Leticia Jimenez expects to graduate from Cal State San Bernardino this spring with a degree in business administration.
She came to the country without authorization when she was 2 years old and grew up working in the fields of the Coachella Valley with her parents after school.
She's excited about the new opportunities her degree might offer, but feels anxious every time she leaves home. “I make sure I say a good 'goodbye' to my parents,” he said. “I go out with a lot of fear — anything can happen.”
Jimenez, 21, is like millions of undocumented immigrants living in California, whose lives are deeply tied to the state's economic and social fabric — and who have been rattled by the flurry of executive orders signed by President Trump targeting immigrants.
When Jimenez leaves home, he said he always carries a red card detailing his rights under the U.S. Constitution — one in his wallet, one in his car and one on the back of his phone case.
“There's a big chill factor that comes out of this,” said Manuel Pastor, director of the Equity Research Institute at USC, which studies immigrants in the state. About 1 in 8 Californians are in the United States illegally or live with a family member. About the majority of immigrants without legal status in the state 2.4 million peopleHaving lived here for more than a decade, it sets California apart from the rest of the country.
A dramatic shift in enforcement would affect not only undocumented individuals, but their family members “who are citizens or documented immigrant relatives,” Pastor said.
Most in California Migrant based industries – manufacturing, agriculture, hospitality, construction – restricts their travels or stays at home.
“People are afraid to go to the grocery store,” said a farm labor contractor in Ventura County who works with many undocumented workers and did not want to be named for fear of reprisals. “At this point there are migrants who are afraid to even go to the hospital to give birth.”
Mario Cervantes, a Mexican planter who has lived in Los Angeles for the past two decades, said he supports Trump's plan to deport criminals who are here illegally.
But Cervantes, now 50, worries that anyone without accreditation will be rounded up. Having entered the country illegally two decades ago, he said he has been working hard and following the law ever since. She said she thinks Trump's anti-immigration rhetoric isn't aimed at people like her. New Executive Order target Birthright citizenship.
As he travels around Southern California mowing lawns and blowing leaves, he said he wants to be “a little more cautious,” especially in certain neighborhoods.
“If I get deported, there's not much I can do about it at that point,” he said Tuesday as he and a friend chatted on a corner in Wilmington. However, he added: “I believe he will only go after people who come here to cause problems.”
Trump signed a series Clears executive orders — some of which could face legal challenges — could radically change immigration enforcement in the country. The orders aim to end the refugee system, make it harder for some to become naturalized citizens, declare a national emergency at the border, and implement local police. Perform some immigration officer functionsCalifornia has banned it.
Many of California's elected officials have pledged to do what they can to protect immigrants. Atty. Gen. Rob Bonda announced Tuesday morning that his office, along with officials in 17 other states, has filed a lawsuit against the effort to eliminate birthright citizenship.
Masih Fouladi, executive director of the California Immigration Policy Center, said advocates are ready for radical changes.
But many vulnerable still felt the orders were an emotional punch. Fouladi said he heard that More than 1,000 Afghans Those who had supported the American effort in that country and had been granted permission to come to America — many to Sacramento — suddenly found their travel plans in disarray.
People are “freaking out, to say the least,” said Jenny Seon, director of legal services at the Ahri Center, a nonprofit community organization in Buena Park that works with Korean immigrants and others. “Very scary times.”
California has about 560,000 Korean immigrants, 55,000 of whom are undocumented. Her organization works with people without legal status to prepare for possible deportation, including helping to set up guardians for children born in the United States.
“The community is hearing the news and preparing for the worst,” he said. “The immigrant community as a whole has really suffered.”
In Koreatown on Tuesday night, immigrants and their supporters packed Immanuel Presbyterian Church for an awareness and legal workshop, one of several informational sessions held across the state. Organizers handed out cards instructing them not to speak or sign anything if stopped by immigration officials.
“ICE” – US Immigration and Customs Enforcement – “I don't know what the deadline is, but we know we have to prepare now,” said Jorge-Mario Cabrera, a spokesman for the Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights. Los Angeles, or Chirla.
Attorneys are creating a statewide clearinghouse for information about potential immigration enforcement actions. Sirla and other advocates are preparing a hotline for Southern California residents to report raids or other anti-immigrant activity.
Enforcement actions in Kern County in the final weeks of the Biden administration put groups on high alert. Customs and Border Patrol pulled over motorists on Highway 99 in and around Bakersfield. A border official said 78 people have been detained and several suspects have been arrested. About 200 people have been detained, many of them farm workers, prosecutors say.
Teresa Romero, president of the United Farm Workers Union, said that people in the heavily populated San Joaquin Valley were already reeling from Border Patrol inspections at the start of the month when Trump's orders came out.
Administrative actions, he said in a statement, “will only add to the stress, anxiety and fear.”
Still, she and others said undocumented farmworkers continue to go to work.
In South Los Angeles on Tuesday, many immigrants said they had no choice but to work.
“It's hard right now,” said a woman who would only give her first name, Leticia, as she and her husband sold power drills and other construction equipment from their blue van. The sidewalk business barely pays their rent, he said.
“Worrying about deportation would make things worse for us,” said her husband, Manuel.
“We have to leave it to God,” Leticia said.
As immigrants stay longer in the U.S. — working jobs, having children, building networks of friends and family — the threat of deportation becomes more terrifying.
Sitting in the van talking to friends, Juan, who gave only his first name, said fear was always with him.
“It's something that doesn't really go away,” he said.
But tensions rose after Trump's inauguration and Juan's neighbors told him over the weekend that they saw immigration agents driving through the neighborhood. Since the raids in Kern County, many unconfirmed or misconceived rumors of such sightings have circulated.
Fear depresses neighboring economies as people work less and spend less.
Jose Ruiz, 46, said that even though he has a green card, he doesn't have many clients who would hire him to refinish bathroom fixtures. Since they are doing less work, they have less money to hire him.
“I usually have two re-glazing jobs a day,” he said. “Now I'm down to once a day.
“They don't want to leave their homes. Sometimes not even for work.”
