems of repression, creating a repertoire of work. Now, you find these ancient songs and they resonate with Ukrainians,” said Morrison. “You’re seeing this incredible effort from the Russians to obliterate anything to do with national cultural identity— archival collections, institutions—to leave Ukraine as a wasteland.”

 

Music is at the core of a resistance within an artistic-cultural battleground. As a defiant response to the Russian repression of Ukrainian heritage, Ukrainian musicians have reclaimed folk music. Though, as the war continues, artists have been experimenting with old music to create a distinct, modern Ukrainian sound.

 

“There’s been an explosion of musical practices. One main reaction to the full-scale invasion was to make more music and to repurpose old music,” said ethnomusicologist Maria Sonevytsky.

 

The hit song from Ukrainian group Kalush Orchestra’s win in the Eurovision Song Contest 2022, “Stefania,” is a representation of folk music changing amidst the war. This modernized return to Ukrainian music is a hip hop track, merging rap with traditional Ukrainian flute lines and a folk vocal hook. The song’s music video depicts a soldier in war trying to save her daughter and garnered over 73.3 million views on YouTube.

“The melody itself is from a very traditional province in southeastern Ukraine, but it’s taken a life of its own,” said Stephen Benham, president of Music in World Culture (MIWC) who frequently visits Ukraine for music development projects. “When I went to Ukraine, singing and leading the camp with the kids, they were trying to play ‘Stefania’ on their violins. It was a way of protesting, but also expressing Ukrainian identity.”

 

This reinterpretation of folk music has also functioned as a mode of global solidarity. The lead singer of Ukrainian rock-pop band BoomBox sang a 20th-century song associated with military resistance in front of the St. Sophia Cathedral in Kyiv shortly after the invasion. The clip became viral on social media and was initially remixed and shared by South African artist The Kiffness in “ARMY REMIX.” The clip proceeded to garner attention from a growing number of remixers by various artists across the world.

 

As a result of the war, Ukrainian musicians have acquired an unprecedented global platform that was driven by a geopolitical conflict. Due to the rise of new Ukrainian music being deeply connected to a political foundation, the content of Ukrainian musicians’ most popular work has been about the war and Ukrainian identity.

 

“We’ve been seeing musicians figuring out ways to use musical tools for advocacy. Ukrainian musicians who had huge platforms at the very beginning have smaller platforms now, as the world has gotten tired of the war in Ukraine. They’re finding new methods to call attention to their various causes,” said Sonevytsky.

 

Ukrainian artists have taken to the trend of political pop, looking to new hot-button social causes for their work. Jerry Heil who represented Ukraine in the Eurovision Song Contest 2024 released the song “#AllEyesOnKids” in August, raising awareness about Ukrainian children being illegally deported by Russia.

 

Still, Ukrainians say that there is still a great demand in Europe for this Ukrainian music. Many Ukrainian musicians have left Ukraine to nearby European cities, including pop musicians who are find profitable tour audiences across Europe.

 

“Ukrainians abroad will go to concerts because it’s Ukrainian music, their language, and it connects with them,” Vitaliy Bolgar, a Ukrainian guitarist and singer-songwriter whose family sought refuge in Germany. “Other people come because Ukrainian music is so beautiful. They actually begin to sing Ukrainian songs in the Ukrainian language. It’s influencing the overall fabric of Europe and connects Ukraine more towards Europe at a heart level.”

 

For some artists, Ukrainian pride has been an integral part of their platforms long before the war. Violinist Ivakhiv released her first album consisting of works from eight Ukrainian composers in 2016, when there was a smaller platform.

 

“I believe that as musicians, we are citizens. When people say that art is beyond politics, I disagree, because art is created by people who have to be responsible for their acts, statements, and beliefs,” said Ivakhiv. “It’s about taking a stand, and I believe that Ukrainians have the right to their own sovereignty.”

 

Perhaps there is no better example of an artist using their work to confront political turmoil than Ukraine’s president Volodymyr Zelenskyy. Zelenskyy was a comedian and TV show star of the 2015 political satire series “Servant of the People” where he played a history teacher unexpectedly elected the president of Ukraine, before launching a real bid for the presidency in 2018.

 

Zelenskyy’s role in the television program was uncannily art imitating life. zthe portrayal of Ukraine overrun by evil oligarchal corruption reflected a national worry of Soviet corruption. The Party of Decisive Changes was renamed the Servant of the People in honor of his bid during the 2019 Ukrainian parliamentary election.

 

Zelenskyy also grappled with the preservation of Ukrainian culture linguistically, growing up in a Russian-speaking region. He learned Ukrainian for the presidential position in 2018, and now gives national addresses in the native tongue.

 

[how to transition out?]

 

“Ukrainians when they’re heard, are typically heard at moments of political volatility,” said Sonevytsky. “Some Ukrainian musicians feel strongly that they want to keep making music like before, that doesn’t necessarily have a political message.”

 

A return to old music has served a political cause for many artists, but at its core still functions as a personal, therapeutic device.

 

“These songs were about the experience of being alive and the suffering one has, there was no sense of nation when they were created,” said Morrison. “It’s a part of the texture of life. Ukrainian art is fundamentally about the smaller epiphanies, the profundities of individuals.”

 

The return to folk music and other traditional art forms marks a broader renaissance of the Ukrainian identity and its community—reviving personhood and lost historical traditions.

 

“The idea, and even word for identity is relatively new in Ukrainian studies. They would use words closer to the definition of ‘personality,’” explained Benham, who was writing a dissertation in Ukrainian studies in 1997.

 

In the return to Ukrainian folk music, the power of Ukrainian identity is amplified through the guttural singing style and using the Ukrainian language.  “You’re trying to communicate how you’re feeling about your country, to other the people that don’t know you. We’re experiencing a wave, telling people this is who we are. Folk music is a very important way of letting people know what you’re going through,” said Bolgar.

 

Traditional music forms have functioned as a healing source for traumatic events across migrant communities. Culturally centered music is gaining recognition as a therapy protocol for migrant trauma patients, according to the National Institute of Health.

 

“Music has always played a really important role for Ukrainians, as for many people around the world. It’s always been a source of comfort and a symbol of resilience for people,” said Sonevytsky.

 

Music & healing

 

Political music and needing the attention with a dwindling platform

 

Dance scene quote, carpe diem attitude and a bursting art scene in response

 

Politicization internationally of arts in solidarity with ukraine, cosmopolitan artists rebranding, spotfy removing artists

 

At its core it is still used in a meditative and personal way

Healing, trauma

A migrant tradition

 

 

It is personal AND political

 

– – –

“There was a propaganda by our neighbor that Ukrainian culture does not exist. I am on a mission to share our deep, sophisticated Ukrainian culture,” said Ivakhiv. “It makes me happy to see that there is such interest in discovering Ukrainian culture through literature, music, art. But also, it makes me sad that it takes a tragedy for people to be more aware.”

(start with a scene. I don’t have a good one yet. This is a backup in case I don’t find a better one: Just two days after the presidential election results were announced, a group of recent migrants gather around a dozen or so round tables inside Good Shepherd Lutheran Church in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. They are here to share their stories with a group of student journalists. The environment was casual and welcoming, despite the tension in the air from the looming second Trump presidency just around the corner. One of those migrants is Sebastian Galeano, a 29-year-old asylum seeker from Colombia.

Galeano has only been in the U.S. for seven months. He says he might get killed if he goes back home. [insert quote from Galeano])

Although it is not yet clear how Trump will enforce his proposed immigration policies like mass deportations, immigrants and advocates are bracing themselves. Most are preparing for increases in detention, deportation, and family separation, in addition to fear within immigrant communities.

Trump made gains with groups of voters that the Republican party has not had this level of success with in recent years. For example, Trump won over many Black and Latino voters, especially men, which surprised people who were not closely following these groups in the past few years. He also made gains with young voters. 

[List key results/stats]

Experts who study political trends among Latino voters, however, were not surprised by the results. Julio Ricardo Varela, MSNBC columnist and founder of The Latino Newsletter, wrote on X as election results rolled in, “[I] am not engaging anyone who can’t understand why Latinos voted who they voted this election cycle. If you need explanations today, you can read my last 3 years of work. This was always possible. The results do not surprise me.”

Patricia Fernández-Kelly, a professor of sociology and director of the Center for Migration and Development at Princeton University, says her research shows that anti-immigration sentiment is present even among immigrant populations. The longer an immigrant stays in a country, the more they absorb some of the attitudes of the larger population.

“Older immigrants from anywhere, the longer they have resided in the country, the less sympathetic they are going to be towards more recently-arrived immigrants,” she said. “Even fairly recently arrived immigrants don’t want other immigrants, even from their own country.”

Recent migrants from Central and South America are reacting differently to Trump’s gains among Latino voters. While some are disappointed in what they feel is their own community turning on them, others understand where the resentment is coming from, even if they don’t agree with it. 

Luz Herrera, one of the migrants at the church in Brooklyn, says she and her family are getting many services that previous migrants did not get, which can understandably lead to frustration and resentment. 

Herrera, a 39-year-old asylum seeker from Ecuador, is one of the over 200,000 bused to New York City from the southern border, along with her husband and four children. They are currently staying at the Roosevelt Hotel in Manhattan, one of the many places functioning as shelters for migrants. She and her husband have work permits and are undergoing the asylum process. She has access to English language classes. Her children are all studying.

[Luz Herrera quote about fleeing because of violent groups, so understanding the sentiment of wanting people to be safe]

“We aren’t criminals, but there are some who give us a bad name,” says Sebastian Galeano. “Let’s hope Trump doesn’t get confused between us and them.”

Though some of these migrants are hopeful that Trump will only go after criminals, he has vowed to target all undocumented migrants, so it is not clear whether he will make that distinction. For instance, Trump’s inflammatory rhetoric targeting Haitian migrants in Springfield, Ohio, is leading many of them to leave Springfield. They are deciding to leave despite being there lawfully – many of them are on Temporary Protected Status (TPS).

Trump’s campaign pushed forth highly inflammatory anti-immigration rhetoric, but Trump has not shared many details on how he plans to accomplish his sweeping immigration proposals. At an Arizona rally in October, Trump mentioned wanting to hire an additional 10,000 agents to patrol the U.S.-Mexico border, with no plan for how he will accomplish that or secure funding for it. Trump has also proposed mass deportations of millions of people and building new detainment centers.

According to the New York Times, Trump will have a very difficult time getting the resources to implement his proposed policies. Many candidates, especially Donald Trump, rely on hyperbolic rhetoric on the campaign trail to energize their base without any realistic details on how they will put their proposals in action.

However, experts and advocates are making predictions for what’s to come based on what they saw during the first Trump presidency. This includes policies like Safe Third agreements, Remain in Mexico, and Title 42. Safe Third agreements with countries in Central America required asylum seekers traveling through those countries to first seek protection there before they get to the U.S.-Mexico border. Remain in Mexico is a Department of Homeland Security policy which requires asylum seekers to remain in Mexico until their U.S. court date. Title 42 is a policy that was revived during the COVID pandemic which allowed for turning away migrants arriving at the southern border on the basis of public health concerns. This policy ended in 2023 by the Biden administration with the end of the pandemic.

Amelia Frank-Vitale, a professor of anthropology at Princeton University says, “the discourse that came from the Trump administration the first time around is very similar to the discourse that’s coming this time, which is terror…emboldening ICE agents and border patrol and terrorizing immigration.”

Frank-Vitale adds that this is not just about discourse, but that one unique thing about asylum law compared to other areas of law is that its interpretation can be changed at the hands of judges. The Attorney General can make decisions which set new precedents for asylum law, which we saw during the first Trump administration.

“The incoming Trump administration is going to build on what the Biden administration has done to basically make people who show up at the southern border ineligible to seek asylum,” she says. “Although US law says that you can seek asylum in the United States regardless of how you enter the country. It’s very, very clear in the 1980 Refugee Act.” She says that people who come to the southern border to seek asylum will have to eventually prove in court that they first tried applying for asylum in other countries they crossed through.

“I am not hopeful that anything that makes things fairer or better for immigrants is coming in the next administration,” she says. She thinks the incoming Trump administration will “make a whole lot of people removable who aren’t currently removable,” such as people on TPS and DACA.

One thing we know based on previous border crackdowns is that stricter immigration enforcement does not necessarily deter  migrants who want to cross the border. Anuj Gupta, CEO of The Welcoming Center (TWC), says the grit and perseverance of migrants who go through difficult journeys to get to the United States shows that they are determined to make it to their final destination. He says the U.S. should welcome people with that level of grit and determination.

“The issue is not that people want to come to this country,” he says. “The problem is that we don’t have a system to accommodate them.”

As a Philadelphia-based nonprofit organization, TWC provides community support and a wide range of services for migrants, including language training, entrepreneurship support, and leadership workshops. Elizabeth Jones, Strategy and Impact Director, says preparing for the possibility of a second Trump presidency means responding to changing community needs and emphasizing wellness, while maintaining TWC’s current programming.

“We need to provide a way for people to be able to express their fears,” she says. “Wellness will be threatened.”

[End with something from migrants at the church in Bay Ridge]

*Disclaimer & a Few notes: this is a very rough draft & still have to organize quotes and content in the best format to make the most sense. Also still waiting for Monterrosa’s translations, still a lot of work to be done but have words on paper.” 

 

Search for Manuel Monterrosa on Instagram or YouTube; viewers can scroll through reels, pictures, and videos showing Monterrosa’s journey through the Darien Gap, a dangerous jungle in Panama that migrants take to reach the Mexico border. 

 

35-year-old Manuel Monterrosa is a self-identifiable “migration influencer.” Originally from Venezuela, he now posts content related to migration on social media. Monterrosa explains that he began posting on these platforms during his journey to the United States, only to realize upon coming to the U.S. that documenting his journey on YouTube paid more than any job he could find as an undocumented immigrant. Monterrosa has returned to South America, where he plans to continue posting content.

 

Now, Monterrosa, with his 39.3k Instagram followers and over 100,000 youtube followers, offers hope for migrants. He uses his platform to not only warn them about dangerous scams on TikTok but also to empower them. Influencers like Monterrosa are a testament to the new power of social media in migration. For many who need to escape their country swiftly, social media is a lifeline, offering easy, free, and accessible information. Monterrosa acknowledges the challenges of relying on social media for information, but he also sees the potential and the hope it brings to migrants. 

“A lot of people, like influencers and lawyers, are giving advice a lot of times, especially on migration,” says director of Strategic Engagement and Outreach at Informed Immigrant Ivette Moratya.Informed Immigrant is a research hub that provides information to undocumented immigrants, and it has 40.2k followers on Instagram. Morayta explains that social media has changed how people take in information and elaborates on the willingness of social media consumers to listen to advice broadcasts. They run with it as legal advice without realizing that everything that happens comes down to a case-by-case basis.” Moratya also stresses the importance of social media in conveying information to migrants. She explains that when Informed Immigrants started working on a social media presence in 2019, they paid particular attention to how their information was presented so that their target audience, undocumented immigrants, could easily understand what was posted.

 

“I’ve started doing this work, advocacy, and social media pretty much around 2008,” says social media creator and immigrant advocate Juan Escalante. “Twitter was this very weird place that not a lot of people understood, Facebook wasn’t what it used to be.TikTok didn’t exist. I mean, I think the iPhone just came out.” Escalante explains that digital advocacy has come a long way since he first got involved. With Twitter and Facebook being the most prominent forms of social media for advocacy and information telling, Escalante claims that it wasn’t until the early 2010s that the digital landscape began to develop. “I’ve seen it evolve into people using TikTok and these platforms to share their experiences,” says Escalante. “Social media has come a long way and has given people a platform to share their experiences and personal truths.”

 

“The same way that people can spew out misinformation, they can also give a platform for people who are undergoing very difficult times, given the circumstances,” he says. Sharing personal truths, as Escalante describes them, has played a massive role in the social media migration movement. Silky Shah, Executive Director of Detention Watch Network, a nonprofit organization working towards abolishing immigration detention in the United States, claims that social media has enhanced the ability to choose the stories organizations like Detention Watch want to tell. “Social media is great because you’re able to have a bit more control over the messages you want to put out there,” she says. “You can engage with people you might otherwise not have engaged with given there are limitations with traditional media.”

 

“One of the biggest impacts we had on our platform was working with influencers,” says Moratya. “Our goal has always been thinking about who is somebody who could be really good at providing the message?” Moratya explains that many of Informed Immigrant’s followers could or directly be impacted. With such a vulnerable audience, Moratya emphasizes that the biggest goal of Informed Immigrant’s platform is fostering community in general. “A lot of our information is geared towards investment in the community,” she says. “Since we’ve started we’ve grown pretty quickly.” 

 

Last year, Informed Immigrant’s Instagram had just hit 20k followers. A year later, collaborations with influencers and reaching out to people individually have doubled the number of followers to 40,000. As Moratya emphasizes, a huge factor in increasing engagement and followers was using collaborators and working with influences who care about immigration.

 

“The whole aspect of the internet is giving people a platform, but also to help distribute a lot of information in terms of news, blogs, etc to a broader audience,” says Escalante. Escalante emphasizes that the internet has given people an opportunity to influence people and claims that influencers have a crucial role in disseminating information for the immigrant community. “I think part of the benefit is allowing immigrant rights advocates and other people to educate local communities about things happening,” he explains. Escalante and Morayta assert that these platforms can be vital sources of reliable and trustworthy information. “Twitter was essentially used to find out about local legislation, tuition bills, and how to acquire driver licenses,” Escalante says, highlighting the role of social media in keeping the public informed and aware.

 

For both undocumented and documented immigrants, social media platforms serve as crucial lifelines. Morayta explains that Informed Immigrant can provide verifiable information to those who may not have access to a lawyer. Platforms like Informed Immigrant also respond to direct messages and questions sent by followers, providing a sense of support and reassurance. In a world where access to information and resources can be limited, social media bridges the gap, connecting immigrants with the help they need.

 

“How do you educate mass amounts of people about something that’s like, not necessarily, everyday vernacular vocabulary,” asks Escalante. He talks about how bills and legislation promoted on social media platforms require explanations so that audiences can make informed decisions that are based on facts. “Social media exposes how these things impact you and why you should care,” he says. Escalante also explains that the influx of social media and influencers has significantly impacted legislation and federal and local policy. The influx of people who want to share their personal experiences and details about their lives and struggles in different parts of the country provides perspective to those on social media listening. 

 

“Digital advocacy has been great for cultivating an audience and has been used to expose policies that the public should care about,” he explains. Specifically, Escalante claims to speak on social media’s role in continuously promoting and educating others on the DREAM Act and DACA on specific platforms. The DREAM Act stands for Development, Relief, and Education for Alien Minors Act. Given particular requirements, it allows undocumented immigrants brought to the United States as children to live and work there legally. Despite being introduced in 200, the DREAM Act has never become a law. DACA stands for Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals and is a U.S. immigration policy that offers undocumented immigrants protection from being deported and a work permit. President Obama implemented the DACA Act in June 2012. 

 

“It takes ten seconds to tell a lie about immigration, and it takes anywhere from ten minutes to ten hours, depending on how big the lie is to explain it,” says Escalante. Despite being great for promoting information, misinformation is plentiful on social media for migrants. Escalante explains that it’s much easier to say things than correct them. Especially in this day and age, statements regarding immigration are regularly made without people fully understanding the impact that these statements have. “To respond to a five-word comment about immigrants being deported, do people even understand the physical impact, or what would that take?” he asks. The consequences these comments have on migrant communities are more detrimental than those who are saying them realize. 

 

“If you think that mass deportation is the only solution, you’re going to gravitate towards comments or comments that look and feel like that for you,” Escalante says. Regardless of who is saying what or where content is circulating, Escalante emphasizes that people will believe what they are most comfortable believing, leaving room for misinformation to circulate and biases. 

“A lot of people figure stuff out via word of mouth, countrymen and sometimes social media for sure,” says Amelia Frank-Vitale, a professor at Princeton University and expert in Central American migration, culture and politics, and U.S. immigration. Frank-Vitale explains that for those crossing through the U.S.-Mexico border, migrants have to complete an application through an app called CDP1, guaranteeing that migrants have to have access to a smartphone or pay for one. One way or another, they are online. 

 

“We hear a lot about the misinformation, whether through comments, DMs, trends, or other partners or organizations,” Moratya says. Moratya describes that live streams and collaborations with experts like lawyers or other verified organizations are how an informed immigrant directly addresses the issue. By bringing verified sources online to speak to communities, comments that slander migrants can be debunked and used to combat harmful misinformation. 

 

However, as Monterrosa explains, some issues about misinformation can be more consequential. Monterrosa talks about TikTok content promoted by gangs that details hazardous routes. Not only that, but Monterrosa emphasizes that social media channels are being used to scam migrants directly. Promises of safe routes to the U.S. end up being scams to steal migrants’ money.

To avoid migrants becoming weary of scams, Morayta emphasizes that posting content is about considering the targeted audience and how it is presented. “We’re cautious about how we present information,” she says. In addition to ensuring that trustworthy information is being promoted, Moratya explains that Informed Immigrants also focus their time on combating misinformation.

“TikTok’s algorithms specifically recommended that we look into immigration and ‘white genocide, showing the same thing with immigration, white genocide, or migrants and invasion,” says Reyes, co-author of the report TikTok and Anti-Migrant & Anti Refuge Content released by the Institute for Strategic Dialogue. The Institute for Strategic Dialogue is a global think tank combating extremism, disinformation, and polarization. Reyes explains that TikTok would make discriminating or hostile recommended searches based on the sort of search users would input. The report, co-written by Lucy Cooper and Kevin Reyes, investigates the challenges of managing migration and the impact of social media platforms on spreading anti-migrant content. Specifically, by looking at TikTok, Cooper and Reyes discovered the biases present on social media about migrants. 

 

“Here’s a Fox News clip about, you know, migrants at the border. But then you go into the comments, and then that’s where you start seeing, a lot of the discourse becomes helpful,” says Reyes. Cooper elaborated on the extent of the comments. “We have some listed here saying that they should be shot or dropping bombs, things like that, as well as calls for Civil war,” she says. Cooper and Reyes emphasize the impact of TikTok and social media platforms in depicting public perception and opinion of migrants. 

 

“One of the other things that we noticed was this trend of misleading people about what migrants were doing or saying,” says Cooper. “they would say that they’ve interviewed this migrant who had said some very provocative things or offensive or incriminating answers to these questions,” Cooper explains that the actual video had the question omitted if at all. Creators edit out the answer given or manipulate the answer so that they can frame the migrants being interviewed. 

Reyes explains that some videos on TikTok also depict migrants with background sounds from The Purge soundtracks or horror related to create feelings of fear in viewers. Both Cooper and Reyes emphasize that these portrayals of migrants have real-world implications for migrants and that these videos only cultivate environments for migrants that invite hate.

 

“A lot of these videos are being filmed at places where migrants were living,” says Cooper. “There was one hotel in particular in New York City where there was a lot of filming migrants outside, which put people in danger,” Cooper explains that exposing the location of migrants makes them only more vulnerable to hostility and discrimination. “In one instance, they went into a migrant shelter in a Chicago PD police station, and as they were filming, somebody stood up and said, Don’t film here,” she says. “There’s people sleeping, or there’s children.” In this instance, Cooper mentions that people manipulate the requests into suspicions. She explains that people begin to spread false claims that this person became aggressive or should be questioned because declining to be filmed is suspicious; however, in reality, people are only trying to protect against the violent language and rhetoric that will be used against them.  Given that social media content prompts safety concerns for migrants, Cooper and Reyes call for TikTok and Social Media regulations that keep migrants protected. 

 

“More moderator trading training is needed to combat account recidivism if an account is banned, but their IP address is used to create a new account. TikTok should and does have the mechanisms to detect that stuff,” says Reyes. Not only should accounts be banned, but regulations on algorithms should also be. Reyes explains that TikTok’s individualized algorithm quickly tunes into our searches and can suggest harmful content reinforcing the “rabbit hole of disinformation around migrants” TikTok audiences can fall into. 

 

“A lot of people turn to social media to follow journalists who are on the ground,” says Shah. “There’s probably going to be a lot happening and a lot happening to immigrant communities.” As the social media landscape continues to develop, Shah elaborates on the changes not only migrants, but also content creators may face. Despite speculations that the media will continue to be manipulated in ways that it shouldn’t, Shah claims that front-line journalists will be critical in ensuring that narratives are being properly told and facts stay truthful without manipulation. “The front lines are going to be important in the storytelling, and that’ll most likely happen through social media,” she says.

 

As someone on the front lines, Monterrosa will play a key role in ensuring that the information he promotes is accurate. After his first trip to the United States, Monterrosa realized that he could make more money posting his original content than any job in the United States as an immigrant, hence his continuous effort to promote his content.

 

Upon reaching out to Monterrosa about his social media platforms, he is incredibly eager to share what he has been working on. Enquiring about an interview, Monterrosa sends a one-page document in Spanish marketing some of the services he offers as a content creator. Monterrosa’s document reads explicitly that “to book your exclusive forty-five-minute interview, simply contact us to schedule a convenient date and time.”

 

Shortly after, another line reads explicitly, “The cost of this unique experience is one hundred seventy dollars.”

Surprise surprise, I really enjoyed all these Pulitzer Prize winning articles. For all the similarities these articles had, I thought they had some pretty significant distinctions too. It’s my second time reading the Jennifer Senior article, which personally raised questions about the value of re-reading, and I have to honestly say I just love it – definitely my favorite of the articles. I was immediately struck by the beginning. I find it relevant to note that each article this week begins with a physical image (a photograph, omitted elements of last-week’s pieces on structure). The writing then also begins with an image, transitioning into a scene, with the second section really acting as the nut graf; similarly, Drost’s and Engelhart’s articles begin with scenes from the “starts” of the tension in the story (though Drost’s arguably isn’t exactly the start). All three articles then zoom out into context, but do so in different ways. I was appreciative of the historical context Drost provided (which I don’t remember being present in the recent Atlantic Darien piece). The context in the other two was very character driven, Engelhart making this broad sweep over Diane’s life, while Senior makes her context very personal. I’m amazed that even the background in her article comes through with the “I” so deeply entrenched; the “you” too. Sam articulated in his reading response the difficulty of getting across background without boring the reader. I agree that part of why Senior’s article is so successful is that it feels personal, and conversational – even the context is related to her. More generally, though Bobby and his family are the obvious throughlines, I’d argue Senior uses herself as a main narrative vehicle. And it works really well! I also was surprised by what I felt was an absence of “nut-grafs” across the three articles. All the writers seemingly develop their “points” in the second sections, building on them over time.

While I understand Drost’s impulse to have her story be basically linear, all scene-based, I found it difficult to understand the point at times. As a result; especially when her story ends, I wanted to scream out “but this isn’t the end!!” and something about her narrative construction made it feel like it was supposed to be. Maybe this is a more general critique, but I felt like her article did so much more “showing” than “telling.” I realize that is what we’re constantly advised to do, but I honestly would’ve appreciated some telling. Where was the data? How their story played into larger narratives felt lost to me. Senior, on the other hand, did such a great job of bringing her story out into other contexts. I mean, let’s talk narrative deviation… a three paragraph section devoted to the relationship between 9/11 denialism and January 7th? Human grief relating to political grief? How interesting is that! I really do find those asides so spectacular, and I thank god for whatever editor let her do that. Also enjoy academic / literary asides, from Senior and Engelhart. They both punctuate the middle points of their articles with intellectual background, but they do so in ways that don’t feel overwhelming. These articles raised for me the need to think about overlapping storylines and arcs. These are all so successful, in my mind, because they have multiple moving parts. Each character feels like they have their own character arc to consider (is this a helpful way of thinking about writing?) Especially Senior’s! There’s so much going on that by the end, I had almost forgotten about the initial diary, yet I never lost excitement. I hope this article would make McPhee jump for joy – it’s an exact articulation of his idea that a story should have multiple endings. Every section near the end could be the closer, and it kept me really at the edge of my seat. There are no “exit ramps” in the story, it continually felt like there was more to get, and I thought that was the result of overlapping stories. She writes that “If you’re going to cede the power of the last word to someone else, you’d better be damn sure that person deserves it.” and then she does cede that power to Bobby in the end! Blows me away.

Thinking also about sentence-level structure: Senior and Engelhart both use “he said she said” setups at points. I can’t tell how I feel about these… I worry about sensationalizing a story. Lines like “But she still had it, just so you know.” feel like too much. I understand we have to learn the rules and then break them, but it still feels weird to see them broken so clearly. Should we think about longform akin to book-writing, just a little bit? I think part of why Senior’s article is so great is that it reads as if it’s a section from a book (and it’s interrupted by an ad for her book On Grief).

One last thing, and I just want to take a step back from structure and consider theme. Drost’s article has a clear individual story that it tells – it’s bringing attention to the conditions in the Darien gap (though the fact that another very similar story had to be written only three years later, and nothing had changed, is maybe a bad sign). But Engelhart and Senior are answering vague questions. More than anything, they’re complicating our understanding of grief and memory; of healing and autonomy. They’re huge questions, and fun to grapple with. But how do you even take on such large questions, and what are you supposed to take from their articles? Maybe I can say I learned specific things from Engelhart’s, that I could bring into conversations about dementia and conservatorship. But with Senior’s, I’m not sure I can articulate what I learned. I hope it’s clear from my previous comments that this isn’t a critique – I loved this article, seriously. Deeply deeply impressed by her writing. But I finished reading the article, went to eat dinner with my family, and the conversation immediately turned to my grandmother’s death and the grieving we all went through / are going through. Our conversation circulated around grief processes for like ten minutes, and I found myself unable to bring up the Senior article. I just had nothing to say in respect to it. I couldn’t define one key point from it, one thing that would actually help with the personal experience of grieving that we all feel. But the story touched me personally. I believe there’s a lot of value to that. Maybe it’s good that the story resists narrative closure. Maybe this a long winded way of saying that I’m happy there was no clear resolution to the article, and it inspires me to take on unanswerable questions through longform. All to say I loved these articles.

[I am hoping that my article will be able to begin with a scene about Maryam Yusufi and her friends. Maryam was a journalist in Kabul, now she’s an influencer in the United States. Ideally one of her friends is seeking asylum or on humanitarian parole – i can then introduce the threat that the Trump administration poses, while talking about the forced roles of American society]

 

The history of US-Afghanistan relations begins in the 1980’s, but the conversation about Afghan refugees is most often framed by the United States’ withdrawal from the region in 2021. 

When US troops stopped supporting the Afghan government, many knew the Taliban would take control, but the immediacy of the invasion was without precedent. As the Taliban stormed Kabul in mid-August of 2021, the outflow of Afghans skyrocketed, airports overrun and refugees fleeing to wherever possible. 

In an attempt to salvage a dire situation, the Biden administration expedited resettlement processes for Afghans; Special Immigrant VISA programs and humanitarian parolees were transferred to secondary vetting sites en masse, bringing 76,000 Afghan evacuees into the US. Popular media scolded the government’s failure of a withdrawal, while decrying conditions at the military facilities that Afghan evacuees were held at; the number of evacuees falls far behind the number of eligible refugees. 

Now in the United States, many of these Afghan refugees fail to find work and integrate. According to a study by the Immigration Policy Institute, only 61% of Afghan immigrants in the U.S. were employed in 2022. Other figures were equally grim: the median household income for Afghan families was $48,000, compared to $75,000 for the average immigrant household. 

 

[I’m not sure whether Zahra is the best person to go with, considering she’s spent most of her time in Canada] 

Zahra Nader is part of an earlier group of Afghan immigrants. In 2017, she moved to Canada with her husband. The first female foreign correspondent in Kabul, with experience at the New York Times, she didn’t expect the job-search to be so difficult. She recalls asking around, about how to find work. “I was often told that you don’t necessarily come from Afghanistan and, you know, become a journalist here,” she said.

“I was very depressed,” she remembers. “Suddenly, because I’m living in a safe country, that meant that I was no longer relevant.” Her experience is not uncommon. Many members of the upper-middle class evacuated after the fall of Kabul, as they immediately faced threats from the Taliban. Here, English-language difficulties and a lack of job-training make employment difficult. 

Hope for Nader wasn’t lost: In 2021, she used her savings (which she had intended to use for the construction of a new home back in Afghanistan) to open The Zan Times, a newspaper that highlights Afghan women’s stories in Afghanistan and abroad. 

But she knows her success story isn’t common. “When you’re an immigrant, and things are very tough here too, especially with the new American administration, you can imagine how much it will become more difficult for people to risk their lives to come and then be sent back,” she said. She, like many Afghan immigrants who have found success in the US, is worried about what the new administration means for them.

 

“We feel like we’re stuck in between a rock and a hard place,” said Arash Azzizada, co-founder of the non-profit Afghans for a Better Tomorrow. “Which is a US that harms our community and a gender apartheid being instilled by the Taliban.”

Azzizada’s organization works with recent Afghan refugees, most of whom resettled in New York City. He said that increasingly, he’s seeing Afghans who qualify for SIV status coming through the US’ Southern border, with or without documentation. The process of applying for asylum takes a long time – even when expedited – and for many Afghans facing the threat of violence, that time could cost them their lives.

Now in the US, Azizzada sees these migrants (regardless of how they enter the country) struggling to find suitable work. “They’re civil rights leaders, you know. Women’s rights activists, diplomats, people who were really big deals in their home country,” he said. “And now, they’re sitting in a city run shelter.”

He, like all the Afghans I spoke to, insists on the gratitude felt by evacuees and refugees. Conditions in Afghanistan continue to deteriorate. “Our people were fleeing famine, Taliban persecution,” he said. As of May 2024, more than one third of Afghans are experiencing acute food insecurity. And conditions, especially for women, continue to deteriorate. Girls are denied access to education after the sixth grade, and a recent law outlawed women’s voices in public places. 

[Here could be a good place to include the story of women currently in Afghanistan once Wahid connects me with them]

Azzizada, Nader, and Yousufi all decry the conditions in Afghanistan. But, Azzizada continues, that doesn’t excuse the way Afghans are treated in the US. “You said you stood with us, and then with the way the withdrawal happened, and with the way you’re treating us now,” he said. “It’s just a sense of deep betrayal.”

Azzizada points to the Trump administration as a further threat for Afghan refugees. He said that while Afghans themselves are a divided voting block – many older Afghans immigrants dislike the democratic party and voted for Trump in this election [i would like to expand on this point, if it fits into the article at large.] – refugee-aid organizations like his are very concerned for what the Trump administration’s policies will look like.

In Trump’s first term, he failed to bring Afghan voices (especially those of women) to the negotiating table with the Taliban; his promises to end humanitarian parole and deport undocumented immigrants now threaten the livelihood of many Afghan-Americans, who wonder where they will go, with Afghanistan impossible to return to. 

Trump’s administration poses an even stronger threat to women. Facing gender-apartheid at home, Azzizada said that many Afghan women refugees are coming to him asking how Trump could possibly be in power. “I think the Trump administration poses a threat to women worldwide,” he said, “And that includes Afghan women.” 

Between encroaches on bodily-autonomy, migration persecution, and public statements that belittle female colleagues, Azzizada said Afghan women are shocked by what they’ve heard from Trump. Hearing about what’s happening in Afghanistan, he said that Trump’s administration is “a subtle reminder of what they fled in the first place.”

 

[really hoping i can get some scenes while in Virginia this weekend. Eating dinner with Maryam and co on friday night, that could be a good lede. I will try to meet with them again on sat or sun (potentially a place to return to, as a closer? Also going to meet with some less privileged (more recent) Afghan evacuees there (either through AWA, VACC, Wahid, or Azzizida). Hoping to find someone who would be a good stand-in for Zahra. I also have my interview with Nasiba Maqsudi and my talk with Davoudi from HIAS – I didn’t want to use either of those scenes in this, because I’ve already written them. But hopefully i will also get a lawyer to talk about the specific challenges threatening Afghan migrants, I’ve written a couple and will follow up. Right now, it’s hard to focus my article specifically onto the points i want to be making, so I assume much of this will be cut]

Title: New Realities at the Border: Colombians, Mexicans, and the Changing Face of Migration

Even for those who survive the dangerous crossing, challenges abound. Mario, a Colombian migrant, describes how his wife, Eliana, lives in constant fear of detection, altering even the smallest details of her daily life: “When she’s on the train, she doesn’t look forward; she looks down, so they won’t [notice her].” Additionally, Eliana herself found her initial interactions in America to be different than she expectedt: “Funny enough, she found that she was pretty welcomed by Americans, but not very welcomed by Latin Americans.”

This transformation reflects the evolving dynamics along the U.S.-Mexico border and the broader migration landscape. Once defined by a fluid exchange of families, resources, and culture, the border now bears the scars of decades of militarization and fundamental changes to migration patterns. “The Mexican border… was less populated at that time, and people were just kind of crossing back and forth, had family sometimes land on both sides. So it was a very more fluid border at that point,” explains Rosina Lozano, a historian at Princeton University specializing in the history of migration.

Today, that fluidity is gone, replaced by walls, checkpoints, and patrols. Migration scholar Douglas Massey describes how these changes altered migration patterns fundamentally: “By militarizing the border… the flow shifted… from temporary workers to permanently settled families.” He adds, “Border militarization almost doubled the size of the undocumented population because it discouraged return migration.”

The repercussions extend beyond policy. The arrival of new groups of migrants, such as Colombians, has strained relationships within established border communities. “People that they’re seeing are no longer their compadres, paisanos; they’re people from other countries,” Massey notes. He explains how this shift has contributed to rising tensions and even political realignments: “The Mexican population along the borders [is] heavily citizens of many generations, and they see these people as competitors.” This dynamic partly explains a turn in Texas border counties against the migration across the border that may have been more easily accepted before.

The Mexican Border Today: A Complex Legacy

The story of migration at the U.S.-Mexico border cannot be told without considering the role of Mexicans themselves, whose migration patterns have drastically shifted over time. Once frequent border-crossers, many Mexicans now avoid the journey altogether, deterred by the dangers posed by increasingly militarized policies. Lozano highlights how natural landscapes, such as deserts and rivers, have been weaponized to deter crossings: “The federal government actually has in their strategy that they’re using the environment as a deterrent, because they know people will die if they go that direction.”

Within the U.S., many Mexican-American communities along the border have developed a complex relationship with newcomers. Massey points out that Mexican-descent populations, often U.S. citizens of many generations, feel the strain of competing resources and shifting demographics. This competition, alongside broader economic changes, has fueled resentment toward newer migrants. “And so,” Massey adds, “we’re seeing political shifts that reflect those tensions.”

Newcomers and Their Challenges

Yet, Colombians and other newcomers persist, driven by dire circumstances in their home countries. Eliana, shared her family’s plight: “Her dad was a member of FARC… when the deal was signed… they are going after people who chose to step back.” For others, the challenges are systemic rather than overtly violent. “Now that they’re here, they have two years… either get asylum or go back to Colombia,” Mario explains, summarizing the stark choices many face. The asylum process is anything but predictable and when asked to describe the process the couple indicated the unpredictable nature of the appointment time and date seeing as they are at the discretion of the judge, who can decide to move a date sooner or later than anticipated.

For migrants like Jaime, who settled in Philadelphia, the obstacles extend beyond the initial journey. He speaks of the challenges of finding affordable housing amid gentrification: “Even people who lived here for many years had to leave because of the gentrification situation… The rent and mortgage interest go up, and it’s not that affordable, especially for new immigrants.” This displacement shows how crossing the border is just the first step in a long journey, as migrants face new challenges like rising housing costs and limited resources. Even after arriving, they must work to overcome these obstacles in their search for stability and a place to belong.

Still, Jaime emphasizes the resilience and adaptability of migrants as they strive to integrate. “For me, it was a challenge… discovering a new society, new friends, new everything,” he reflects. Despite the hardships, Jaime has found ways to build community. “We have neighbors; they are very important. You build community with them, sharing food and music,” he says, contrasting this experience with his time in New York. Yet building community, while essential, is often difficult for migrants who face isolation, discrimination, and economic pressures, underscoring the ongoing struggle to find a sense of belonging in unfamiliar and often unwelcoming environments.

The Changing Face of Migration

The stories of both Colombians and Mexicans show how migration has changed, shaped by stricter policies, dangerous routes, and shifting demographics. Despite these changes, the reasons people migrate remain the same: to survive, find safety, and build a better life.

As migration evolves, it’s crucial to understand what it means for migrants to adapt and succeed in new places. These stories highlight the humanity behind immigration policies and the determination of those who make the journey. Whether fleeing violence or seeking opportunity, migrants reflect the challenges, hopes, and enduring pursuit of a better future that define the American dream.

Things left to add: interview with a law enforcement and more commentary about the border wall overall. I think I want to do a bit more historical analysis as well as a paragraph incorporating “People have always found ways to use the U.S.-Mexico border to cross, including the Chinese in earlier eras,” says Rosina Lozano. “At the time, many learned Spanish, dressed as Mexicans, and adapted to blend in” I am not sure where I would incorporate this but that could also be interesting.

The article about dementia is really eye-opening because it shows how complex and confusing it can be when trying to understand a person’s ability to make decisions as they age, especially with dementia. A lot of people think that once someone is diagnosed with dementia, they can no longer make decisions for themselves. However, the article explains that this isn’t true. In fact, a person with dementia can still make decisions, but it depends on the situation and how advanced their condition is. The bridge between both describing the procedure of loosing memories with dementia and intertwining with the chronology of the story beautidfully shows not only the overall applications of Dementia but the personal impact of the disorder.

One important point the article makes is that doctors can disagree on whether a person with dementia is still able to make decisions. This is because there is no one set way to test someone’s decision-making ability. It’s not as simple as saying “yes” or “no” to whether someone is able to make choices. Instead, it’s a lot more specific and can change over time. For example, a person might still be able to decide what they want to eat, but they might not be able to choose the best medical treatment for themselves. The article pin-points a hole of thought within dementia and tries to decompose the complexity of this ethical decision which is often overlooked.

The article also talks about the legal side of dementia. Even if someone with dementia can’t remember a decision, like who they want to make decisions for them, that decision can still count. This is confusing because it means a judge might have to decide whether someone is able to make decisions, even if doctors and family members disagree. The case of Diane in the article is a good example of this. Her family fought over who should be her legal guardian, which led to a lot of legal fees and stress. This also brings into the discussion the relationship between ethical and legal atmospheres. How much does a doctor know and how much does a judge know? Which is more important? How does the autonomy of the patient change?

An important theme in this week’s readings is how individuals connect to larger issues within a community, showing how personal experiences reflect bigger problems in the system. In the article “Fixing the Broken Lovelies”, Naomi, a nurse, shares her experience working in a psych ward. She describes feeling overwhelmed by the growing number of patients coming in, which makes her job harder and leaves her feeling exhausted. This reflects a bigger issue—the lack of resources in the unit. Naomi also notices problems like patients using medication improperly and seeing people smoking outside the ward. There’s a sign she passes on her way to work that says, “Home of the forgetful and the forgotten,” which highlights the challenge of caring for people who may be overlooked or forgotten in society. This all shows how Naomi’s personal struggles in the ward represent larger, systemic issues in healthcare and mental health care. This also ties into the ability to present a topic and indicate a larger issue of the lack of resources for these sections of the community.