HAVEN AND HELL
Mom of two kids born here hides in Upper West Side church to avoid ICE deportation
Guatemalan immigrant Aura Hernandez, 36, clings to 15-month-old daughter Camila — one of her two U.S.-born kids along with 10-year-old son Daniel — as she takes sanctuary from ICE at the Fourth Universalist Society Church on Wednesday.
AN IMMIGRANT mother of two is hoping the separation of church and state keeps immigration agents from tearing her away from her two little ones.
Aura Hernandez, a 37-year-old from Guatemala, watched her 15-month-old daughter take a few bouncy steps in front of an altar at Fourth Universalist Society Church at 76th St. and Central Park West Wednesday afternoon and picked her up in her arms.
The toddler smiled, but her mom was unable to smile back. Hernandez said concern for the little girl and her 10-year-old son Daniel is the reason she ran into this nondenominational church about a month ago for fear a deportation order may separate her from them.
Both children were born in the U.S. and are American citizens, she said.
“That is my worst nightmare, to be separated from them,” Hernandez said softly. “They are born here. They have rights. I came here looking for sanctuary when I reached the end of the rope,” she said softly.
“I have to keep fighting to stay with them. They need their mother.”
Like other immigrants around the country, Hernandez is the latest undocumented immigrant to seek sanctuary in a church in the age of President Trump.
Kirk Cheyfitz, an activist with the New Sanctuary Coalition, said there are currently 42 immigrants in 25 states seeking sanctuary in houses of worship. There are at least two In New York, both from Guatemala. The coalition has a network of 150 houses of worship in the U.S., including Christian churches, temples and mosques.
Immigration activists were planning a march Thursday morning calling for ICE to back off. But Hernandez knows her fate is uncertain.
“I’m scared. What else can I do? For years I did what they asked me. Now it feels like this government wants to get rid of us immigrants,” she said. “We have always been afraid, but when Trump won I said to myself, ‘We are screwed.’
“They didn’t used to go after immigrants without a criminal record like they do now. Now they go after moms, parents, everyone.”
The church’s pastor, Schuyler Vogel, said church officials decided to establish a sanctuary about a year ago. When immigrant advocates told them about Aura Hernandez, they accepted the challenge, Vogel said.
“We have been on the edge of justice work for a while, but this is a new journey for us,” Vogel said. “There was a lot of concern postelection here in this city. We heard about Aura’s case. We want to protect her from deportation. We have reason to believe she would be in imminent danger if she is to be deported.”
The church has seen some backlash for its progressive stance in the past, including anti-Semitic vandalism, he said.
“We want to teach others about our undocumented population and why their humanity matters,” Vogel said. “Aura may not be an American citizen, but she is someone who believes in our values. I certainly don’t like living in a country that thinks it’s okay to tear children from their mother.”
Hernandez said she tried to comply with ICE’s requests for years. She showed up for ICE meetings for five years, from 2013 to 2017, until she was told there would be no more check-ins. They asked her to arrange a flight home or face removal by force.
“I noticed the difference when White House administrations changed. When Trump won they told me there would be no more meetings. They canceled my work permit and told me I needed to go back,” she said.
i’m scared. What else can i do? for years i did what they asked me. Now it feels like this government wants to get rid of us immigrants. We have always been afraid, but when trump won i said to myself, “We are screwed.” aUra HerNaNdez
“Nothing satisfied them anymore. I told them I had children here. They didn’t care. Before I had fear. Now I have panic.”
An ICE spokeswoman told The News the agency had no comment pending further research about her case.
Her immigration lawyer told Hernandez there was nothing else he could do for her and walked away from the case. She searched for help online and talked to activists at the New Sanctuary Coalition. They referred her to the Upper West Side church, she said.
Since then she’s been living in a modest lounge upstairs in the century-old sanctuary. Her kitchen consists of bread, cookies and sodas stacked on a table. She sleeps in a room designed for gatherings and meetings. The room is furnished with office chairs and adorned with rainbow-colored toy blocks that distract little Camila. Her husband, also undocumented, has stayed in Westchester County, where they had been living, but keeps in touch with her every day.
“This is not easy, but I have to do this for my children. I’m afraid. The children know I am worried. They ask me, ‘Are you OK?’ Even the little one looks sad. She knows she’s not home,” she said. “I can’t walk out of this church. They would arrest me. This is like a golden jail. I am trapped here. All of these deportations is causing people to selfdeport. But I won’t run away. I will stay here.
“I didn’t want to run away to another state. I wanted to stay here to resolve my situation,” she said. “My children inspired me to stay and fight. The church has been Godsent. They have been great with me.”
She said only violence and despair awaits her in her native Guatemala. She fled in 2005 to escape an abusive relationship. Immigration officials first stopped her after she crossed into Texas, and gave her a court date.
Fearing deportation, she ignored the court order and made her way to Westchester to live with an older sister. There she got a job as a waitress, met a fellow immigrant and had two children.
“I’m sure that if I go back, I won’t be safe. I can always try to defend myself, but don’t want to put my two children in danger. I made a life for myself here. I got married and had children,” she said. “I had a good life here. It didn’t last for long.”
In 2013 her fate changed when she was driving to church with her son. She drove into a street that had been closed that day, she recalled. She turned pale when she heard a police siren behind her.
“He told me, ‘You have a deportation order,’ and told me to go see ICE,” she said. “I told my children I was going to do everything possible to stay together. I ask my son, ‘Do you trust me?’ He said yes. I told him everything is going to work out.
“He stays quiet. He’s nervous. I’m petrified.”