The lawsuit — filed by the American Civil Liberties Union and others on behalf of Las Americas Immigrant Advocacy Center and RAICES — is the first test of the legality of Biden’s sweeping crackdown on the border, which came after months of internal White House deliberations and is designed in part to deflect political attacks against the president on his handling of immigration.

“By enacting an asylum ban that is legally indistinguishable from the Trump ban we successfully blocked, we were left with no choice but to file this lawsuit,” said Lee Gelernt, an attorney for the ACLU.

The order Biden issued last week would limit asylum processing once encounters with migrants between ports of entry reach 2,500 per day. It went into effect immediately because the latest figures were far higher, at about 4,000 daily.

The restrictions would be in effect until two weeks after the daily encounter numbers are at or below 1,500 per day between ports of entry, under a seven-day average. But it’s far from clear when the numbers would dip that low; the last time was in July 2020 during the COVID-19 pandemic.

The order went into effect June 5, and Biden administration officials have said they expected record levels of deportations.

But advocates argue that suspending asylum for migrants who don’t arrive at a designated port of entry — which the Biden administration is trying to push migrants to do —- violates existing federal immigration law, among other concerns.

Biden invoked the same legal authority used by the Trump administration for its asylum ban, which comes under Section 212(f) of the Immigration and Nationality Act. That provision allows a president to limit entries for certain migrants if their entry is deemed “detrimental” to the national interest.

Biden has repeatedly criticized Trump’s immigration policies as he campaigns, and his administration argues that his directive is different because it includes several exemptions for humanitarian reasons. For example, victims of human trafficking, unaccompanied minors and those with severe medical emergencies would not be subject to the limits.

“We stand by the legality of what we have done,” Homeland Security Secretary Alejandro Mayorkas said on ABC’s “This Week” before the lawsuit was filed, saying he anticipated legal challenges. “We stand by the value proposition.”

Under Biden’s directive, migrants who arrive at the border but do not express a fear of returning to their home countries will be subject to immediate removal from the United States, within a matter of days or even hours. Those migrants could face punishments that could include a five-year bar from reentering the U.S. or even criminal prosecution.

Meanwhile, those who express fear or an intention to seek asylum will be screened by a U.S. asylum officer but at a higher standard than currently used. If they pass the screening, they can pursue more limited forms of humanitarian protection, including the U.N. Convention Against Torture, which prohibits returning people to a country where they’re likely to face torture.

About 43,330 asylum-seekers have arrived in Chicago since Texas Gov. Greg Abbott began sending them from the southern border in August 2022, according to a city census conducted daily. The city has at times struggled to house and keep up with the needs of the arriving people, but on Tuesday, officials had an unequivocal welcoming message.

“You are our neighbors now,” Johnson said to a crowd of volunteers, migrants and elected officials. “I know that your journey here has been long and difficult, but today we welcome you.”

Originally scheduled to open in April, the shelter faced delays and pushback from community members. On Tuesday, leaders officially opened the facility to about 300 people yet to arrive from the city landing zone.

Unlike the other 17 city and state-run shelters currently housing hundreds of asylum-seekers, the nonprofit Zakat Foundation of America is assuming the costs — partnering with the city, county and Archdiocese of Chicago. Zakat President Halil Demir said about 50 people were staying in the former convent on the campus of St. Bartholomew Catholic Church while renovations on the shelter building itself wrapped up.

He enthusiastically welcomed migrants gathered in the sanctuary Tuesday night, urging them to join in on the city life. “Chicago is a hardworking city, Chicago is a great place to be,” he said. “Chicago needs you.”

St. Bartholomew pastor, the Rev. Michael O’Connell said shelter plans had been developing since late 2023. Zakat Foundation will administer the shelter’s staffing, social services and other logistics and work with Chicago Public Schools to enroll children in school, according to a news release from the organization.

The shelter will only house migrants, officials said. City and state officials announced in April that the city would consolidate its shelters for newly-arrived migrants and American-born homeless people into one system.

State Rep. Lindsey LaPointe, D-Chicago, applauded the opening of the shelter in a statement before calling on local and state leaders to funnel further aid to U.S.-born homeless people. Anti-homelessness advocates have praised the idea of a unified shelter system as a way to curb competition for limited affordable housing resources among the migrant and homeless populations.

At a reception for families and officials, LaPointe said she eventually hoped to “see a strong shelter and service system for anyone experiencing homelessness” but said the facility about to open was a step in the right direction.

The area has needed shelter services for some time, she said: “It’s a marker of the progress we have made and and need to continue to make.”

Deacon Jaime Rios said he’d been working with arriving migrants through the Our Lady of the Rosary Parish, which covers St. Bartholomew and another nearby church, since last year. Some of the earlier migrants to arrive have apartments and jobs now, he said.

Daniela Diaz and Franger Bermudes, with Rios translating, said they’d arrived in Chicago from Texas last month with their 6-year-old son.

“In Texas we were nervous,” said Diaz, 28, adding that they felt much safer in Chicago. “We are OK now, but we want to be better.”

Rios said he urged the families he’s worked with to keep their faith in the American Dream.

“The dream is true,” he said. “But you have to be patient.”

Chicago Tribune’s Nell Salzman contributed. 

Yeneska García’s face crumbled as she said it, and she pressed her head into her hands.

Since fleeing crisis in Venezuela in January, the 23-year-old had trekked through the Darien Gap jungle dividing Colombia and Panama, narrowly survived being kidnapped by a Mexican cartel and waited months for an asylum appointment with the United States that never came. She finally crossed the U.S.-Mexico border in May, only to have American authorities expel her.

Now she was back in southern Mexico, after Mexican immigration bused her to sweltering Villahermosa and dropped her on the street.

“I would rather cross the Darien Gap 10,000 times than cross Mexico,” García said, sitting in a migrant shelter.

She clutched a crinkled Ziploc bag that held her Venezuelan ID, an inhaler and an apple — her few remaining possessions.

Driven by mounting pressure from the U.S. to block millions of vulnerable people headed north, but lacking the funds to deport them, Mexican authorities are employing a simple but harsh tactic: wearing migrants out until they give up.

That means migrants are churning in limbo here as authorities round them up across the country and dump them in the southern Mexican cities of Villahermosa and Tapachula. Some have been punted back as many as six times.

Mexican President Andrés Manuel López Obrador said Monday that the policy protects migrants.

“We care a lot … about keeping migrants in the southeast because crossing to the north is very risky,” López Obrador said, responding to a question from The Associated Press during his daily briefing.

But the moves have forced migrants, including pregnant women and children, into even more precarious situations. That’s likely to worsen under President Joe Biden’s new asylum restrictions, analysts say.

Mexico’s actions explain a plunge in arrivals to the U.S.-Mexico border, which dropped 40% from an all-time high in December and persisted through the spring. That coincided with an increase in migrants in Mexico without legal permission, data from the country’s immigration agency shows. U.S. officials mostly credit Mexican vigilance around rail yards and highway checkpoints.

“Mexico is the wall,” said Josue Martínez, a psychologist at Villahermosa’s only migrant shelter, Peace Oasis of the Holy Spirit Amparito, which was was bracing for a crush of people under Biden’s measure to halt asylum processing when U.S. officials deem that the southern border is overwhelmed.

The small shelter has been scrambling since Mexico’s government began pushing people back two years ago. Last month, it housed 528 people, up from 85 in May 2022.

“What will we do when even more people arrive?” Martínez said. “Every time the United States does something to reinforce the northern border, we automatically know tons of people are coming to Villahermosa.”

Migrants here walk or take buses north toward Mexico City, where they can request an appointment to seek asylum over U.S. Customs and Border Protection’s app, CBP One. But most never make it far enough north for the app’s location requirement.

Checkpoints dot southern Mexican highways. Armed soldiers pull migrants off buses and round up those walking along roads and in surrounding mountains. Of two dozen migrants interviewed by the AP, all said they were extorted by law enforcement or Mexican migration officials to continue on their journeys. After dishing out hefty sums two or three times, families had nothing. They were then bused back south, where most are left on the streets.

Mexican authorities refer to the temporary detentions as “humanitarian rescues.”

But Venezuelan Keilly Bolaños say there is nothing human about them. She and her four children have been sent to southern Mexico six times. The 25-year-old single mother wants asylum so her 4-year-old daughter can get treatment for leukemia, unavailable to her in Venezuela.

Days earlier, she was captured in the northern state of Chihuahua, where she said members of the military beat her in front of her crying children, then loaded them onto a bus for the two-day journey to Villahermosa.

“How can you run when you have four children? You can’t,” Bolaños said.

The family slept on cardboard boxes alongside other migrants outside Villahermosa’s bus terminal. Bruises still lined Bolaños’ legs. Yet she planned to take a seventh swing at heading north. She has nowhere else to go.

“I know that all this struggling will be worth it some day,” she added.

Mexico’s tactics appear to be a way to appease the U.S., which has pressured Latin American nations to help slow migration while failing to overhaul its own immigration system that most Americans agree is broken. Panama’s incoming president has promised to block passage through the Darien Gap, while Biden eased criticisms of El Salvador’s president after he reduced migration.

When Biden announced his new restrictions last week, he said he “drastically” cut migration to the border “due to the arrangement that I’ve reached with President (López) Obrador.” He said he also planned to work with incoming President Claudia Sheinbaum on border issues.

But Michael Shifter, a senior fellow at the Inter-American Dialogue, said such measures are only a short-term solution that don’t address root causes of migration.

“They say this is a regional challenge we all have to face together, which is true,” Shifter said. “The problem is: if the U.S. can’t get its own house in order, that sends a signal to other governments asking: ‘Why should we work with them if the U.S. itself is not capable of dealing with the issue?’”

Some asylum seekers said they were ready to give up on their “American dream,” but can’t leave because they’re cut off from their consulate or are out of money.

After being taken off of a bus, one group of migrants begged authorities to help them get back to Venezuela shortly before being sent back south.

“We just want to go to the embassy in Mexico City. To go back to Venezuela,” 30-year-old Fabiana Bellizar told officials, after being returned from northern Mexico a day earlier. “We don’t want to be here anymore.”

They started traveling the same route the next morning.

Others said they would try to find work and a place to sleep in the city before continuing on.

López Obrador on Monday said work is offered to migrants in the south, but the few lucky people face precarious conditions. One migrant was paid $25 a day for 12 hours of work under the beating sun on a mango farm. Another said employers tried to coerce her into sex work.

Others are forced to take more dangerous routes, and into the arms of mafias looking to kidnap migrants.

At the first sign of flashing lights, 27-year-old Honduran Alexander Amador dove behind a tree, scrambling for cover in the shadows cloaking the road between the Mexican states of Veracruz and Tabasco.

Amador and his two travel companions had been walking for 10 hours, running into the jungle to escape authorities trying to scoop them up along the highway. After being returned twice to southern Mexico while traveling by bus, it was the only thing the Hondurans could think of to continue onward.

But they were frightened, both of Mexican law enforcement and cartels. In the past year, security in southern Mexican states such as Tabasco and Chiapas has spiraled as cartels battle for control over lucrative migrant routes.

“Here, you can’t trust anyone. Everything is a danger to you,” Amador said, swinging his backpack over his shoulder and walking into the darkness.

Durante casi seis meses, marido y mujer de un pueblo rural ecuatoriano habían luchado por encontrar trabajo en Chicago. Habían ido a clínicas y mendigado frente a tiendas de comestibles.

Pero entonces, la madre de 36 años encontró un terapeuta que la ayudó a aliviar su trauma y obtener la documentación adecuada para trabajar legalmente. Cuando le ofrecieron un trabajo empacando frutas y verduras en Mariano’s en Lakeview, su esposo le dijo que estaba feliz de que ella trabajara. Pero el hombre de 37 años todavía no había encontrado trabajo. El estrés estaba pasando factura.

El 25 de mayo, mientras Juma trabajaba dentro de la tienda, su esposo mendigaba afuera con el hijo de 15 años, la hija de 19 y el nieto de 6 meses de la pareja. Un poco antes de las 8:30 a.m., les dijo a los adolescentes que iba a comprar unos zapatos nuevos. Luego se fue y nunca volvió.

“Era como algo normal. Todo fue normal, pero nunca volvimos a saber de él”, dijo Juma.

Desde su desaparición, Juma ha pasado semanas aturdida y conteniendo las lágrimas. Ella caminó por la orilla del lago, llamándolo por su nombre: Angel Mashiant. Presentó una denuncia de persona desaparecida y se acercó a los coches de policía para pedir ayuda.

Pero recibe respuestas de la policía y no sabe qué hacer.

Aunque no está claro qué pasó con el marido de Juma, la madre inmigrante representa un fenómeno común entre los recién llegados: después de viajar miles de kilómetros para llegar a Estados Unidos, algunos hombres inmigrantes aparentemente abandonan o desaparecen de las vidas de sus parejas e hijos, dejando que se las arreglen por sí mismos.

Mientras más de 43,000 inmigrantes han pasado por Chicago, enviados en autobuses y aviones desde la frontera sur desde agosto de 2022, se pueden encontrar cientos de madres solteras con hijos alojadas en los 17 refugios gestionados por la ciudad y el estado. No está claro cuántos llegaron con pareja.

Las mujeres que quedaron ahora están tratando de encontrar trabajo mientras crían a sus hijos, todo ello sin la ayuda de sus parejas.

Los terapeutas autorizados y quienes trabajan estrechamente con inmigrantes dicen que la frustración y la vergüenza que sienten los hombres por no poder mantener a sus familias puede ser un factor en su decisión de simplemente marcharse.

“Vemos casos como ese”, dijo Ana Gil-García, fundadora de la Alianza Venezolana de Illinois, quien ha dirigido sesiones informativas para inmigrantes en docenas de refugios en toda la ciudad. “Cuando los hombres no pueden proveer, deciden irse. No asumen la responsabilidad y luego mamá se queda con los niños”.

‘No sé si podré establecerme aquí solo’

Nareida Santana, de 37 años, de Cartagena, Colombia, se paró afuera de un refugio para inmigrantes en West Loop el martes y contó cómo ella y su pareja viajaron durante días a través de seis países para llegar a Chicago a fines de abril.

Hace unas dos semanas, dijo, él se fue repentinamente. Ella no sabe adónde fue. Ella movía su cuerpo hacia adelante y hacia atrás mientras hablaba.

Tiene un niño de 7 años y ahora tiene que hacer todo sola. Las tareas se acumulan: inscribirlo en la escuela, moverse en transporte público, encontrar trabajo y vivienda.

“Estoy muy asustada”, dijo. “No sé si podré establecerme aquí sola”.

Santana dijo que sabe que hay mujeres cuyos maridos las han abandonado y que están en peor situación que ella, que están embarazadas o tienen necesidades de salud importantes.

Dijo que los trabajadores del refugio le están dando orientación sobre cómo presentarse a entrevistas de trabajo, pero que será inútil hasta que obtenga un permiso de trabajo válido.

Por ahora, está tratando incansablemente de encontrar trabajo para poder salir del refugio.

“Es imposible descansar mucho allí”, dijo, señalando el almacén de ladrillo que alberga a más de 700 inmigrantes en cinco pisos.

Verónica Sánchez, trabajadora social autorizada, dirigió esta primavera una serie de círculos de sanación para inmigrantes en la Parent University de Pilsen a través de un esfuerzo organizado por el grupo de ayuda mutua Southwest Collective. Sánchez dijo que los inmigrantes hablaban abiertamente sobre la tendencia de los hombres a dejar a sus esposas.

Mientras los voluntarios proporcionaban comidas calientes y cuidaban a los niños en una habitación separada, los solicitantes de asilo adultos participaban en terapias grupales, con temas que iban desde la ansiedad y la depresión hasta los roles tradicionales de género. Sánchez dijo que muchos han estado tan concentrados en satisfacer sus necesidades básicas que no han tenido tiempo para pensar en su salud mental.

En algunos casos, dijo, esto lleva a separaciones de último momento.

“Al principio hablamos un poco sobre la depresión”, dijo Sánchez. “Les dije que íbamos a hablar muy abiertamente sobre cualquier tristeza que pudieran sentir”.

En una sesión grupal a mediados de mayo, Sánchez dirigió una discusión sobre lo que constituye una relación sana.

“He visto parejas que llevan muchos años juntas y llegan aquí y eso cambia todo”, dijo una mujer de Venezuela cuyo nombre no se revela por cuestiones de privacidad. “Sé que es difícil aquí, pero ¿cómo es posible que no recuerden todo lo que han pasado?”

‘No es mi sueño americano’

La ciudad no pudo facilitar inmediatamente el número actual de mujeres inmigrantes solas con hijos en sus albergues, aunque sí hace un seguimiento de la composición familiar en el sistema de albergues.

Los responsables municipales afirman que los gestores de casos remiten a las residentes de los refugios a organizaciones sin ánimo de lucro para que reciban apoyo en salud mental. Además, la ciudad forma a cientos de empleados de los albergues sobre cómo ayudar a las mujeres que pueden sufrir violencia de género, incluida la violencia doméstica.

“El alcalde Johnson cree que todos los habitantes de Chicago merecen atención sanitaria mental y conductual, tanto si acaban de llegar como si llevan aquí generaciones”, dijo un portavoz municipal en un comunicado.

Yoleida Ramírez, madre soltera de 42 años de Caracas (Venezuela), que se aloja en el mismo albergue que Juma en el Lower West Side, dijo que ha buscado y solicitado trabajo estable en Chicago desde noviembre, pero no ha encontrado nada.

Ella y sus tres hijas pequeñas ingresaron en un centro de acogida en diciembre, y hace poco el personal le dijo a Ramírez que tiene que encontrar su propia vivienda antes del 23 de junio. Le preocupa no poder hacerlo.

“Es muy difícil”, dice entre lágrimas. “He buscado y buscado, pero no encuentro trabajo”.

Después de dejar a sus hijos en el colegio a las 7 a.m., va a Home Depot y reza para encontrar trabajo pintando o limpiando.

Se marchó de su país porque allí tampoco encontraba trabajo, dice. No tenía dinero suficiente para comprar comida a sus hijos.

“Había oído hablar del sueño americano, pero este no es mi sueño”, afirma.

La desaparición

La última mañana que Juma vio a su marido, dijo que se despertaron temprano en el refugio y él se burló de ella diciéndole que iba a llegar tarde a su turno de trabajo en Mariano’s. Ella se puso un delantal y él le pasó un par de calcetines y 2 dólares para el autobús. Ella se puso un delantal y él le pasó un par de calcetines y 2 dólares para el autobús, dijo.

Mashiant mendigaba fuera de Mariano’s con su familia mientras Juma trabajaba dentro. Les dijo a sus hijos que esperaran mientras él compraba zapatos nuevos. Se puso la capucha y pasó junto a los contenedores. No se le ha visto desde entonces.

Cuando Juma regresó de su turno, ella y sus hijos esperaron. Él siempre regresaba, dijo. Pero pasaron las horas y no había rastro de él. Al día siguiente ella presentó una denuncia a la policía.

Semanas después, la falta de un cierre es doloroso para Juma. Ella sigue negando que se haya ido.

Ha tenido problemas para confirmar que la policía haya procesado su informe de persona desaparecida porque cuando llama para comprobarlo, las personas que responden sólo hablan inglés. Ella cree que han dejado de buscar a Mashiant.

Un portavoz del Departamento de Policía de Chicago dijo al Tribune en un comunicado que “el informe no ha sido cerrado en este momento. No tenemos acceso a la mayoría de las denuncias de personas desaparecidas porque están redactadas en papel”.

Juma dijo que el refugio le dijo el 2 de junio que debido a que Mashiant había desaparecido, ella perdería su lugar en el sistema. Desde entonces lo rescindieron, dijo, pero Juma llora cuando habla de ello.

“Me dijeron que le iban a quitar el catre”, dijo.

Ella ha hecho todo lo posible para buscarlo. Puso carteles en las farolas cerca del supermercado. Obtuvo imágenes de video de un negocio cercano, que lo muestran moviendo los brazos y mirando algo a lo lejos mientras camina por el callejón.

Pero ella no tiene respuestas. No puede hablar de él sin llorar. Se pregunta si habrá intentado ahogarse en el lago. Ella deambula por la orilla buscando señales de su cuerpo flotante.

‘No estaba en su sano juicio’

Como muchos inmigrantes que han llegado a la ciudad para escapar de la pobreza y la violencia en América Latina, Juma y su familia no conocen a nadie en Chicago. La transición fue difícil, dijo, y han recibido reacciones violentas por mendigar.

“Hubo un hombre que nos arrojó comida y dijo que esperaba que ganara Trump para que nos deportaran a nuestro país”, dijo.

Juma dijo que su familia abandonó su pequeña comunidad agrícola en Ecuador a finales de septiembre después de que sus hijos de 19 y 15 años enfrentaran actos consecutivos de violencia de pandillas.

Su familia recibió llamadas cada vez más amenazantes, por lo que decidieron abandonar Ecuador. Llegaron a Chicago en diciembre. En el camino hacia aquí, ella, su esposo y su hijo fueron secuestrados en México durante cinco días, dijo.

Antes de que su esposo desapareciera, Juma había desentrañado su difícil pasado con Erika Meza, una maestra trabajadora social autorizada de Onward House en Belmont Cragin que dirige sesiones de terapia grupal con inmigrantes. Meza dijo que tiene una relación especialmente estrecha con Juma.

Durante meses, dijo Meza, la madre ecuatoriana había expresado ansiedad por no tener un ingreso estable. Los funcionarios del refugio amenazaron con desalojarlos del refugio donde se aloja actualmente Juma.

Meza dijo que ayudó a la pareja a presentar sus trámites para trabajar legalmente en los Estados Unidos, pero Mashiant todavía estaba solicitando empleo.

“El estaba empezando a ponerse muy triste al quedarse en el refugio”, dijo Meza.

Juma le dijo a su marido que también fuera a terapia de grupo porque, según ella, la ayudaba a comprender y afrontar su depresión, pero él no había ido.

Meza sospecha que Mashiant se fue en un momento de pánico.

“Creo que no estaba en su sano juicio”, dijo. “La depresión y la ansiedad pueden llevarte a hacer cosas que nunca podrías imaginar”.

Sigue buscando

El marido de Juma era un hombre tranquilo que creció en la selva de Ecuador. No sabía leer ni escribir.

Otras mujeres en el refugio dicen que debe haberse ido con otra mujer, pero Juma dice que sabe que eso no es cierto porque él no conoce a nadie aquí.

“Lo único que necesito es que aparezca para poder pagar un lugar al que ir. Esos eran nuestros planes. Planeábamos trabajar para pagarnos un lugar donde vivir”, dijo.

Como muchas otras, Juma ahora debe hacer todo sola. Tiene que trabajar y recoger a su hijo del colegio.

El miércoles por la mañana, una mujer que limpia las calles afuera de Mariano’s le dijo a Juma que podía tomar el autobús hacia el oeste hasta la última parada donde había un lago.

Juma subió a su nieto en un carrito al autobús de la CTA. Lo condujo hasta la última parada, desmontó y miró a su alrededor.

“¿Hay un lago cerca de aquí?” dijo ella, confundida.

Estaba a 5 millas del Lago Michigan. Poco a poco la realidad se fue imponiendo. Su rostro se hundió decepcionada.

Esperó en la parada del autobús para volver al Mariano’s donde desapareció su marido.

— Traducción por José Luis Sánchez Pando / TCA

For nearly six months, the husband and wife from a rural Ecuadorian town had struggled to find jobs in Chicago. They had gone to clinics and panhandled in front of grocery stores.

But then, the 36-year-old mother found a therapist, who helped soothe her trauma and obtain the right paperwork to work legally. When she was offered a job packing fruits and vegetables at Mariano’s in Lakeview, her husband told her he was happy she was working. But the 37-year-old still hadn’t found a job himself. The stress was taking a toll.

Mujer inmigrante busca a su marido desaparecido, algo común cuando los hombres luchan por encontrar trabajo

On May 25, as Juma worked inside the store, her husband panhandled outside with the couple’s 15-year-old son, 19-year-old daughter and 6-month-old grandchild. A little before 8:30 a.m., he told the teens he was going to buy some new shoes. Then he left and never came back.

“It was like normal. Everything was normal, but we never heard from him again,” Juma said.

Since his disappearance, Juma has spent weeks in a daze, holding back tears. She’s walked along the lakefront, calling his name — Angel Mashiant. She’s filed a missing person’s report and approached police cars to ask for help.

She’s gotten no answers from police and doesn’t know what to do.

Though it’s uncertain what happened to Juma’s husband, the migrant mother represents a common phenomenon for new arrivals: After traveling thousands of miles to make it to the U.S., some migrant men seemingly walk out or vanish from the lives of their partners and children, leaving them to fend for themselves.

As more than 43,000 migrants have passed through Chicago, sent on buses and planes from the southern border since August 2022, hundreds of single mothers with children can be found staying in the 17 shelters run by the city and state. It’s unclear how many had arrived with partners. 

The women who have been left are now trying to find work while raising their children — all without the help of their partners.

Licensed therapists and those working closely with migrants say the frustration and shame felt by men of not being able to provide for their families may be a factor in their choice to just walk away.

“We see cases like that,” said Ana Gil-Garcia, founder of the Illinois Venezuelan Alliance, who has led informational sessions for migrants at dozens of shelters across the city. “When men can’t provide, they decide to leave. They don’t take responsibility — and then mom is left with the children.”

‘I don’t know if I’ll be able to establish myself here alone’

Nareida Santana, 37, from Cartagena, Colombia, stood outside a migrant shelter in the West Loop Tuesday and recounted how she and her partner traveled for days across six countries to reach Chicago at the end of April. 

About two weeks ago, she said, he suddenly left. She doesn’t know where he went. She shifted her weight back and forth as she talked. 

She has a 7-year-old boy and now has to do everything alone. The tasks stack up: enrolling him in school, navigating public transit, finding work and housing.

“I’m so scared,” she said. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to establish myself here alone.”

Santana said she knows there are women whose husbands have left them who are in worse situations than she is, who are pregnant or have significant health needs.

She said shelter workers are giving her guidance on how to interview for jobs, but it will be useless until she gets a valid work permit.

For now, she’s tirelessly trying to find work so she can move out of the shelter. 

“It’s impossible to rest much in there,” she said, gesturing to the brick warehouse sheltering over 700 migrants on five floors.

Veronica Sanchez, a licensed social worker, led a series of healing circles for migrants at the Parent University in Pilsen this spring through an effort organized by the mutual aid group Southwest Collective. Sanchez said migrants talked openly about the trend of men leaving their wives.

As volunteers supplied hot meals and child care in a separate room, adult asylum-seekers engaged in group therapies, with topics ranging from anxiety and depression to traditional gender roles. Sanchez said many have been so focused on getting their basic needs met they haven’t had the time to think about their mental health.

In some cases, she said, this leads to last-minute separations.

“We discussed a little bit about depression at the beginning,” Sanchez said. “I told them we were going to talk very openly about any sadness they might be feeling.” 

At a group session in mid-May, Sanchez led a discussion about what constitutes a healthy relationship.

“I’ve seen couples that have been together for many years, and they arrive here and it changes everything,” said a woman from Venezuela whose name is not being used out of privacy concerns. “I know it’s hard here, but how can they not remember everything they’ve been through?”

‘Not my American dream’

The city couldn’t immediately provide the current number of single migrant women with children in its shelters, though it does track family composition in the shelter system.

City officials said case managers refer shelter residents to nonprofits for mental health support. Additionally, the city trains hundreds of shelter staff on how to provide support for women who may experience gender-based violence, including domestic violence.

“Mayor Johnson believes that all Chicagoans deserve mental and behavioral healthcare, whether they just arrived or they have been here for generations,” a city spokesperson said in a statement.

Yoleida Ramirez, a 42-year-old single mother from Caracas, Venezuela, who is staying at the same shelter as Juma on the Lower West Side, said she has searched and applied for stable work in Chicago since November but hasn’t found anything.

She and her three little girls were placed in a shelter in December, and the staff recently told Ramirez that she needs to find her own housing by June 23. She’s worried she won’t be able to. 

“It’s so difficult,” she said, through tears. “I’ve looked and looked, but can’t find a job.”

After she drops her kids off at school at 7 a.m., she goes to Home Depot and prays she can find work painting or cleaning.

She left her home country because she couldn’t find work there either, she said. She didn’t have enough money to buy her children food.

“I’d heard about the American dream, but this is not my dream,” she said.

The disappearance

The last morning Juma saw her husband, she said they woke up early in the shelter and he teased her that she was going to be late for her work shift at Mariano’s. She put on an apron and he passed her a pair of socks and $2 for the bus, she said.

Mashiant panhandled outside Mariano’s with their family while Juma worked inside. He told his kids to wait while he got new shoes. He put his hood up and walked past the dumpsters. He hasn’t been seen since.

When Juma got back from her shift, she and her children waited. He always came back, she said. But hours passed and there was no sign of him. She filed a police report the next day.

Weeks later, the lack of closure is painful for Juma. She’s still in denial that he’s gone.

She’s had trouble confirming that police have processed her missing person report because when she calls to check on it, the people who answer only speak English. She thinks they’ve given up searching for Mashiant.

A spokesman for the Chicago Police Department told the Tribune in a statement that, “The report has not been finalized at this time. We do not have access to most missing persons reports because they are done on paper.”

Juma said the shelter told her on June 2 that because Mashiant had disappeared, she would lose her place in the system. They’ve since rescinded that, she said, but Juma cries when she talks about it.

“They told me they were going to take his cot away,” she said.

She’s done everything she can to look for him. She put posters on lamps near the grocery store. She obtained video footage from a nearby business, which shows him swinging his arms and eyeing something in the distance as he walks through the alley.

But she has no answers. She can’t talk about him without crying. She wonders if he may have tried to drown himself in the lake. She wanders along the shore looking for signs of his floating body.

‘He wasn’t in his right mind’

Like many migrants who have come to the city to escape poverty and violence in Latin America, Juma and her family don’t know anyone in Chicago. The transition was difficult, she said, and they’ve received backlash for panhandling.

“There was a man who threw food at us, and said he hoped Trump won so we would be deported to our country,” she said.

Juma said their family left their small agricultural community in Ecuador in late September after her 19-year-old and 15-year-old faced back-to-back acts of gang violence. 

Their family received increasingly threatening calls, so they decided to leave Ecuador. They arrived in Chicago in December. On the way here, she and her husband and son were kidnapped in Mexico for five days, she said.

Before her husband went missing, Juma had unpacked her difficult past with Erika Meza, a licensed master social worker with Onward House in Belmont Cragin who leads group therapy sessions with migrants. Meza said she has an especially close relationship with Juma.

For months, Meza said, the Ecuadorian mother had expressed anxiety over not having a stable income. Shelter officials were threatening to evict them from the shelter where Juma is currently staying.

Meza said she helped the couple submit their paperwork to work legally in the United States, but Mashiant was still applying for jobs. 

“He was beginning to get really sad, staying at the shelter,” Meza said.

Juma told her husband to go to group therapy, too, because she said it helped her to understand and cope with her depression, but he hadn’t gone.

Meza suspects Mashiant left in a moment of panic.

“I think he wasn’t in his right mind,” she said. “Depression and anxiety can bring you to do things you could never imagine.”

Still searching

Juma’s husband was a quiet man who grew up in the jungle in Ecuador. He couldn’t read and write.

Other women at the shelter say he must have left with another woman, but Juma says she knows that’s not true because he doesn’t know anybody here. 

“The only thing I need is for him to appear so I can pay for a place for us to go. Those were our plans. We planned to work, to pay for a place for us to live,” she said.

Like many others, Juma is now left to do everything alone. She has to work and pick up her son from school.

Wednesday morning, a woman who cleans the streets outside Mariano’s told Juma that she could take the bus west to the last stop where there was a lake.

Juma loaded her grandchild in a carriage up onto the CTA bus. She rode it to the last stop, dismounted and looked around.

“Is there a lake near here?” she said, confused.

She was 5 miles from Lake Michigan. Slowly the reality set in. Her face dropped.

She waited at the bus stop to go back to the Mariano’s where her husband first disappeared.

nsalzman@chicagotribune.com

But up north, the implications for Chicago are just as significant, given that Biden’s move came less than three months before the arrival of the Democratic National Convention.

Many have predicted Republicans such as Texas Gov. Greg Abbott would pounce on the opportunity to increase the number of migrant buses sent to Chicago in order to embarrass the liberal city during the high-profile event and try to weaken Biden in his rematch against Donald Trump. Limiting asylum-seekers’ entry into the U.S. before then could make it more difficult for Abbott and others to follow through on that gambit.

Biden’s policy is designed to drastically curtail the number of migrants seeking asylum at the southern border by halting illegal crossings during periods of high traffic, such as right now. In Chicago — ground zero for how the nation’s recent migrant crisis has played out — political leaders and advocates had mixed reactions to the move.

The divisions reflect an ongoing tug-of-war between progressive and centrist blocs in the Democratic Party, a coalition that’s showing strain as left-leaning party members rip Biden for his handling of the Israel-Hamas war.

Mayor Brandon Johnson issued a statement Wednesday that neither endorsed nor condemned Biden’s new asylum restrictions, keeping in line with his reluctance to publicly criticize the president. He instead sought to place blame with Congress, where House Republicans turned down proposals to deal with the situation.

“As President Joe Biden has said, our reliance on a nearly 40-year-old immigration process is inadequate for effectively and humanely addressing today’s challenges,” Johnson wrote in a Tuesday statement. “It is time for Congress to finally work with President Biden to pass comprehensive immigration reform, and create fair and functional policies for our country.”

Gov. J.B. Pritzker told reporters Wednesday that Biden’s executive order was “imperfect” but rejected the premise that it was election-year politicking.

“In my view, we now have a proposal from the president that is, again, it’s not a perfect solution,” Pritzker said. “We’d like the Congress to take action, but the Republican-controlled House is unwilling to do so. … And so, the president is using whatever tools he has to do what is necessary.”

About 43,000 asylum-seekers have made their way to Chicago since 2022, when Abbott sent his first migrant buses north. The resultant humanitarian crisis at one point saw impoverished migrant families sleeping outside Chicago police stations and became a lightning rod for GOP criticism of Biden’s immigration record.

Now, with the White House taking its boldest action on border enforcement yet, local leaders in the city that will serve as the backdrop to the convention celebrating Biden’s nomination are also attacking him from the left. Though Johnson has opted to tread more carefully as he prepares for his role as Chicago’s biggest cheerleader during the DNC, the same could not be said about his most vocal surrogates.

Johnson’s handpicked Housing Committee chair, Ald. Byron Sigcho-Lopez, continued to voice disapproval with the Biden administration following the executive order announcement.

“It’s critical that President Biden understands that following the recipe of fascists like Trump is not going to yield results,” Sigcho-Lopez, 25th, said Wednesday. “He’s playing into Trump’s playbook, which is, create chaos for political gain, chaos that has been created throughout Latin America and chaos that is now here in our country.”

Sigcho-Lopez’s earlier reproach of the Biden administration landed him in hot water when colleagues in April attempted to censure him for speaking at a demonstration against the DNC and Gaza war that included a veteran torching an American flag. Though the vote to punish him failed, the saga forced Johnson to address questions on whether this much intraparty strife unfolding in the backyard of the DNC would hurt Biden’s reelection chances.

U.S. Rep. Jesús “Chuy” Garcia, too issued a statement this week calling Biden’s move “politically motivated.”

“This renewed ban is bad policy, since evidence suggests asylum bans simply do not work. It is also bad politics, since it attempts to mimic Trump-like policies,” Garcia wrote Tuesday. “Instead of enacting cruel and ineffective policies, we must remain committed to creating a fair and human asylum system that welcomes people who come to our country.”

Garcia, whose district includes the heavily Latino Southwest Side of Chicago, instead called for Biden to equip the U.S. Department of Homeland Security with the resources to process asylum applications at a faster rate. He also said the White House should provide relief for longtime immigrants too.

U.S. Rep. Delia Ramirez, who represents the Northwest Side of Chicago and northwest suburbs, echoed the disappointment in a statement also comparing the policy to Trump.

Not all local Democrats expressed dismay over Biden, however. Ald. Gilbert Villegas, 36th, said the outcome was not ideal “but Congress has failed to address a comprehensive immigration plan. And what we’re seeing is the president being the adult in the room.”

“That’s the frustrating part within the Democratic Party,” Villegas said. “We’re a big tent, but we have to understand that at some point, there needs to be decisions made that are not going to be very popular. … It’s unfortunate that the folks from the left — the far-left, the extreme left of the Democratic Party — are trying to compare President Biden to Trump.”

Local immigration advocacy groups in Chicago shook their heads at the action they said harks back to the previous president, who in 2018 utilized the same immigration law Biden is leaning on now to try to ban asylum-seekers from the southern border. As with what unfolded in the wake of Trump’s actions back then, Biden’s new order is likely to receive legal challenges.

Lawrence Benito, executive director of the Illinois Coalition for Immigrant and Refugee Rights, said Biden’s policy showed “disregard for those seeking safety as well as those who have stepped up against cynical tactics from anti-immigrant governors.” He and other advocates also noted the time was now to pressure Biden to use his executive authority to issue work permits for undocumented immigrants who have been in the country for much longer.

Ald. Michael Rodriguez, 22nd, who represents the Southwest Side Little Village neighborhood, said Biden’s order was not the solution Chicagoans were seeking when they called on the federal government to take responsibility for the burden local municipalities such as Chicago were shouldering during the migrant crisis.

“The president should think twice about who his base really is,” said Rodriguez, Johnson’s handpicked chair of the Workforce Development Committee. “I’m really disheartened by this move. I’m upset and I expect more. And I hope this doesn’t cost the president at the ballot box more than he thinks it helps him.”

Another member of Johnson’s City Council leadership team, Immigration Committee chair Ald. Andre Vasquez, questioned whether the policy was simply border security theater during a heated presidential race.

“It seems incredibly cynical, given that the election is around the corner,” Vasquez, 40th, said. “Now as you see public statements from folks, it does fracture the party. … Trying to make the case of Chicago and how we Democrats are a party that celebrates our cultural diversity and welcomes immigrants, I think ends up ringing a little more hollow.”

Meanwhile, humanitarian organizations at the southern border are unsure whether Biden’s decision to limit illegal crossings at the border will actually curb the number of new arrivals to Chicago, said Haniel Lopez, senior program officer for Search for Common Ground Mexico.

Lopez, who works with migrants in the border town of Juarez, Mexico, said human trafficking operations are at an all-time high and he believes those fleeing their home countries will just find other ways to enter the U.S. — but at the expense of their safety and well-being. That makes Biden’s actions “more a political movement than actually seeing people for what they are,” he said.

“It makes us feel like the U.S. is sending us their crisis,” Lopez said. “This decision is going to put the migrant community in a very vulnerable position.”

Chicago Tribune’s Jeremy Gorner contributed.

The students packed a hodgepodge of must-haves.

Kenny Huynh, 11, brought his Stephen Curry basketball jersey, Pokemon cards, medals he won at science fairs and a book he reads to his newborn brother. Greyson Maser, 10, has Legos, a favorite T-shirt, a picture of his family and a book about tanks. And 10-year-old Aria Scott’s 10 things of importance include seven plush dolls, a butterfly she made in fourth grade, her baby brother’s favorite toy tiger and a picture of her and her dad from a father-daughter dance.

This “bag lesson,” is an example of a project Mahmood routinely puts in her lesson plans to teach Asian American history required by law to be taught in Illinois public schools since 2022 under the Teaching Equitable Asian American Community History Act, or TEAACH.

Mahmood, 2024 Illinois Teacher of the Year, was an advocate for the TEAACH Act even before it became a mandate. She has aided other groups with professional development for teachers and curriculum for students in other venues, such as history and contributions of all faith backgrounds.

On that springlike day, Mahmood was teaching the “bag lesson” alongside the award-winning book, “Inside Out & Back Again” by Vietnamese American author Thanhha Lai. The book, part of the TEAACH curriculum, follows Hà Kim and her family’s journey from Saigon to a refugee camp in Guam. The family would eventually come to the United States. The book chronicles the author’s first year in the U.S. in 1975 as a 10-year-old girl who didn’t speak English.

“It’s not only about teaching Asian American history, it’s also teaching about the universal experience that refugees have, with the refugee crisis that’s going on in Chicago and all over the country,” Mahmood said. “They don’t know it’s the curriculum; they just know it’s the way I teach.”

Mahmood’s classroom reflects how she teaches.

Visitors and passersby can see a big bulletin board with Indigenous people at the center and a social justice vocabulary wall in the back of the room, where kids learn terms such as cultural appropriation and ethnocentric immigrant refugee. Mahmood guides her students in writing historical fiction and facilitates frequent conversations about why people of color and marginalized communities have historically been relegated to the margins of textbooks or left out altogether.

Mahmood has informed students about Manilamen Larry Itliong and Philip Vera Cruz — Filipino American labor organizers who were part of the 1965-1966 strike and boycott against California grape growers — and astronauts, including Kalpana Chawla and Sunita Williams.

As leader of the school’s social justice club, Mahmood also thinks up projects for students to engage their civic muscles monthly, such as conducting a drive for hygiene items for the refugee population in the Chicagoland area.

Mahmood stays ready with cultural resources, adamant that the next generation will see themselves and their identities in the school curriculum. That’s a big part of the reason she became a teacher.

With a mother who is a Russian Jew, a dad who is an Indian Hindu, stepparents who are German-Italian Catholics and a husband who is a Pakistani Muslim, Mahmood said she grew up absent from the curriculum. That’s why it was so important to be a part of the TEAACH Act legislation and its implementation.

“When you’re absent from the curriculum, you learn a lot of unintentional lessons from well-intentioned people,” Mahmood said. “I learned lessons about my identity that were unintentional that caused me a lot of trauma. Then I found multicultural education. I became a teacher, because I was still searching for that belonging in school.”

Mahmood has made it a point to be a teacher who normalizes cultures, languages, foods, stories and histories of all backgrounds. “Our culture is one of the greatest assets we bring to our community,” she said. “It’s not a hindrance; it defines who we are and makes our wonderful world complex and interesting. We all need to lift each other up in spaces so people can feel a sense of belonging.”

Grace Pai, executive director of Asian Americans Advancing Justice Chicago, or AAAJ-Chicago, was instrumental in getting the TEAACH Act passed in 2021. Efforts were launched at the same time the nation was shutting down because of the pandemic. The goal is to combat discrimination and harmful stereotypes that lead to violence.

So far, AAAJ-Chicago has trained more than 2,200 educators across the state on how to approach and teach Asian American history, Pai said. It starts with an introductory two-hour professional development workshop and continues with resources that include a teaching database that offers book recommendations, videos, lesson plans and articles that tie topics in Asian American history to state learning standards.

Mahmood has helped with the professional development around TEAACH through her education consulting practice. Pai envisions more teacher training and engagement with Asian American curricula, as well as asking constituents to ask school administrations for proof the history is being taught. And if it’s not, to advocate for it.

According to Pai, AAAJ-Chicago is one of a handful of organizations seeking more funds from the Illinois legislature to expand an existing, yearlong professional development series on inclusive history for educators — one that supports all-inclusive history requirements.

Jeremy Bautista, a Filipino American IT professional at Westmont High School, connected with the Very Asian Foundation in September to help bring teaching resources and AAAJ-Chicago’s professional development workshop to his school. Bautista brought together teachers from Westmont’s English, social studies and science departments to incorporate Asian American curricula into their lesson plans. Bautista, who has a master’s degree in teaching, sees the TEAACH Act as one facet of a bigger picture that has been a long time coming.

“To be aware of a part of American history that might inform your conversations in class … to share a different perspective, this is what the TEAACH Act is for,” he said. “It’s good to talk about diverse backgrounds. It’s not this trivial thing.”

Bautista co-sponsors the student group CAPAOW!, the Club of Asian and Pacific Americans of Westmont at Westmont High School.

“Kids see the value of having teachers educated — students want their teachers to be more informed and understanding of their culture,” Bautista said. “You need people like Dr. Mahmood, and a place like Westmont that are embracing that so kids can grow up understanding that they’re part of this process, they’re part of this society and this world and it’s OK to be you.”

Bautista has worked in his hometown school district for over 25 years and said when he learned about the TEAACH Act, he was excited.

“The benefit of the resources is for everybody,” he said. “Asian American students, sure, but they get to share with their friends … and it’s inspired other groups to do the same thing.”

He said for European refugees, seeing CAPAOW! and the Asian American curriculum in the lessons shows them they also have a voice and a safe space to share their culture.

“It means a lot to the kids to normalize those aspects of their identity which are often marginalized or completely invisible,” Mahmood said.

Mahmood went to school in Downers Grove and remembers learning about the Holocaust and a little about Hinduism in sixth grade.

“If you don’t talk about Asian Americans, then you learn that they’re not part of history,” she said. “Mexicans are not part of history … you learn unintentional lessons through what you read; you open a textbook and they’re not there. That means that they’re not important. You don’t realize it when you’re little, but 20 years later, like me, I tell my students I learned all these negative things about my culture. I’m discovering all these things about my culture now, and I wish I would have learned them as a kid so I was less embarrassed and more proud. I don’t want you to take 20 years to learn it.”

Mahmood joined Indian Prairie School District 204 in 2005 and has spent the last nine years at Georgetown Elementary School. She has led diversity and equity teams across the district, worked to encourage interfaith discussions and written curriculum for her district and beyond.

With her teacher of the year state honor comes a yearlong paid sabbatical to bring her culturally responsive teaching practices to educators and schools around the state and to share her approach to teaching on the platform concept of “belonging.”

“We need to create spaces where not only students feel that they belong, but staff (too); and part of that is letting people show up as their authentic self,” Mahmood said. “Part of that is understanding people’s histories, contributions and culture and all of those pieces that make them uniquely themselves.”

Her culturally responsive teaching is constantly observing students to see what their needs and fears are. Mahmood is taking the next school year to travel around the state; she wants to connect with people, hear what they need and help with those needs.

Mahmood said by viewing students’ cultures as assets and tools that can be leveraged in the classroom, instead of obstacles to overcome, the educational system can change for the better.

“You’re seeing the knowledge they bring, the cultural assets they have. And you’re responding to it by changing the way you teach, what you teach, enhancing it in a way that everything they bring to school becomes useful to them,” she said. “We can do the same thing with teachers. There’s so much diversity in our community and every part of that diversity belongs in education.”

The vote came as President Joe Biden unveiled plans Tuesday to restrict the number of migrants seeking asylum at the U.S.-Mexico border, saying “This action will help to gain control of our border, restore order to the process.”

Arizona’s proposal, approved on a 31-29 vote by the state House, would allow state and local police to arrest people crossing the border without authorization. It would also give state judges the power to order people convicted of the offense to return to their countries of origin.

The proposal bypasses Democratic Gov. Katie Hobbs, who had vetoed a similar measure in early March and has denounced the effort to bring the issue to voters.

House Republicans closed access to the upper gallery of the chamber before the session started Tuesday, citing concerns about security and possible disruptions. The move immediately drew the criticism of Democrats, who demanded that the gallery be reopened.

“The public gallery should be open to the public. This is the people’s House,” said state Rep. Analise Ortiz.

House representatives voted along party lines, with all Republicans voting in favor of the proposal and all Democrats voting against it.

Supporters of the bill said it was necessary to ensure security along the state’s southern border, and that Arizona voters should be given the opportunity to decide the issue themselves.

“We need this bill and we must act on it,” said state Rep. John Gillette, a Republican.

Opponents called the legislation unconstitutional and said it would lead to racial profiling, separating children from parents and create several millions of dollars in additional policing costs that the state can ill afford.

“It is not a solution. It is election year politics,” said Rep. Mariana Sandoval, a Democrat.

The proposal is similar to a Texas law that has been put on hold by a federal appeals court while it’s being challenged. The Arizona Senate approved the proposal on a 16-13 party-line vote. If it clears the House, the proposal would bypass Democratic Gov. Katie Hobbs, who vetoed a similar proposal in early March, and instead get sent to the Nov. 5 ballot.

While federal law already prohibits the unauthorized entry of migrants into the U.S., proponents of the measure say it’s needed because the federal government hasn’t done enough to stop people from crossing illegally over Arizona’s vast, porous border with Mexico. They also said some people who enter Arizona without authorization commit identity theft and take advantage of public benefits.

Opponents say the proposal would inevitably lead to racial profiling by police and saddle the state with new costs from law enforcement agencies that don’t have experience with immigration law, as well as hurt Arizona’s reputation in the business world.

But supporters have waved off racial profiling concerns, saying local officers would still have to develop probable cause to arrest people who enter Arizona between the ports of entry.

The backers also say the measure focuses only on the state’s border region and — unlike Arizona’s landmark 2010 immigration law — doesn’t target people throughout the state. Opponents point out the proposal doesn’t contain any geographical limitations on where it can be enforced within the state.

The ballot proposal contains other provisions that aren’t included in the Texas measure and aren’t directly related to immigration. Those include making it a felony punishable by up to 10 years in prison for selling fentanyl that leads to a person’s death, and a requirement that some government agencies use a federal database to verify a noncitizen’s eligibility for benefits.

Warning about potential legal costs, opponents pointed to Arizona’s 2005 immigrant smuggling ban used by then-Maricopa County Sheriff Joe Arpaio to carry out 20 large-scale traffic patrols that targeted immigrants. That led to a 2013 racial profiling verdict and taxpayer-funded legal and compliance costs that now total $265 million and are expected to reach $314 million by July 2025.

Under the current proposal, a first-time conviction of the border-crossing provision would be a misdemeanor punishable by up to six months in jail. State judges could order people to return to their countries of origin after completing a term of incarceration, although the courts would have the power to dismiss cases if those arrested agree to return home.

The measure would require the state corrections department to take into custody people who are charged or convicted under the measure if local or county law enforcement agencies don’t have enough space to house them.

The proposal includes exceptions for people who have been granted lawful presence status or asylum by the federal government.

The provision allowing for the arrests of border crossers in between ports would not take effect until the Texas law or similar laws from other states have been in effect for 60 days.

This isn’t the first time Republican lawmakers in Arizona have tried to criminalize migrants who aren’t authorized to be in the United States.

When passing its 2010 immigration bill, the Arizona Legislature considered expanding the state’s trespassing law to criminalize the presence of immigrants and impose criminal penalties. But the trespassing language was removed and replaced with a requirement that officers, while enforcing other laws, question people’s immigration status if they were believed to be in the country illegally.

The questioning requirement was ultimately upheld by the U.S. Supreme Court despite the racial profiling concerns of critics, but courts barred enforcement of other sections of the law.

The measure takes effect immediately because the new policy is triggered when arrests for illegal entry reach 2,500. About 4,000 people already are entering the U.S. each day. It was a major policy shift on a critical election-year issue that’s exposed Biden to Republican criticism over an unprecedented surge in new arrivals in an election year.

The measure

Advocates say the new measure will put migrants in danger and violate international obligations to provide safe haven to people whose lives are threatened. The Biden administration denies that.

Legal challenges are imminent.

There are also serious questions of whether the new measure can stop large-scale migrant entries. Mexico has agreed to take back migrants who are not Mexican, but only in limited numbers. And the Biden administration doesn’t have the money and diplomatic support it needs to deport migrants long distances, to China and countries in Africa, for example.

Many who claim asylum today are free to live and work in the United States while their claims slowly wind through overwhelmed immigration courts.

Some questions and answers about Biden’s presidential proclamation:

HOW WILL THIS PLAY OUT ON THE GROUND?

The threshold triggers a halt on asylum until average daily arrests for illegal crossings fall below 1,500 for a week straight. The last time crossings were that low was around the peak of the COVID-19 pandemic, in July 2020.

The pandemic-related asylum restrictions known as Title 42 carried no legal consequences and encouraged repeat attempts. Now, migrants will be issued deportation orders even if they are denied a chance to seek asylum. That will expose them to criminal prosecution if they try again and ban them for several years from legally entering the country. It’s a key difference.

Migrants who express fear for their safety if they’re deported will be screened by U.S. asylum officers but under a higher standard than what’s currently in place. If they pass, they can remain to pursue other forms of humanitarian protection, including those laid out in the U.N. Convention Against Torture.

Unaccompanied children are exempt, raising the possibility that some parents may send their sons and daughters across the border without them.

WHAT ROLE DOES MEXICO PLAY?

A critical one.

The U.S. has limited funding to fly people home to more than 100 countries, including many in Africa and Asia. It also lacks diplomatic sway and logistical arrangements to deport large numbers to many countries, including China, Russia and Venezuela.

A 1997 court order generally limits detention of families with a child under 18 to 20 days, a highly ambitious and perhaps unrealistic turnaround time to screen people who express fear of deportation and then put them on a flight.

Even for single adults, U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement has enough funds to only detain about 34,000 people at a time.

Mexico has agreed to take back up to 30,000 people a month from Cuba, Haiti, Nicaragua and Venezuela, in addition to Mexicans. Its commitment does not extend to other nationalities.

This year, Mexico has also made it far more difficult for migrants to reach the U.S. border, largely by preventing them from riding freight trains and stopping them on buses to turn them around to southern Mexico. While Mexican authorities are blocking migrants’ advance, relatively few are deported, causing many to be stuck in Mexican cities far from the U.S. border.

Alicia Bárcena, Mexico’s foreign relations secretary, told reporters last month that Mexico won’t allow more than 4,000 illegal entries a day. President-elect Claudia Sheinbaum, who takes office Oct. 1, is expected to continue policies of her mentor and Mexico’s current president, Andrés Manuel López Obrador.

HAS THIS BEEN TRIED BEFORE?

This is the latest in a series of measures under the Biden and Trump administrations to deter asylum-seekers, none of which have had lasting impact.

In May 2023, Biden imposed similar obstacles to asylum for anyone who crossed the border illegally after passing through another country, such as Mexico. A federal appeals court allowed those restrictions to stay in place while advocates challenge it, but it appears to have little impact.

Illegal crossings fell after last year’s restrictions took effect, but the lull was short-lived as the number of screening officers was inadequate for the enormous task. The rule’s application in only a small percentage of arrests showed how budgets can fail to match ambitions.

Biden invoked a section of the Immigration and Nationality Act that allows the president to ban entry for groups of people if their presence “would be detrimental to the interests of the United States.” President Donald Trump used these powers to ban entry of people from some predominantly Muslim countries, though advocacy groups are expected to argue that Biden failed to meet that “detrimental” criterion.

The White House detailed the long-anticipated presidential proclamation signed by Biden, which would bar migrants from being granted asylum when U.S. officials deem that the southern border is overwhelmed. The Democratic president has contemplated unilateral action for months, especially after the collapse of a bipartisan border security deal in Congress that most Republican lawmakers rejected at the behest of former President Donald Trump, the presumptive GOP presidential nominee.

“The border is not a political issue to be weaponized,” Biden said, adding that he would have preferred deeper and more lasting action via legislation but that “Republicans left me no choice.”

Instead, he said he was moving past GOP obstruction to “do what I can on my own to address the border” while also insisting that “I believe immigration has always been the lifeblood of America.”

“This action will help to gain control of our border, restore order to the process,” the president said.

The order will go into effect when the number of border encounters between ports of entry hits 2,500 per day, according to senior administration officials. That means Biden’s order should go into effect immediately, because that figure is higher than the daily averages now.

The restrictions would be in effect until two weeks after the daily encounter numbers are at or below 1,500 per day between ports of entry, under a seven-day average. Those figures were first reported by The Associated Press on Monday.

Once this order is in effect, migrants who arrive at the border but do not express fear of returning to their home countries will be subject to immediate removal from the United States, within a matter of days or even hours. Those migrants would face punishments that could include a five-year bar from reentering the U.S., as well as potential criminal prosecution.

Meanwhile, anyone who expresses that fear or intention to seek asylum will be screened by a U.S. asylum officer but at a higher standard than what is currently used. If they pass the screening, they can pursue more limited forms of humanitarian protection, including the U.N. Convention Against Torture.

The directive is coming when the number of migrants encountered at the border have been on a consistent decline since December, but senior administration officials nonetheless justified the order by arguing that the numbers are still too high and that the figures could spike in better weather, when the encounter numbers traditionally increase.

Yet many questions and complications remain about how Biden’s new directive would be implemented.

For instance, the Biden administration already has an agreement with Mexico in which Mexico agrees to accept up to 30,000 citizens a month from Cuba, Haiti, Nicaragua and Venezuela once they are denied entry from the U.S., and senior administration officials say that will continue under this order. But it is unclear what happens to nationals of other countries who are denied under Biden’s directive.

Four senior administration officials who insisted on anonymity to describe the effort to reporters, acknowledged that the administration’s goal of deporting migrants quickly is complicated by insufficient funding from Congress to do so. The administration also faces certain legal constraints when it comes to detaining migrant families, although the administration said it would continue to abide by those obligations.

The legal authority being invoked by Biden comes under Section 212(f) of the Immigration and Nationality Act, which allows a president to limit entries for certain migrants if it’s deemed “detrimental” to the national interest. Senior officials expressed confidence that they would be able to implement Biden’s order, despite threats from prominent legal groups to sue the administration over the directive.

“We intend to sue,” said Lee Gelernt, an attorney for the American Civil Liberties Union who successfully argued similar legal challenges under Trump. “A ban on asylum is illegal just as it was when Trump unsuccessfully tried it.”

The senior administration officials insisted that Biden’s proposal differs dramatically from that of Trump, who leaned on the same provisions of the Immigration and Nationality Act that Biden is using, including his 2017 directive to bar citizens of Muslim-majority nations and his efforts in 2018 to clamp down on asylum.

Biden’s order outlines several groups of migrants who would be exempted due to humanitarian reasons, including victims of human trafficking, unaccompanied minors and those with severe medical emergencies.

Trump on Tuesday said on his social media account that Biden has “totally surrendered our Southern Border” and that the order was “all for show” ahead of their June 27 presidential debate.

The directive would also exempt migrants who arrive in what senior officials called an orderly fashion, which includes people who make appointments with border officials at ports of entry using the U.S. Customs and Border Protection’s CBP One app. About 1,450 appointments are made a day using the app, which launched last year.

Immigration advocates worried that Biden’s plan would only increase an already monthslong backlog of migrants waiting for an appointment through the app, especially when immigration authorities do not have an accompanying surge of funding.

It could also be difficult for border officials to implement the plan to quickly remove migrants when many agents are already tasked with helping in shelters and other humanitarian tasks, said Jennie Murray, the president of the National Immigration Forum.

“Customs and Border Protection cannot keep up with apprehensions as it is right now because they don’t have enough personnel so it would cause more disorder,” she said.

Average daily arrests for illegal crossings from Mexico were last below 2,500 in January 2021, the month that Biden took office. The last time the border encounters dipped to 1,500 a day was in July 2020, at the height of the COVID-19 pandemic.

Congressional Republicans dismissed Biden’s order as nothing more than a “political stunt” meant to show toughened immigration enforcement ahead of the election.

“He tried to convince us all for all this time that there was no way he could possibly fix the mess,” GOP House Speaker Mike Johnson said at a news conference. “Remember that he engineered it.”

Biden said in January that he has “done all I can do” to control the border through his executive authority, but White House officials nonetheless telegraphed for months that the president would contemplate unilateral action. Democrats note that Biden waited for months in hopes of legislation rather than acting on his own, which can easily be reversed by his successor.

Democratic Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer said that legislation would have been more effective, but “Republican intransigence has forced the president’s hand.”