“Without him, without my husband and the father of my children. I don’t know if I’ll be able to go on…”
We can all agree that Trump’s second term has hit us like a terrible storm, and while some take their time to accept it, at the end of the day, we are all getting drenched.
Ana certainly believes so. She fights back tears as she tells me how her husband was detained by ICE officials this past April. The place where they detained him? Her child’s middle school. It’s hard not to notice the pattern. Parents are being stopped at schools where most of the children are Latino. Maybe it’s just a coincidence, but when the same families, the same communities, continue to be singled out, it starts to feel like something deeper than coincidence. Most of the stories shared today are anything but coincidence.
My name is Nicole Sanchez Bogdanovich, and I currently work as part-time server at a restaurant in downtown D.C. while interning at the National Organization for Women. Since arriving in the United States, I have been struck by this country’s fixation on race and its innate desire to classify us under the excuse of preserving identity. And while I appreciate the celebration of diverse cultures, what I struggle to understand is the contempt and hierarchy that emerge from these classifications.
Many fellow Latinos share this confusion and confront the concept of race only when assimilation forces them to. These are realities we never expect to face when migrating, yet once they appear, we have no choice but to confront them. I began to understand this more deeply when I met all these women while working at the restaurant, and those interactions have been my most tangible exposure to the impact this administration is having on my Latino community.
Ana is a hardworking mother of two, and unfortunately, she and her family have been directly affected by the immigration measures Trump has enforced since the beginning of his administration. Listening to someone else’s pain is never easy, but I believe I have reached a different stage of pain when I see that it is not only my community being affected, but people I deeply care about. It is the hopelessness in their eyes that moves me and drives me to write about them.
But let’s continue with Ana’s story, because I believe she embodies what a nowadays warrior would be. I have seen her smile after the unimaginable. This makes me wonder: Is it true there are things a politician can’t take from us? Ana has two children and is originally from Honduras. She arrived in the United States almost 10 years ago, and one of her children is a citizen. I’ve had the privilege of knowing her and hearing her story, particularly her love story.
“I met him in my town when I was just a young girl. We fell in love and there was no turning back. Sometimes I ask myself why this had to happen to me. I try to stay informed with the help of my community, and my family has been a great support. I cannot deny that I fell into a deep depression, but I cannot stop, because I am not alone. Although sometimes when I go to sleep, I wonder if life would be easier if I just left. It isn’t easy. Nothing is.”
In the same way, I meet Lucia, who speaks with a trembling voice and asks for my help translating something to speak with our boss. But before I can even tell her that I will be of help, she gives me the honor of entering her world. And in that same spirit, I share it with you.
“My daughter, little Lucia, is not well and she needs me at home. I want to ask for some days off because I need to take care of my family. I found wounds on her arms. My family just found out that my brother-in-law was detained by ICE, and my cousin is devastated. We are all trying to organize because they have two little children, and I want to be helpful, but there are things I myself still cannot understand. This is very personal…”
To this day I feel like my reaction did not do justice to what I felt. That is why I decided to write about this, because storytelling is a political act. Lucia is a mother of one and originally from El Salvador. She is currently seeking professional help for her daughter. You will find her reading English books in the corners of the workplace and occasionally asking the meaning of certain words. I offer them kindly, remembering that, for anyone learning a language, the hardest part is not translating words, but translating the message behind them. How sad that the message seen in media outlets rarely leaves anything good to hold on to.
Lastly, Andrea. She is particularly special, not because her story is more or less important, but because in her kindness I have learned that not even during the most severe crises or political polarization is there a reason not to lend a hand to those who need it most.
Andrea does not always tell me what’s on her mind, but, as in many moments in life, words are not necessary to understand a message. I glance over her shoulder and see her social media filled with videos about which parts of the city to avoid if raids occur, what to do if officers come to your house, and one day, in tears, we memorized my phone number in case she ever needs to make a call we pray she will never have to make. No one has been taken from her, but she has lost a spark in her eyes since Trump took office, and that is terrible too.
“I fall asleep afraid, I wake up afraid, I check my phone and what I see is no better. I’ve started to believe I deserve to leave, even though the only reason I came here in the first place was to give my parents a better life! They deserve it. Now my American dream has turned into a nightmare, one I myself chose.”
Andrea is a lesbian woman originally from Colombia, a devoted activist in the queer community and a firm believer that your political beliefs reflect who you are. She works two jobs to support her retired parents and has a sister who is her biggest cheerleader. Right now, she questions her place in this country, while also knowing she no longer belongs in Colombia because she chose to love freely. Andrea organizes fundraisers to support her fellow workers and patiently listens to anyone in need, because she has learned the hard way what the phrase “when it rains, we all get wet” truly means.
According to the Migration Policy Institute, about 340,000 deportations have been conducted this year. While numbers alone cannot capture reality, it is enraging to think this figure continues to grow. There are many reasons why social movements begin. Some emerge from the urgent need to stop oppression, while others come from the belief that a better, more just reality is possible.
If you asked me, I’d say this movement exists beyond the concept of eradicating violence against women, but more about creating real opportunities where none existed before. For NOW, that means actively supporting women in vulnerable situations through an intersectional approach, ensuring that those more at risk are seen, heard, and empowered.
During my time at the National Organization for Women, I have learned that all of these reasons are valid, because we share one common goal: creating a more equitable society. Now, it is up to all of us to continue this work and find our own reason to keep fighting.
Digital Media & Communications Intern, Nicole Sanchez Bogdanovich
Resources
Migration Policy Institute. (n.d.). New era of enforcement under Trump. https://www.migrationpolicy.org/news/new-era-enforcement-trump-2#:~:text=Based%20on%20the%20latest%20publicly,detention%20with%20a%20voluntary%20departure