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Tampa-area immigrants brace for Trump's promise of mass deportations

woman wearing a Christmas sweater holds a red blanket in front of presents
Nancy Guan
/
WUSF
During a Christmas party, Bamaca picks out a red, furry blanket from a pile of presents. She came to the U.S. more than two decades ago, and hasn't been able to celebrate the holidays with her parents since.

Immigrant communities across the nation are on high alert, including in the Tampa Bay region, which is home to more than 80,000 people without the required legal documents.

At a community center in Wimauma, music jingles in the background as people share Christmas traditions from their home countries like Nicaragua, Puerto Rico and Mexico.

A majority of the families gathered in the small bungalow are immigrants who’ve found work in the area’s agriculture industry.

Normally, they’re here to attend workshops on how to navigate the public school system their children are enrolled in or learn about the newest community project. But on this December evening, it’s a party.

Bamaca, a mother of three, is wearing a green sweater with the words “Santa’s little helper” written on the front. Christmas is a special time, she said.

“It's only one day in the year the family can be together.”

The people we spoke to for this story asked us to use only their last names out of fear that they’ll be targeted for their immigration status. 

READ MORE: Tampa Bay area immigrant youth share concerns about a second Trump term

Relatives from different states travel to her family’s home in Tampa and they make tamales and open gifts at midnight.

But Bamaca said there are loved ones she hasn’t been able to celebrate with for decades — her parents.

Her dad lives in Mexico, and so did her mom before she passed away over a decade ago. Bamaca hasn’t returned in over 22 years, since leaving for the U.S. at age 16. Without required documentation, she isn’t able to travel back and forth across the border.

They’ve only seen each other’s faces through photos, she said. The area he lives in, Bamaca said, is impoverished and has spotty cell service.

When her calls do go through, she explained, it’s a relief.

"Y siento miedo también que le pase algo a él allá por lo mismo del de los carteles (I'm afraid that the cartels may one day take my dad)."

Her dad is in his 70s, and that makes him more vulnerable.

Violence and the lack of economic opportunity are reasons why Bamaca said she left Mexico. But with the incoming president’s threat of deportation, she’s faced with the prospect of going back — and that terrifies her.

Fear is nothing new

In a week, Donald Trump is set to begin his second term in office. His vow to deport millions of undocumented immigrants has communities across the nation on high alert.

Around 82,000 immigrants without required documentation live in the greater Tampa Bay region, according to the Migration Policy Institute. Statewide, there’s about 1.2 million, according to a Pew Research Center report.

Martinez, another immigrant, said while they are fearful, the feeling is nothing new in his community.

"Ese temor es el que es, el que siempre tiene como agobiado a las personas Latinas (The fear — it is what it is — this is one more thing to worry about),” Martinez said.

That fear was there when the state passed one of the most sweeping immigration bills in the nation two years ago, SB 1718.

One of the provisions criminalized transporting or driving undocumented individuals into the state. Another mandated companies with 25 employees or more to verify employees’ immigration status, making it harder to hire undocumented labor.

The former was temporarily blocked by the U.S. District Court of the Southern District of Florida while it decides if the state infringed upon federal immigration law.

But the bill as a whole struck fear into Florida’s immigrant community, causing some to leave the state entirely.

Martinez, a migrant farmworker, stayed.

He hopes that as long as he continues to work like he always has for the past 16 years, he and his family will be OK. He has to be brave for them, he says, especially his 13-year-old daughter.

"Se pone triste (She gets sad),” Martinez said, thinking about what could happen.

How are organizations preparing

Immigrant advocates say they’re preparing by holding workshops for the community and consulting immigration attorneys.

Teresita Matos-Post is the executive director of Beth-El Farm Ministries, a group that provides social services to the agricultural workers in the Wimauma area.

She said the community has expressed a range of emotions.

READ MORE: Survey shows Florida's immigration law causes anxiety and stress — and made people leave

“It went from feeling a sense of helplessness, like, ‘There’s nothing we can do,’ to a spirit of resistance, like, ‘I’ve been here for so many years, we’ll just keep doing what we’re doing and see what happens,’ ” said Matos-Post.

But she said another Trump presidency is driving more families to think about leaving the state to somewhere “less hostile” than Florida.

Federal agencies such as U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement depend on the cooperation of local law enforcement when detaining people. Some states have implemented sanctuary policies meant to protect immigrants in anticipation of Trump’s second term.

“That’s the challenge — the overarching federal directive is going to be one, and then the ways in which it’s going to be implemented and enforced locally is going to be so diverse,” said Matos-Post, “That’s going to make organizations and activists working to resist the injustice super hard.”

'It feels like a risk'

Antonia, who came to the U.S. from Mexico almost 30 years ago, said she remembers Trump’s first term.

Her employer, a plant nursery, gave workers a notarized letter explaining where they were working and to contact the company with any issues.

"La ayuda de ellos es somos nosotros (They need us to work, they need our labor)," Antonia said.

About half of Florida’s agricultural workers lack the required documentation, according to the Florida Policy Institute.

These immigrants also paid about $1.8 billion in state and local taxes in 2022, according to a report from the Institute on Taxation and Economic Policy.

But when Bamaca listens to the news, she says she doesn't hear the incoming administration acknowledge these contributions.

"No somos criminales como yo lo dicen (We're not criminals like they say),” Bamaca said.

But there's no telling what Trump will do, she said. To prepare, she's renewed her children's passports.

In recent years, the state has made it harder for immigrants without needed documentation to drive. Florida requires proof of lawful status to get a license. Some states don't. But it's become illegal to use out-of-state licenses in Florida.

Bamaca says every time she leaves home, it feels even more like a risk.

"Si vamos a regresar a la casa o no (I don't know if one day I won't return home)," she said, adding that she worries if a traffic stop will lead to her deportation.

As WUSF's general assignment reporter, I cover a variety of topics across the greater Tampa Bay region.
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