Trump’s Hardline Immigration Policies Cast a Shadow on Chicago’s Sanctuary Communities
"Know Your Rights!"
Flyers adorned with these words have been appearing on lampposts in Chicago’s Little Village neighborhood, instructing residents on their rights should U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents come knocking: No entry without a warrant. Keep silent. Record the encounter. Sign nothing.
The neighborhood is the heart of the Illinois city’s sprawling Mexican-American community. While large-scale raids have yet to materialize, fear has permeated places like this since the inauguration of President Donald Trump. Many worry that the administration is merely biding its time, preparing for the mass deportations promised during the campaign. In the interim, the White House has staged high-profile, individual apprehensions.
One undocumented vendor, requesting anonymity, has lived in Chicago for 37 years. She has four children, seven grandchildren – and a daily dread of being stopped by ICE on her commute to work. Many of her customers share her anxiety, she says. Those who can afford to are staying home for the time being.
An estimated 11 million people like her live in the U.S. without legal status. Many perform essential jobs in agriculture or hospitality, and they pay taxes. A bureaucratic quirk has made this possible. While previous administrations also deported undocumented immigrants, the focus was typically on convicted criminals.
Trump has taken a more hardline approach, branding immigrants from poorer countries as criminals by default. His administration argues that unauthorized presence alone places individuals in this category and warrants swift removal. Upon taking office, Trump directed ICE to conduct raids even in schools, hospitals, and churches – a dramatic departure from longstanding practice.
"Sanctuary cities" – localities that refuse to cooperate with ICE in various ways – are a particular thorn in his side. Chicago has maintained such a policy since the 1980s, declining, for example, to share immigration-related data with ICE. The rationale is that people who fear deportation will be less likely to report crimes to law enforcement, potentially undermining public safety.
In a defiant response to Trump’s second term, Chicago has launched a citywide information campaign educating affected residents about their rights – not just in neighborhoods like Little Village, but across the municipality, on screens in buses and trains.
Tom Homan, the man tasked with carrying out Trump’s deportation agenda, has expressed visible irritation at this effort. Chicago is "well trained," he said on CNN in late January. Shortly after, the Justice Department sued the city, accusing it of obstructing federal law enforcement. Illinois and New York also became targets. Chicago Mayor Brandon Johnson vowed that the city would not abandon its values.
At the entrance to Augustana Lutheran Church on Chicago’s South Side, those values are spelled out: "Sanctuary for All." Without a warrant, ICE need not bother trying to enter. For pastor Nancy Goede, this is a matter of faith.
Conservatives in the U.S. have weaponized religion for political purposes, framing the world as a zero-sum game, she says. Christianity, however, teaches that there is more for everyone if people are not turned against one another.
The church is home to the Hyde Park Refugee Project. Founder Dorothy Pytel was inspired after reading about a refugee project in Bavaria during a visit to her sister-in-law in Germany. Her initial goal was to help a handful of families integrate sustainably.
But in 2023, with the end of pandemic restrictions, the number of migrants surged, and the long-term vision suddenly became an urgent relief effort. Shelters were overwhelmed, and people were stranded outside police stations. The community responded, Pytel says. Volunteers organized themselves on WhatsApp and pitched in wherever they could.
The reception, however, was not universally welcoming. Tensions arose, especially in poorer neighborhoods. "There was real resentment," Pytel recalls. This, she believes, was less a manifestation of hostility than a product of deeply seated frustrations. Some longtime residents feel forgotten by policymakers. It remains a point of friction, even as the city has improved certain processes.
Pastor Jonathan knows these conflicts well. He requests that his last name and the name of the church where he runs a "Free Store" – a weekly gathering point for free clothing and household goods – remain anonymous. Every Thursday, dozens of people come to his basement.
Besides material donations, the pastor and his team of volunteers offer practical assistance, such as help with asylum applications. Many of his clients, as he calls them, hail from Colombia, Mexico, the Congo, and Sierra Leone. He was particularly touched by the plight of a young couple from Venezuela who temporarily stayed with him. Their baby died during their perilous northward journey.
The Free Store is a space where people from many different backgrounds find support, Jonathan says. Many locals also make use of the services. Bridges are being built: One neighborhood woman came initially as a customer, then as a volunteer. Now she works the front desk, forging friendships with the predominantly Latin American women new to the city.
With Trump’s return to power, a climate of uncertainty has settled in – even among those who, logically, have no reason to worry. "Should we keep the store open? How can we protect our people?" Jonathan wondered. It quickly became clear: "We are not being paralyzed by fear." On the first Thursday after the Republican’s inauguration, the store was as full as ever.
Some changes have been made: The church door now routinely stays locked. Should ICE knock, volunteers know what to do. But to the pastor, something else is paramount. "People are having coffee, learning English, bringing their kids, looking for clothes and things for their home. All of this has value," he says. "Especially now, you need to stick to your values. It helps to be surrounded by people who feel the same."
