Recent immigration raids across the Chicago area have left many residents living in fear, but also more united than ever.
Over the past several weeks, US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) officers have conducted intensified operations across Illinois, detaining dozens of undocumented and immigrant residents.
The increased enforcement, which activists say disproportionately affects Latino and Arab neighbourhoods, has spurred co-operation between communities long familiar with surveillance and discrimination.
Fear spreads through ‘Little Palestine’
In a south-west suburb of Chicago, known locally as “Little Palestine”, lawyer Vivian Khalaf says she has been inundated with calls from terrified families.
“We get over seven or eight calls a day from clients who have cases that are ongoing being taken into detention by ICE,” she said. “This is the fear right now within the Palestinian community – being taken into custody, often times for no reason. We have had people with permanent residence cards being taken into custody.”
Ms Khalaf, who runs immigration law firm Khalaf and Abuzir in Palos Hills, says the visible presence of ICE and National Guard patrols has shaken neighbourhoods.
“It has ignited fear. People aren’t going to work. Those with ongoing immigration cases are staying home,” she said. “It’s a ripple effect. It’s not just the undocumented individual but the families they support.”
“There are many in our community that are currently in removal proceedings. They have obtained legal counsel. They’re going to court. They’re fighting by the law as they move through the immigration system, and these people could be taken into custody any day, so there’s a profound sense of fear and anxiety.”
Her office has handled dozens of cases in recent weeks. “At least 50 or 60 this past month in this office alone,” she said. “Many are in ICE detention. Not all of them are in ICE detention. These are cases that we’re dealing with trying to prevent ICE detention. But you really can’t prevent detention. You can only give advice.
“These are calls and people coming in saying, you know, how can I prevent being taken into custody? Many are already in custody. I got a call yesterday with a young man from Mauritania who was taken into custody as he was pumping gas at a gas station by O’Hare, and he came in without inspection through the southern border. Therefore, he’s not bond-eligible. So, there’s quite a few.”
Ms Khalaf says her clients come from around the world – Palestine, Syria, Mexico, Guatemala, Honduras. “It’s a very diverse community here in the south-west side of Chicago,” she said.
She is calling for politicians to end “draconian” immigration enforcement and overhaul the system with “empathy and compassion".
“I’d like to see ICE off our streets and out of our cities,” she said. “I think this administration is just out for retribution against their political enemies, and the only people that suffer are the average man, woman and family here in the United States.
“Comprehensive immigration reform is long overdue. It’s now the time to fix this broken immigration system with empathy, with compassion, and realising that we need immigrants. This country was built on the backs of immigrants.”
Building cross-community solidarity
In Wheaton, about 40km west of Chicago, Cristobal Cavazos, executive director of Casa DuPage Workers Centre, says fear extends deep into the city’s Latino neighbourhoods – but so does resistance.
“It’s institutionalised racism and hate that is weaponised,” Mr Cavazos said. “People are afraid to go to gas stations. We see a lot less activity in Mexican barrios. Some are cancelling birthday parties. They are self-deporting psychologically before being deported physically.”
Yet fear has also galvanised action. “We’ve seen ICE surrounded by protesters,” he said. “Our People’s Patrol, a group of 180 people divided into five different sections, shows up when there are raids. We make noise. We alert the community. ICE doesn’t like that.”
The group operates a rapid-response network, using social media, Facebook live-streams and text messages to warn residents when ICE is near by. “We inform the neighbourhood: stay home, don’t open the door, ask for a lawyer,” Mr Cavazos said.
Every other Friday, he organises training sessions for volunteers on how to best support residents after seeing ICE officers. Over time, these efforts have built bridges between Latino and Muslim communities.
“We’ve built ties with the Indo-Pak and Arab communities. There’s fear there too – fear of being charged with terrorism or un-American activity,” he said. “We have a lot in common.
“I’ve been very proud of Mexico for speaking up for Palestine. Colombia, Cuba have been long-time allies of Palestine. We had a meeting about a month ago with the Palestinian community. We had some Muslim leaders here, and we were talking about the parallels with Palestine and with Mexico.”
Mr Cavazos says Latino activists have joined Palestinian marches in Chicago, and vice versa. “At some protests, you’ll see Latino protesters wearing keffiyehs,” he said. “That pain our Muslim brothers and sisters feel, we feel it too. We feel the pain of the oppressed. The oppressed of the world need to be united. An injury to one is an injury to all.”
Despite daily reports of ICE activity at gas stations and flea markets, he says the community refuses to back down. “Chicago has put up a fierce resistance,” he said. “We don’t like bullies. We don’t like scapegoats. Standing up for the weak, that’s being strong.”
When asked if he fears being arrested for interfering with federal officers, Mr Cavazos replied: “Martin Luther King Jr once said, 'In an unjust land, the prison cell is the only place for a just man'. So, you know, if you’re not facing that, you have to wonder how much you’re really out there making a difference.”
Community resources and resilience
Local organisations such as Arab American Family Services have been running Know Your Rights seminars and hotlines to help families prepare for any raids.
Itedal Shalabi and Nareman Taha, co-founders of AAFS in Illinois, say anxiety runs deep in the Arab community.
“If you walk down Little Palestine, where businesses were once bustling, many streets are now empty,” Ms Taha said. “People are afraid to come out.”
AAFS is part of a coalition running a rapid-response team with other local organisations and the Illinois Coalition for Immigrant and Refugee Rights.
“We’re the eyes and ears on the ground,” Ms Taha said. “We teach people what to do if they encounter ICE agents, in English, Arabic or Spanish, and equip them with the knowledge to protect themselves.”
Ms Shalabi said the group also helps families when loved ones are detained. “Our response team helps locate cars, contact families and connect them with legal aid. When ICE picks people up, they leave everything behind – children, cars, families," she said.
“ICE doesn’t wait to check if you’re illegal or not. They pick up green card holders, asylum seekers, even DACA [Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals] recipients."
Ms Taha urged community members to stay connected. “If you’re scared to step outside, build a network around you – family, friends, neighbours you trust. Stay in contact with someone, let someone know that you are still around. Carry the AAFS family support hotline number.
"Tragedy brings out the best in people. Arabs are standing up for Latinos, and Latinos for Asians. Communities are coming together to protect one another.”
A community on edge
At Al Bawadi Grill, a popular Palestinian restaurant in Bridgeview, manager Hamza Ismail says the fear runs deep.
“You hear every couple days where somebody’s sending you a text saying, ‘Hey, ICE is on Harlem [Avenue]. They’re doing seat belt checks or what not',” he said. “People tell their friends to be careful. The community here, whether it be Palestinian, the Latino community, whatever community it might be, we’re all in touch, making sure we communicate as much as we can.”
Mr Ismail says the unease extends beyond the streets. He recalled being pulled aside for questioning by US Customs and Border Protection officers after returning from a trip to South Africa recently.
“On my way back to the US, I got pulled in for secondary inspection,” he said. “I’m pretty loud on social media about my stance on Gaza and I’m always trying to post about ‘Free Palestine'.”
He said the officers held him for about an hour, took his phone and inspected his social-media accounts before asking pointed questions about his background and beliefs.
“They asked me about Hamas and what connections I have,” he said. “I’m an American citizen. At the end of the day, I never posted anything that had to do with Hamas itself. I just posted about the murders and the genocide – just straight facts.”
Mr Ismail, who was eventually allowed to leave, says the incident left him shaken.
“In the end they tried to gear it off as some sort of random inspection, and because I travelled to what they said were ‘places Americans don’t usually travel to.’ I was like, OK, that’s different.”
For many in Illinois, experiences like Mr Ismail’s reflect how fear has spread beyond immigration raids into daily life. Yet even as anxiety deepens, so does a quiet resilience. Neighbours once separated by language and faith are now bound by a common resolve – to look out for one another.
