While thousands of families celebrated the Fourth of July in the United States, others – especially Latino immigrants – spent the day in hiding, afraid to go out on the streets for fear of arrest.
One of those mothers is Lennimar Rivas, a Venezuelan woman with three U.S. citizen children, who since June 12 has been living practically locked in her home.
Between illness and persecution
Lennimar Rivas received a notice from the Department of Homeland Security(DHS) announcing the termination of her humanitarian permit and requesting that she self-report.
This left her without immigration status and without protection from deportation, just when she is suffering from two serious illnesses:
Guillain-Barré syndrome and type 1 diabetes, conditions that require constant medical attention and access to medicines that he could not afford in Venezuela, his native country.
“If they take me, I feel like I’m going to die,” he confesses.
“I couldn’t be without my children. They have kept me alive, fighting through all the things I’ve been through.”
Isolated by fear, Lennimar Rivas now depends on her children for survival.
Wyatt, her youngest son, 14, is the one who goes out to buy groceries, does the laundry and takes on household chores.
Her other 16-year-old son has told her, “I’m hiding you, Mom. Tell me what I do.”
Psychological impact on children
Fear of ICE raids does not only affect adults.
Community organizations have warned about the emotional effects this situation is having on children.
According to Mayra Todd, director of an organization that supports immigrant women, fear has become an emotional burden comparable to what she experienced during the pandemic:
“This trauma is not erased. The children are distressed all the time. It’s worse than being locked up because of the virus.”
Neighborhoods such as Boyle Heights, El Sereno and Huntington Park, with a large Latino presence, have suspended public events for safety.
Traditional 4th of July celebrations were cancelled for fear of surprise ICE raids.
For many families, like Lennimar Rivas, simply going to a park or participating in a meeting has become a risk.
A symbol of struggle
Si me llevan, siento que me voy a morir
Lennimar Rivas’ story is not isolated, but represents a reality shared by many undocumented mothers living on the edge.
Without a work permit and facing chronic illness, her only hope is to get financial support to pay for immigration counseling to fight her case and avoid deportation.
Currently, she has started an online campaign on GoFundMe to raise funds to help her continue her legal battle and stay with her children in the United States.
For more information, visit QuéOnnda.com.
