How fear, partisanship and discrimination are impacting one couple’s fight for immigration justice.
*Name has been changed to protect identities
Just days after Donald Trump’s first inauguration, Sarah* and Matt* rushed to City Hall to get married, not because of romance or tradition, but because they were terrified. A recently-signed executive order that came to be known as the “Muslim Ban” signaled to them that the administration would wage war on immigrants. In fact, that war had already begun.
“I never thought about marriage as a necessity,” Sarah explains. “But once Trump was elected, my knee-jerk reaction was to protect [Matt.] I thought marriage might give me some power. At least I could ask where he was if he got detained.”
Sarah, a U.S. citizen, and Matt, who is undocumented, met in the early 2000s. Their friendship grew over shared experiences and conversations, especially during a stretch when Sarah left the country to visit relatives and realized that, before coming to America, Matt had lived in a similar area as her relatives. Their connection, forged long before Matt’s immigration status became a threat, turned into a committed partnership.
After Trump took office, the stakes changed.
Being married to a U.S. citizen does not protect an undocumented person from being deported or detained. Even attempting to pursue legal status involves navigating a punishing and expensive bureaucracy.
“You have to qualify for a [hardship] waiver and then you have to leave the country for an interview. [Nothing is] guaranteed. It’s all a gamble—and a very costly one,” Sarah says. “We didn’t realize how high the bar was, or how many roadblocks were ahead.”
Matt has lived in the U.S. for more than 20 years. He pays taxes with an IRS-issued Taxpayer Identification Number (TIN). “Since day one,” he says, “I’ve done what’s right. But none of that matters. With Trump [there’s now a] target on my back. It’s no longer about whether I’m ‘good’—it’s about when [the immigration agents] come for me.”
Reality for Sarah and Matt is a constant, grinding anxiety. The threat isn’t just deportation, but unlawful detention. “Our worst fear is being separated,” Sarah says. “The detention system is designed to exploit people. Bodies are now a commodity.”
After they were married, Sarah and Matt applied for what’s known as a hardship waiver, which allows an individual who is otherwise inadmissible to the U.S. to pursue legal citizenship if they can prove that their removal would cause extreme hardship to a U.S. citizen family member. To qualify, they were forced to submit extensive documentation, go through biometric screenings and provide Sarah’s medical records. Giving the U.S. government this much information on them without the guarantee their waiver may be granted has only deepened their vulnerability.
“You give them everything—bank accounts, personal history—and in the end, all it does is make you easier to find if they decide to take you,” Sarah says.
Their plans—going back to school, building a future—are suspended. Every ounce of energy goes into staying safe, navigating bureaucracy, and advocating for others in similar situations.
“There’s no plan,” Matt says. “We just take it day by day. If I leave the house, I wonder if I’ll come back.”
Even basic employment is now difficult. Without a work permit, Matt can’t get a stable job, even though he’s worked multiple jobs for years to support his family.
“People don’t understand,” Sarah says. “There is no visa for a dishwasher. There’s no path for the people doing the essential work that keeps this country running.”
Sarah tried to secure “parole in place” status for Matt—a policy that allowed undocumented spouses of citizens to apply for work permits without risk of raids. It was swiftly shut down after political opposition.
“It makes me resentful when people claim immigrants are here to steal jobs,” Matt says. “I didn’t come here to take anything. I came here because it was my last choice. Either I migrate somewhere or I end up dead or jailed in my home country.”
Sarah adds that, in her experience not just with Matt, but with others in their community, it’s become clear that the “system is designed to exploit. You’re good enough to pay taxes and into social security, but not good enough to be protected or have rights. That’s the trap.”
“You’re good enough to pay taxes and into social security, but not good enough to be protected or have rights. That’s the trap.”
Sarah and Matt’s story is a reminder that the immigration system in the U.S. is more punitive than probative. Matt has consistently attempted to find legal paths to citizenship and has been consistently denied. Sarah has consistently advocated for her partner but, in a political climate where immigration is a wedge issue, she fears that scapegoating, racism and discrimination now defines U.S. policy.
“All we want now is peace,” Sarah says. “We just don’t want to be terrorized by our government. They’re stealing our time, our quality of life. It’s hideous.”
Lora Strum, Managing Editor, ACLU
From article: “It makes me resentful when people claim immigrants are here to steal jobs,” Matt says. “I didn’t come here to take anything.”
(Left unsaid is the reason he’s in the country illegally, of course. Takes some degree of confidence to be “resentful” when you’re in the country illegally.)
But it’s actually employers who seek out both legal, and illegal immigration to fill jobs (depending upon the industry). For example, H-1 VISAS for higher-skilled “legal” immigrants, but lower-skilled “undocumented” workers in farming, construction, personal nannys and housekeepers, etc. (Not to mention the sex trade, I believe.)
If it wasn’t for EMPLOYER interests, it’s likely that this country would have restricted a lot more immigration – both legal, and illegal.
But there is a solution to illegal immigration, at least – don’t do it in the first place. Better for you, better for the U.S. as a whole (other than for the employers who encourage it).
School districts also have an incentive to support immigration – both legal and illegal (makes no difference regarding the funds they receive per student.)
And universities have an interest in this as well.
No one is forced to immigrate to America and it takes a lot of balls to do it illegally and then complain about the conditions once they get here.
I often wonder if these stories where the name has been changed are factual. If this is indeed a real person since they’ve been in the country for over 20 years haven’t they had plenty of time to apply for and become a citizen? Our country does have rules just like other countries do. If they don’t like our rules then don’t come here.
A few thoughts…
First, people don’t usually “choose” to immigrate illegally the way you’re implying. Many are fleeing violence, persecution, poverty, or political instability—often conditions that have roots in U.S. foreign policy, trade agreements, or regional interventions. It’s not about “balls,” it’s about survival.
Second, the process to obtain legal status or citizenship is not straightforward. The U.S. immigration system is notoriously slow, complex, and broken. For many undocumented immigrants, especially those who came here as children, there is no path to legal residency or citizenship at all. They can live here for decades, contribute to society, pay taxes, and still remain in legal limbo due to systemic barriers—not personal failure.
Third, criticizing conditions doesn’t mean someone hates the U.S. It’s entirely consistent to want to be here and want it to live up to its ideals. People who risk their lives to come here, and then fight for better treatment, are engaging in exactly the kind of democratic participation we claim to value.
I Googled and one can become a citizen in less than 2 years if they apply through the correct channels. This person had 20 years to do so. As far as persecution in their home countries I think everyone knows that’s being hugely overplayed and not the case for the vast majority of immigrants. They know to say it because that’s what they’re told to say.
While some immigrants may become citizens in under two years—usually through marriage to a U.S. citizen or military service—that’s not the norm. For most, even getting a green card can take a decade or more, depending on their country of origin, visa category, and backlogs. And without legal status, there’s no line to get in.
David says: “First, people don’t usually “choose” to immigrate illegally the way you’re implying. Many are fleeing violence, persecution, poverty, or political instability—often conditions that have roots in U.S. foreign policy, trade agreements, or regional interventions. It’s not about “balls,” it’s about survival.”
So even if that’s true, or partially/sometimes true, what about all of those “left behind”? Are they worse-off as a result of people fleeing their own country?
This is the same type of question I ask regarding poaching of students from other districts (which would ultimately include encouraging them to “move to Davis” from somewhere else). In other words, what about those “left behind”?
Also wondering about all of those who can’t simply “walk into” the country, and have to deal with an ocean first. So even though they may be worse-off than anyone else, some apparently favor those who can simply walk across the border (or take a small, capsizable boat) by illegally entering from a bordering country.
(Also wondering at what point those in other countries take responsibility for their own country, rather than pinning blame on the U.S. to justify illegal immigration. Or more accurately, at what point those with a particular type of political outlook – who are usually U.S. citizens, cease using this vague justification.)