In 2016 students in CU recorded their fears following the election
Across Champaign-Urbana immigrant assistance organizations, schools, and local governments are worried but actively planning for the next administration. Eight years ago they underestimated Donald Trump, dismissing his vitriol as mere campaign posturing. This time they know that the incoming president has a plan that could endanger us all. By characterizing immigrants as a national security threat Trump could unleash Patriot Act provisions not just against immigrants, but against organizations that work with them, and possibly any who oppose his policies. And while the official actions the administration might take are sobering, the unofficial possibilities are even more alarming. Trump’s vilification of immigrants provides the justification for private actors to take the law into their own hands. For those who find that hard to imagine, just remember January 6, 2020.
Haunting Memories of 2016
“Eight years ago we had children crying in the hallways.” A local school employee sits opposite me in her office a few days after the election. In the hallway outside there is a display for the Mexican Day of the Dead. Inside, flags from the many countries represented in the student body decorate the walls. “The teachers didn’t know what to do with them,” she continued, “so they sent them down to my office. They were a wreck.”
They shared their worries, she recalled. “How will I live if they take my parents? I’m too young to get a job.” “What if my parents just don’t come home one day?” “Can they arrest me even though I’m just a kid?” “How long would my dad stay in jail before they deport him? I don’t want him to be cold.” There are hundreds of children in the CU school system who live in mixed-status families. Even if only one member of the family lacks documents, they all worry.
In 2016 the school partnered with churches and other legal aid groups to host “know your rights” workshops. “We wanted parents to be prepared, to know what information to gather, and how to explain to children what to do and whom to call if the parents did not come home.” They invited about twenty individuals to the first workshop, choosing those they thought could relay the information to the community. They discouraged children from attending so they could talk freely. But more than 110 families appeared that first night. “I was ready to cry when I looked out and saw parents holding hands with their children as if they could be separated at any moment.” The most emotional moment was when parents were completing the paperwork to appoint a temporary guardian in the event they were deported. “There was not a parent that did not cry as they signed the document and had it notarized. Some had been separated before; this was not something they had to imagine.”
The Silence of 2024
Reflecting on the current moment, this same school employee worried, “In 2016 it seemed that there was a real sense of support from the community.” She recalled that people sent messages of support or put signs in their yards proclaiming that they welcomed their immigrant neighbors. “Now I am not feeling the same environment.”
Caption: Southern Poverty Law Center map of hate flyers reported in Illinois, 2018-2023, the majority of which were Anti-immigrant, Anti LGBTQ, or white nationalist. Report incidents here
She is not wrong; the national climate has changed. In 2016 about one-third of Americans supported mass deportations, now more than half do, including almost nine out of ten Republicans. The weight of that statistic hangs heavily over another meeting a few days later, where two dozen individuals who work or volunteer with immigrant aid organizations have gathered to plan post-election strategy. “This is not a future crisis,” the lead organizer stressed, “it is here. This is not a drill.” Soon brainstorming fills the whiteboard with potential scenarios that should be anticipated. There is energy and commitment, as there was in 2016, but there is a shadow that wasn’t there eight years ago—they can no longer trust the public.
The consequences are many. The first task is an exchange of safety precautions. Many organizations have already scheduled security evaluations; one is planning an active shooter drill. All have received hostile mail or phone calls and know there has been a steady rise in anti-immigrant harassment and hate crimes. Sadly, they agree that although they will again organize “know your rights” workshops, this time there should be no advertising or social media announcements.
There are legal fears as well. This is a supportive community (Urbana has been a sanctuary city since 1986 and Champaign follows similar practices and is a recognized “welcoming city”) and all Illinois police are forbidden by state law from participating in immigration enforcement, but no one knows if local or state laws could protect against a federal program of deportation. Client records could be a point of vulnerability, and one attendee gives a brief overview of national security letters, a Patriot Act provision that can secretly demand access to records. They worry that legislation percolating through Congress (HR 9495) could be used to cancel their non-profit status if Trump continues his trajectory of painting immigrants as national security threats. They worry that all who work in social services could become “mandated reporters” on the immigration status of their clients, their patients, or their students, or even face felony charges for abetting illegal migration. These are not improbable fears.
During the last Trump administration the president slashed budgets and quotas, forcing providers to cut services and staff. Resettlement programs, which work specifically with refugees vetted by the United Nations overseas, suffered when Trump reduced the numbers they could help from 110,000 a year to 15,000. It took them years to recover. Now local staff are racing to process applications and assist refugees before new limits might take effect. “We have been asked by our agency partners how many families we can help before January 20,” one local director recounted. “Some of these families have spent years waiting in refugee camps.” Even those already settled are stressed, fearful they could be deported. “I say no, you are protected by US law [the 1980 US Refugee Act]. But the reality is we have no idea. We have never had a president like this.”
“We Have to Talk About This”
At a Champaign kitchen table two weeks after the election one woman has gathered friends who have all worked with, taught, or worshipped with immigrants over the years. They debate how they could help. Two things are clear: service providers themselves cannot afford to engage in anything resembling political activity. With Trump’s record of retaliation against opponents and the legal tools the administration may activate, organizations cannot risk jeopardizing the services their clients need. The second is that there is no way to ignore the anti-immigrant sentiments in the larger society. Providing accurate information that disproves Trump’s charges of criminality or economic burdens has been tried to little effect. They debate other options.
Champaign-Urbana has a long tradition of organizing marches, but now, they worry, social media has made it easy for opponents to twist coverage of events. A protest could be misrepresented, as the Right fed the narrative of “antifa terrorism” with inaccurate reporting on the Black Lives Matter marches of 2020.
Another older strategy was running full-page statements signed by religious and other community leaders in local papers, but who would sign these today? Not to mention that print newspapers reach a smaller and smaller demographic.
In the end the meeting breaks up with a plan to explore using public billboards to provoke reconsiderations of deportation. “What family values does family separation support?” or “Don’t excuse deportation as mere law enforcement. Enslavement was held in place by ‘law enforcement.’ The Holocaust was carried out by law enforcement.” They also resolve to raise the issue within their circles–to ask businesses how they plan to support their workers and religious leaders and school officials how they will support their communities. They leave with more hope, reassured by meeting others who share their concerns.
“We are All Mexicans Now”
Speaking up was also encouraged by the Mexican Consul in Chicago, Ambassador Reyna Torres Mendivil, when she visited the University YMCA November 19. “When you hear someone say ugly things about Mexicans or Latinos or anyone, don’t keep quiet,” she urged, “It might be uncomfortable, but you can say something. . . . You can push back.” She is joined by panelists who review the ways mass deportation will affect the entire community, not just the undocumented. It will separate families and cripple our ability to invest in the future through education and social services. The angry rhetoric and legal machinery engaged for mass deportation could be deployed against other groups, including the LGBTQ community, and encourage extralegal violence. “Not all of us fit the categories that deportation threatens,” observed a panelist, “But all Latinos, citizens as well as recent arrivals, are in danger. In their eyes we are all Mexicans now.”
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