‘Who am I without my mom?’

By Samin Vafaee

Sofia Fernanda did everything she was supposed to: She graduated from high school, got a restaurant job, keeps paying rent on her own apartment and has always stayed out of trouble. But enmeshed in all that normalcy is a quiet truth – she’s an undocumented immigrant from Mexico.

Sofia Fernanda is not her real name. SN&R is shielding her identity because of a very legitimate fear of being deported.

Sofia didn’t cross the border at 5-years-old with a plan, or to chase something big. She left because staying apart from her family wasn’t an option. After her uncle was in a car accident in Mount Shasta that put in him a coma, and Sofia’s mother hurried to his bedside on a three-month VISA, a temporary situation evolved into a permanent one for the family. By the time Sofia understood what it meant to be undocumented, California was already her whole life.

Sacramento has long been designated a sanctuary city, meaning its policies and practices prioritize local public health and safety concerns over federal deportation directives. In essence, the city doesn’t use its resources to assist or support immigration efforts from the White House.

“It completely matters to live in a sanctuary city when you have a family like mine, this is our home,” Sofia reflects. “I feel so protected here. We are a sanctuary city and they [the city] are making sure we stay that way.”

Currently, the Trump Administration is threatening sanctuary cities like Sacramento by attempting to withhold federal funds. It wants to pressure local governments into helping carry out its deportation agenda. This has resulted in Sacramento joining 15 other cities and counties that filed a lawsuit against the Trump administration in “San Francisco v. Trump.”

If the federal government succeeds, this can set a precedent for allowing federal funds to be weaponized for the benefit of partisan politics. According to the Public Parks Project, these cuts would also remove over $10 billion in taxpayer dollars from the cities and counties involved in the lawsuit, resulting in hurting residents. 

“With every [undocumented] immigrant, you’re always scared to see a police officer, but it has gotten worse now,” Sofia notes. “I’m scared to approach a certain table at work because it’s a table that probably voted for Trump, and I know that they voted for him for certain reasons, and I’m one of those reasons. I’m just thinking ‘Are you judging me? Do you know I’m undocumented? Do you also hate me?’”

With such uncertainty and fear rippling through Sacramento, city officials like Councilmember Mai Vang are working to strengthen efforts around protecting the local undocumented community.

“This year, we renewed the funding for the FUEL network,” Vang says, “which provides critical resources for our immigrant, refugee and undocumented community in Sacramento.”

The FUEL network is Sacramento’s coalition of over 80 organizations, including local non-profits, local pro bono attorneys and educators. They are dedicated to serving the undocumented community with legal representation or mutual aid. Their services include free legal consultations and a Rapid Response program. This year the city allocated $500,000 to the FUEL network to support ongoing efforts.

The FUEL network also offers “Know Your Rights” workshops that emphasize the right to due process. Regardless of someone’s status in this country, everyone has a right to due process.

“If someone knocks on your door or they approach you, you have the right to ask for identification,” Vang points out. “You have the right to ask for a badge number or to ask if they have a warrant signed by a federal judge. So many of our communities don’t know that so even the educational component is so critical.”

She adds, “Oftentimes, it is the community taking care of the community.”  

Even with the support of the city, Sofia still lives with fear for not only herself, but her family.

“I fear a lot for my mom, she doesn’t speak English,” she admits. “She just got her driver’s license after 30 years and she’s too scared to drive. She loves her kids – her sons are citizens. And I would hate for her to be deported, because she loves us and her grandkids, too. If she had to leave, I would have to leave too because who am I without my mom?”

Although Sacramento is a designated sanctuary city, government attorneys and local police say that federal agencies do not notify them before entering the jurisdiction. Still, the Sacramento Police Department has asserted that it will not be using any of its resources to assist ICE officers with deportations.  

Despite that, Vang understands that there’s a lot mistrust and worry about the topic. She also understand this has very real consequences for local neighborhoods.

“One thing I have heard from the community is that because of what we’re seeing in our city and across the country, more and more of our family members and immigrant community are afraid to call 911,” Vang lamented. “When you have the federal administration weaponizing law enforcement, it actually undermines the work we’re doing at the local level for public safety.”

A recent survey showed at least 40% of Latinos were less likely to provide information to the police because they were afraid to expose themselves or their family to deportation.

Another study found that when local police collaborate closely with ICE, undocumented immigrants are significantly less likely to report crimes, undermining overall public safety.

The opposition many Sacramentans have to Trump’s deportations could be clearly seen at the “No Kings Rally” June 14, held on the grounds of the Capitol.

Kit Bear was one demonstrator who shared frustrations about ICE being present in our state’s sanctuary cities.

“The California immigrant community means the world to me and everybody around me,” Bear emphasized. “One-in-six kids in California has an undocumented parent. So, we’re talking about one-in-six of all of our children facing the fear everyday of their parents and their grandparents being deported and losing their access to them.”

Bear also has frustrations about the current path to citizenship being convoluted and inaccessible – and lately seemingly like a trap.

“They are calling people in for their immigration hearings and then dismissing the case and kidnapping them on the steps,” Bear observed.

Sofia does hope to gain citizenship one day, though she also remains skeptical of the current immigration system. Although she has all the required paperwork to qualify as a Dreamer, Sofia hesitated when the process asked for information about her family.

“I was afraid to put my mom down because she had already been deported once,” Sofia mentions. “So, I never followed through out of the fear of putting my mom in danger.”

Sofia continues to live her life in Sacramento as a working and contributing member of the community, and one who’s caring for people around her while navigating a system that still sees her as an outsider.

In a political climate where immigration has become weaponized, stories like Sofia’s are just one example of how sanctuary city policies intersect with the lives of real people. While Sacramento’s sanctuary designation offer some reassurance, it doesn’t eliminate the blanket of uncertainty.

“We’re literally just here trying to make a better living for ourselves and we’re not taking anything from anyone,” Sofia says. “We’re not taking jobs, we’re not criminals. I’ve never committed a crime in my life, and I’ve been here 30 years. I would like them to see us for who we truly are, which is honest, hardworking people. If they’re so opposed to criminals, why is there one running the country?”