For children, immigration enforcement can leave scars

In 2020, the U.S government deported 164,455 people. Remy Espinoza, formerly of Amsterdam, is one of them.

Remy, as the Times Union reported, was moved between detention facilities, where he contracted and grew weak from COVID before being sent to Nicaragua, a place he left 34 years ago, at age 18, seeking political asylum. Remy’s U.S. citizen wife — a local social worker and therapist — lost a husband; his children were denied the right to live with their father.

It is easy to blame President Donald Trump for such injustices, with his anti-immigrant talk, support for border policies separating families, and attacks on the constitutional right of birthright citizenship. But on the eve of a Joe Biden presidency, we must remember: Despite a gentler rhetoric, the Barack ObamaBiden administration deported more than 3 million individuals, and George W. Bush over 2 million. Together, that totals at least 5 million people — many parents like Remy — removed between 2000 and 2016.

Psychologists know that adverse childhood experiences can cause longstanding effects and trauma well into adulthood. I have wanted to know if enforcement actions do too. For two years, I have interviewed young adults—57 so far — all U.S. citizens and New Yorkers raised in New York City or upstate, exposed to immigration enforcement as children.

I’ve learned that enforcement actions are not equal in impact. Those reporting longstanding

trauma share certain characteristics.

First, they often directly witnessed the enforcement action. A 25-year-old, for example, spoke of uncontrolled shaking and tears when encountering police, a bodily re-living of the trauma of a police car ride with her parents, taken to an immigration office where she watched them fingerprinted, at age 7.

Second, they became involved in the aftermath of enforcement. They translated at lawyers’ appointments or wrote letters for parents’ cases about possible devastating losses, commonly included in petitions arguing for waivers of deportation. Due to such stress, some entered therapy; others sought medication for anxiety.

Third, they experienced severe disruptions to their daily lives: economic problems, multiple moves or divorce. Enforcement builds into other forms of family instability.

Fourth, those who spoke of the deepest losses and trauma all had parents — not other relatives or friends — targeted for enforcement.

These stories show that enforcement without legalization pathways is bad public policy. Family separations hurt people. Fears of separation can be just as harmful. Yet interviews also reveal ways enforcement can be more — or less — humane.

Biden, elected officials in the Legislature: Listen up.

First, governmental agencies should not arrest or detain parents for immigration violations, especially in front of children. Parents should remain home until their cases resolve. They are not flight risks; children tie them to communities.

Second, parents of U.S. citizens should be eligible for waivers of deportation on the assumption that separation in and of itself causes hardship. Currently, the bar to prove hardship is unduly high, often arbitrarily applied, requiring children themselves plead cases. A parental deportation alone violates U.S. citizens’ rights to the pursuit of happiness by living in a stable family.

Third, funding must shift from enforcement to the courts, to resolve immigration cases more quickly. The longer cases unfold, the more disruptive and involved children become, the more likely trauma results. Alone, each measure is not enough; together they can better protect children.

In the wake of November’s election, Trump’s xenophobic rhetoric will likely dissipate. This is big. Many young adults spoke about heightened anxieties in 2016. They just voted. Elections matter. Yet a change in rhetoric is insufficient. Biden must do better than Bush, Obama and Trump. He must implement immigration policies that protect, not violate, the rights of children of immigrants.