The election of Donald Trump to a second term has unleashed a wave of anxiety and fear among undocumented immigrants across the United States.
For individuals like Angel Palazuelos, the prospect of Trump’s return to the White House has become a daily source of dread.
Palazuelos, a 22-year-old graduate student in biomedical engineering living in Phoenix, Arizona, is haunted by Trump’s past promises of mass deportations.
A Mexican national who was brought to the U.S. at the age of four, Palazuelos is one of the country’s so-called “Dreamers”—undocumented immigrants who arrived as children and have spent much of their lives in America without obtaining citizenship.
“I am in fear of being deported, of losing everything that I’ve worked so hard for and, most importantly, being separated from my family,” Palazuelos said, reflecting on his mounting anxiety since Trump’s victory. “I was terrified.”
During his campaign, Trump repeatedly targeted illegal immigration, using harsh rhetoric and dehumanising language about immigrants, even calling them “criminals” and accusing them of “poisoning the blood” of the nation.
While Trump has not outlined specific plans for mass deportations, experts warn that such efforts would be logistically complex and extremely costly.
For Palazuelos, the uncertainty of his future is made worse by the growing concerns over his status as a Dreamer.
“What do mass deportations mean? Who does that include? Does it include people like me, Dreamers, who came here as children with no say in the matter?” he asked, visibly shaken by the possibility that his years of hard work might come to an abrupt and unjust end.
The fear is heightened by recent developments in Arizona, where a referendum passed allowing state police to arrest individuals suspected of being in the U.S. illegally—powers that were previously the purview of federal border authorities. If this law is upheld by the courts, Palazuelos worries that it could lead to heightened racial profiling and discrimination.
“What makes someone a suspect of being here illegally?” Palazuelos asked. “Does it mean that people like my grandma, who is a U.S. citizen but doesn’t speak English well, will be targeted just because of her accent or appearance? And what about me? I speak English fluently, but could I be detained because of the color of my skin?”
Jose Patino, 35, shares Palazuelos’s sense of dread. Born in Mexico and brought to the U.S. at the age of six, Patino has been working with Aliento, a community organization that supports undocumented immigrants. He was a recipient of the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) program, which has provided legal protections and work permits to those in his situation.
However, the future of DACA remains uncertain under Trump’s administration. The program, which Trump has vowed to end, was previously under threat during his first term but survived a legal challenge in the U.S. Supreme Court. Now, with DACA protections set to expire next year, Patino is bracing for the worst.
“I’m seriously considering moving to a state where authorities will not report me to federal immigration, like California or Colorado,” Patino said, his voice heavy with concern. “But that doesn’t fix the bigger problem. It’s the uncertainty that’s so stressful.”
AFP
