The day that the ICE raids hit Los Angeles in June, I called my handyman and hairdresser.
Since moving to Los Angeles 21 years ago, they have been part of my life.
Both are undocumented, although one has temporary protected status. While that offers some protection, the administration has revoked or threatened to revoke TPS for many countries.
My hairdresser recently shared that her cancellation of removal case was denied and told me she didn’t have to leave the country. I told her that was not accurate — that the denial is, in fact, an order to leave the country. I offered to read her paperwork. I advised her, even though she’s not my client, yet she remained adamant that she was told she didn’t have to leave.
She may be able to file a family-based petition based on an adult child. I hope she can obtain that immigration relief.
Six months ago, I gave her a red card that has KYR information, and someone in her shop asked why they would need it if they all have legal status. She’s a business owner, an employer, a landlord, and undocumented. She smiles all the time. Even with current immigration raids, she carries on with her day, and she chooses to live with hopefulness and not fear.
Recently, I went by her shop to take my son for a haircut before we travel for the summer, and she was sitting in the dark. I asked her if she was open, and she said she was, but she had the lights off to save electricity. She said no clients had come in since the raids started. It was heartbreaking to hear that an immigrant business had been devastated by fear in the immigrant community.
That struck me as ironic — my hairdresser is ever an optimist, and she’s more worried about her lack of business due to raids than her personal safety. She has children here in their 20’s, as well as a daughter who is the same age as my son. When I come in for my haircuts, we talk about the trips we take. Hers have involved driving across the entire state to New York and across the entire country to Key West. She mentioned wanting to go to Hawaii, but doesn’t have a real ID.
She’s frustrated at the immigration process, asking me how it is that people are cutting in line and getting ahead of her. Though she takes her daughter to school, travels, and plans for the future, there are certain things she can’t do because of the added layer of fear from her immigration status.
Her resilience stands besides another story.
I am terrified for my handyman. I am worried his TPS will be revoked. I am worried he will lose his Medi-Cal benefits. He works seven days a week and sends all his money home to his wife, two children, and a grandchild.
He told me he was at a Home Depot during an ICE raid, that many of his coworkers are not showing up to work, and another coworker was evicted after losing his job and was now sleeping in a park. Because he has TPS, he has a lot of privileges others do not.
He recently asked me to accompany him to the doctor, out of fear of ICE. He also asked me to go to the DMV with him because his ID was expired; he didn’t go to renew it out of fear.
Whether out of necessity or a craving for normalcy, my hairdresser and handyman continue their daily lives. Although the fear of detainment is ever present, they both still celebrate joy, showing up with a smile.
This is not to downplay the trauma they face, their lives have been turned completely upside down in only a few months. But both of them recognize the importance of hard work, positivity, and resilience, even when so many questions are unanswered. They continue to work towards their goals, with the hope that they will be able to remain in this country to enjoy the lives they have built.
Most importantly, they have not given up.
Like with my hairdresser and handyman, we can face these challenges with joy and care for one another. That resilience is how we keep moving forward together.
Carmen McDonald is an attorney who serves as Executive Director of the Survivor Justice Center; she is a Public Voices Fellow of the OpEd Project and Blue Shield of California.
