In recent months, a wave of anxiety has rippled through immigrant communities across the United States. The fear is not just of deportation — but of being watched, of being targeted, and of being forgotten by a system that once promised due process.
As an immigration attorney in Brooklyn, the calls and consultations in my office have taken on a distinctly emotional tone in recent months. I represent asylum seekers, professionals, and families from around the world, I hear the same trembling question again and again: “Will they come for us next?”
Many of those concerned are not recent arrivals — they are longtime residents, working and raising children, who have suddenly been made to feel unsafe again.
In a calculated effort to drive up self-deportation, the government has begun issuing generic “Notices of Termination of Parole” giving migrants just seven days to leave. Lacking names or identifying details, the notices warn of enforcement and legal consequences. Separately, the government has launched the CBP Home app, a new tool that allows individuals to self-report their departure. This reflects a troubling shift from due process to a fear-based removal system, pressuring people to leave without ever seeing a judge.
In New York, Natalia Travilina, the founder of TranaRelief, which provides aid to recently arrived immigrant families, particularly those from Ukraine, said the fear among her clients is rising — especially as the temporary protections many of them rely on begin to expire — or carry the constant fear of being revoked at any moment.
“These families have been through war, trauma, and displacement,” Travilina said. “Now they’re terrified again — not because they’ve done anything wrong, but because they’re unsure what will happen when their parole ends.”
Travilina warns that the expiration of parole status will not make people disappear — it will simply create more undocumented immigrants, many of whom had arrived legally and with permission to work and rebuild their lives.
“We should be working toward stability and integration, not pushing people into the shadows,” Travilina adds.
Yet even as fear rises, so does resistance. Across the country, lawyers and civil rights organizations are pushing back. In April, I joined dozens of immigration attorneys in Washington, D.C. for a National Day of Action, meeting with lawmakers to advocate for policies rooted in legal standards and human dignity — not political theatrics.
We offered real solutions. As immigration attorneys, we bring on-the-ground experience that lawmakers need. We see firsthand how policies affect real people. We work within the system every day, and we know what needs to change to make it more just and effective.
What’s unfolding now is not just a legal issue — it’s a test of the country’s commitment to fairness, decency and the rule of law. Behind every notice and headline are families trying to build a future, children going to school, and workers contributing to their communities.
Fear may be the tool, but it does not have to be the outcome.
Immigrants and their advocates across the country — are refusing to be silent. They are standing up, showing up, and insisting that dignity must remain at the heart of American immigration policy.
