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Yahoo
3 days ago
- Politics
- Yahoo
Living in lockdown: Undocumented immigrants trade freedom for safety
An undocumented man from Guatemala who has leukemia postponed chemotherapy because he was afraid to go to the hospital. A Mexican grandmother packed most of her belongings into boxes, in case she is deported. A Pentecostal church in East Los Angeles has lost nearly half of its in-person membership. Across California and the U.S., immigrants are responding to the Trump administration's unrelenting enforcement raids by going into lockdown. Activities that were once a regular or even mundane part of life — taking kids to school, buying groceries, driving — have become daunting as immigrants who lack legal authorization grapple with how to avoid arrest and deportation. Read more: Most nabbed in L.A. raids were men with no criminal conviction, picked up off the street To stay safe, some immigrants have swapped in-person activities with digital approximations. Others are simply shutting themselves away from society. 'It's a harmful form of racial profiling combined with the suspension of constitutional rights and due process. That's why many families are staying at home,' said Victor Narro, a professor and project director for the UCLA Labor Center. Pastor Carlos Rincon, who leads a Pentecostal church in East Los Angeles, said that about 400 people used to attend his church every week, people with roots in Guatemala, Mexico, El Salvador and Honduras. Now, half as many attend and viewership of live-streamed services on Facebook and YouTube has increased. Some prayer groups meet on Zoom. In January, the Trump administration said immigration agents were free to make arrests in sensitive locations once considered off limits, such as hospitals, schools and churches. At Rincon's church — which he asked not be named for concern about retaliation — fear has colored life in ways large and small. A congregant in his late 20s who has leukemia postponed his chemotherapy, afraid he could be caught and deported to Guatemala. After he decided to reschedule the upcoming treatment, church leaders agreed they will take turns staying with him at the hospital. A half-day program to provide resources for landscapers and a music class for children were canceled this month after many said they were too afraid to attend. Rincon restarted the music class last week for those who could attend. On Wednesday, after neighbors told him that immigration agents had been lurking around the area, he warned families against attending a regularly scheduled in-person church service. Five miles away at Our Lady of Lourdes Church, Father Ricardo Gonzalez said church attendance is down at least 30%. The church doesn't live-stream Mass, though he's considering it. Gonzalez said parishioners expect him to have answers, but as an immigrant green card holder himself, he too doesn't know how to react if immigration agents show up at the church. "If I get arrested, am I going to be thrown from the country?" he said. "Who is going to help me out?" For weeks, agents have been arresting those who show up at courthouses for their immigration proceedings. Volunteers at USC, UCLA, UC Irvine and UC Law San Francisco responded by establishing a free hotline to help people file motions to move their appointments online. The service was the idea of Olu Orange, a lawyer and USC political science and international relations professor who runs the Agents of Change Civil Rights Advocacy Initiative. Since the hotline (888-462-5211) went live June 15, volunteers have responded to nearly 4,000 calls and helped more than 300 people fill out the form to move their hearings online. On Friday, Orange answered a call from a girl who sounded about 12 years old, whose parent had been picked up by immigration agents. "She saw this number on social media and she called and she said, 'What can I do?'" Orange said. He gave her the number for CHIRLA, a local immigrant rights nonprofit. Read more: L.A. restaurants and nonprofits mobilize to deliver groceries to sheltering immigrants Luz Gallegos, executive director of TODEC Legal Center in the Inland Empire, said the pandemic prepared some rural and elderly residents for the current reality because it taught people to use technology — "to go virtual." Now they have WiFi access and know how to use Zoom. Some, though, also fear staying digitally connected. Gallegos said many people who call TODEC's hotline say they are changing phone companies because they are afraid of being tracked by immigration agents. Others say they're swapping cellphones for pagers. Many of the immigrants served by TODEC now leave their homes only for work, Gallegos said. They have groceries delivered or run to the store when they think border agents are least likely to be on patrol. Before schools let out for the summer, some parents switched their children to online classes. Some Inland Empire farmworkers now won't grab their own mail from community mailboxes, Gallegos said, so TODEC has mobilized volunteers to drop off mail, give people rides and help with interpretation needs. One person helped by the nonprofit is Doña Chela, an undocumented 66-year-old woman who asked to be identified by her nickname. Many months ago, Doña Chela packed up her possessions after making plans to return to her hometown in Michoacan, Mexico, for the first time since she arrived in the U.S. in 1999. But in April, her brother called to say it wasn't safe there, that cartel groups had taken over the neighborhood and were extorting residents. Her husband, a U.S. citizen, has dementia. She thought of moving instead to a border town such as Mexicali, where she and her husband could still be near their three adult U.S.-born daughters. But then her husband's condition began to decline, and now starting over feels too difficult. Even so, she has chosen to keep her clothes, pots and pans, and jewelry packed away — just in case. Doña Chela doesn't leave her home except for emergencies. Her daughters bring her groceries because she has stopped driving. She no longer goes to church or makes big batches of tamales for community reunions. She barely sleeps, thinking that agents could burst through her door any time. "I don't know what to do anymore," she said, crying. "I will wait here until they kick me out." Her only distraction from constant anxiety is the lush garden she tends to daily, with mangoes, nopales, limes and a variety of herbs. Gallegos, of TODEC, said the situation faced by Doña Chela and so many others bring to mind a song by Los Tigres del Norte — "La Jaula de Oro." The golden cage. "Our community is in a golden cage," she said. "I hope it's not too late when this country realizes they need our immigrant workforce to sustain our economy." Read more: In Southern California, many are skipping healthcare out of fear of ICE operations St. John's Community Health, one of the largest nonprofit community healthcare providers in Los Angeles County that caters to low-income and working-class residents, launched a home visitation program after it surveyed patients and found many canceling appointments 'solely due to fear of being apprehended by ICE.' The clinic, which serves L.A., the Inland Empire and the Coachella Valley, said that since the immigration raids began, more than a third of all patients didn't show up or canceled their appointments. Some of those who canceled signed up for telehealth or home visits performed by a small team of medical staff, according to Jim Mangia, the clinic's chief executive. The clinic is adding another home visitation team to double the amount of visits they perform. Community coalitions are stepping in to help immigrants who can't afford to hide. OC Rapid Response Network, for instance, raised enough funds through payment app Venmo to send 14 street vendors home. Robb Smith, who runs Alley Cat Deliveries, said he has seen requests for grocery deliveries grow by about 25%. He doesn't ask his customers if they're immigrants in hiding, but there are signs that people are afraid to leave their house. One woman, who said she was making an inquiry for a friend, asked him if he saw any ICE officers when he was picking up items at Costco. Glen Curado, the founder and chief executive of World Harvest Food Bank in Los Angeles, said there has been a significant drop in people coming in to pick up groceries in person. Up to 100 families visit the food bank on a weekday, down from the usual high of 150, he said. The food bank has a program, called Cart With A Heart, in which people can donate $50 toward fresh produce, protein and other staples to feed two families for a week. The donors can then take those groceries to people sheltering in place. 'It's almost like a war scene,' Curado said. 'You hide here. I'll go out and I'll get it for you, and I'll bring it back — that mentality.' Castillo reported from Washington and Wong from San Francisco. Times staff writer Melissa Gomez in Los Angeles contributed to this report. Get the L.A. Times Politics newsletter. Deeply reported insights into legislation, politics and policy from Sacramento, Washington and beyond, in your inbox twice per week. This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times.
Los Angeles Times
3 days ago
- Politics
- Los Angeles Times
Living in lockdown: Undocumented immigrants trade freedom for safety
WASHINGTON — An undocumented man from Guatemala who has leukemia postponed chemotherapy because he was afraid to go to the hospital. A Mexican grandmother packed most of her belongings into boxes, in case she is deported. A Pentecostal church in East Los Angeles has lost nearly half of its in-person membership. Across California and the U.S., immigrants are responding to the Trump administration's unrelenting enforcement raids by going into lockdown. Activities that were once a regular or even mundane part of life — taking kids to school, buying groceries, driving — have become daunting as immigrants who lack legal authorization grapple with how to avoid arrest and deportation. To stay safe, some immigrants have swapped in-person activities with digital approximations. Others are simply shutting themselves away from society. 'It's a harmful form of racial profiling combined with the suspension of constitutional rights and due process. That's why many families are staying at home,' said Victor Narro, a professor and project director for the UCLA Labor Center. Pastor Carlos Rincon, who leads a Pentecostal church in East Los Angeles, said that about 400 people used to attend his church every week, people with roots in Guatemala, Mexico, El Salvador and Honduras. Now, half as many attend and viewership of live-streamed services on Facebook and YouTube has increased. Some prayer groups meet on Zoom. In January, the Trump administration said immigration agents were free to make arrests in sensitive locations once considered off limits, such as hospitals, schools and churches. At Rincon's church — which he asked not be named for concern about retaliation — fear has colored life in ways large and small. A congregant in his late 20s who has leukemia postponed his chemotherapy, afraid he could be caught and deported to Guatemala. After he decided to reschedule the upcoming treatment, church leaders agreed they will take turns staying with him at the hospital. A half-day program to provide resources for landscapers and a music class for children were canceled this month after many said they were too afraid to attend. Rincon restarted the music class last week for those who could attend. On Wednesday, after neighbors told him that immigration agents had been lurking around the area, he warned families against attending a regularly scheduled in-person church service. Five miles away at Our Lady of Lourdes Church, Father Ricardo Gonzalez said church attendance is down at least 30%. The church doesn't live-stream Mass, though he's considering it. Gonzalez said parishioners expect him to have answers, but as an immigrant green card holder himself, he too doesn't know how to react if immigration agents show up at the church. 'If I get arrested, am I going to be thrown from the country?' he said. 'Who is going to help me out?' For weeks, agents have been arresting those who show up at courthouses for their immigration proceedings. Volunteers at USC, UCLA, UC Irvine and UC Law San Francisco responded by establishing a free hotline to help people file motions to move their appointments online. The service was the idea of Olu Orange, a lawyer and USC political science and international relations professor who runs the Agents of Change Civil Rights Advocacy Initiative. Since the hotline (888-462-5211) went live June 15, volunteers have responded to nearly 4,000 calls and helped more than 300 people fill out the form to move their hearings online. On Friday, Orange answered a call from a girl who sounded about 12 years old, whose parent had been picked up by immigration agents. 'She saw this number on social media and she called and she said, 'What can I do?'' Orange said. He gave her the number for CHIRLA, a local immigrant rights nonprofit. Luz Gallegos, executive director of TODEC Legal Center in the Inland Empire, said the pandemic prepared some rural and elderly residents for the current reality because it taught people to use technology — 'to go virtual.' Now they have WiFi access and know how to use Zoom. Some, though, also fear staying digitally connected. Gallegos said many people who call TODEC's hotline say they are changing phone companies because they are afraid of being tracked by immigration agents. Others say they're swapping cellphones for pagers. Many of the immigrants served by TODEC now leave their homes only for work, Gallegos said. They have groceries delivered or run to the store when they think border agents are least likely to be on patrol. Before schools let out for the summer, some parents switched their children to online classes. Some Inland Empire farmworkers now won't grab their own mail from community mailboxes, Gallegos said, so TODEC has mobilized volunteers to drop off mail, give people rides and help with interpretation needs. One person helped by the nonprofit is Doña Chela, an undocumented 66-year-old woman who asked to be identified by her nickname. Many months ago, Doña Chela packed up her possessions after making plans to return to her hometown in Michoacan, Mexico, for the first time since she arrived in the U.S. in 1999. But in April, her brother called to say it wasn't safe there, that cartel groups had taken over the neighborhood and were extorting residents. Her husband, a U.S. citizen, has dementia. She thought of moving instead to a border town such as Mexicali, where she and her husband could still be near their three adult U.S.-born daughters. But then her husband's condition began to decline, and now starting over feels too difficult. Even so, she has chosen to keep her clothes, pots and pans, and jewelry packed away — just in case. Doña Chela doesn't leave her home except for emergencies. Her daughters bring her groceries because she has stopped driving. She no longer goes to church or makes big batches of tamales for community reunions. She barely sleeps, thinking that agents could burst through her door any time. 'I don't know what to do anymore,' she said, crying. 'I will wait here until they kick me out.' Her only distraction from constant anxiety is the lush garden she tends to daily, with mangoes, nopales, limes and a variety of herbs. Gallegos, of TODEC, said the situation faced by Doña Chela and so many others bring to mind a song by Los Tigres del Norte — 'La Jaula de Oro.' The golden cage. 'Our community is in a golden cage,' she said. 'I hope it's not too late when this country realizes they need our immigrant workforce to sustain our economy.' St. John's Community Health, one of the largest nonprofit community healthcare providers in Los Angeles County that caters to low-income and working-class residents, launched a home visitation program after it surveyed patients and found many canceling appointments 'solely due to fear of being apprehended by ICE.' The clinic, which serves L.A., the Inland Empire and the Coachella Valley, said that since the immigration raids began, more than a third of all patients didn't show up or canceled their appointments. Some of those who canceled signed up for telehealth or home visits performed by a small team of medical staff, according to Jim Mangia, the clinic's chief executive. The clinic is adding another home visitation team to double the amount of visits they perform. Community coalitions are stepping in to help immigrants who can't afford to hide. OC Rapid Response Network, for instance, raised enough funds through payment app Venmo to send 14 street vendors home. Robb Smith, who runs Alley Cat Deliveries, said he has seen requests for grocery deliveries grow by about 25%. He doesn't ask his customers if they're immigrants in hiding, but there are signs that people are afraid to leave their house. One woman, who said she was making an inquiry for a friend, asked him if he saw any ICE officers when he was picking up items at Costco. Glen Curado, the founder and chief executive of World Harvest Food Bank in Los Angeles, said there has been a significant drop in people coming in to pick up groceries in person. Up to 100 families visit the food bank on a weekday, down from the usual high of 150, he said. The food bank has a program, called Cart With A Heart, in which people can donate $50 toward fresh produce, protein and other staples to feed two families for a week. The donors can then take those groceries to people sheltering in place. 'It's almost like a war scene,' Curado said. 'You hide here. I'll go out and I'll get it for you, and I'll bring it back — that mentality.' Castillo reported from Washington and Wong from San Francisco. Times staff writer Melissa Gomez in Los Angeles contributed to this report.
Los Angeles Times
02-06-2025
- Business
- Los Angeles Times
Federal lawsuit alleges discrimination against Vietnamese women nail techs
The fight for licensed manicurists to be able to work as self-employed without passing a test is going to court. Backed by Vietnamese American nail technicians and nail salon owners holding protest signs, including 'stop Asian hate,' Republican Assemblyman Tri Ta announced Monday morning the filing of a discrimination lawsuit outside of the Ronald Reagan Federal Building and U.S. Courthouse in Santa Ana. 'Earlier this year, our office received many concerns from Vietnamese American manicurists and nail salon owners,' Ta said at a news conference. 'Their lives were turned upside down overnight when the independent contractor status expired on January 1.' 'It is not just unfair, it is discrimination,' he added. Licensed barbers, cosmetologists, estheticians and electrologists can still work as independent contractors under state labor law without being subjected to a rigorous test. But exemptions under Assembly Bill 5 expired this year for manicurists. The change has left manicurists and nail salon owners alike confused as to whether non-employees can continue renting booths for their businesses — a decades-long industry practice. Ta, whose 70th Assembly District encompasses Little Saigon, said 82% of manicurists in the state are Vietnamese, with 85% of those being women. The federal discrimination suit, filed on May 31, represents several Orange County nail salon businesses as well as individual manicurists. Gov. Gavin Newsom and the heads of five state agencies and boards are named as defendants. 'This lawsuit seeks only one thing — to make sure that all professionals in the beauty industry are treated equally and to eliminate the obvious discrimination against the Vietnamese community,' the complaint reads. Attorney Scott Wellman, who is litigating on behalf of the nail salon owners and manicurists, held up a copy of the complaint during the news conference. He claimed the equal protection rights of his clients under the U.S. Constitution are being violated by the lack of an exemption. 'This wrong has to be righted,' Wellman said. The suit represents a change in strategy for those fighting on behalf of aggrieved manicurists and nail salon owners. In February, Ta introduced Assembly Bill 504, which aimed to reinstate the exemption for manicurists, but later claimed the proposed legislation couldn't even get a hearing from the committee on labor and employment. He followed up in March by calling for the U.S. Department of Justice to launch an investigation into alleged racial discrimination codified in California labor law, before ultimately turning to federal court. 'These hardworking professionals deserve the same freedom to set their own hours, to choose their own clients, to rent their own booths and to run their own businesses on their own terms just like other peers in the beauty industry,' Ta said Monday. Ta and the suit cite statistics from a UCLA Labor Center report on California's nail salon industry that was published last year. Co-authors of the report, though, have been publicly critical of Ta's efforts to have the exemption reinstated. 'As an industry predominantly consisting of Vietnamese and female manicurists, AB 5 protects the community from misclassification and labor violations that have long existed at the workplace so that they can receive the wages, benefits and protections that all workers deserve,' said Lisa Fu, executive director of the California Healthy Nail Salon Collaborative and report co-author. The report found that 80% of nail salon workers are considered low-wage earners, with 30% of manicurists in the state classified as self-employed, which is triple the national rate. Assemblywoman Lorena Gonzalez, who authored the sunset provision in AB 5, previously told TimesOC that the nail salon industry has a long history of high misclassification rates that needed added guardrails for labor rights 'while still allowing individual business owners the ability to work as a sole proprietor and simply rent space from a salon.' Manicurists who back the federal discrimination suit spoke out at Monday's press conference. 'I want to be able to continue to work as an independent contractor,' said Loan Ho. 'It gives me more flexibility. I have time to raise my children.' Emily Micelli works out of Blu Nail Bar at Fashion Island in Newport Beach, which is the lead plaintiff in the suit. She has more than 20 years of experience as a nail technician and doesn't want to be a nail salon employee. Micelli left the previous nail salon she worked out of when the owner wouldn't allow her to continue as an independent contractor. 'I cannot keep clients on my phone, make appointments and come up with my own custom design packages,' Micelli said after the news conference. 'I have to abide by the salon's rules. It will make me lose business.' Micelli believes that while the law may be well-intended, it otherwise serves to discriminate against Vietnamese American women like herself. 'I know the law wants to protect us as workers,' she said, 'but being a W-2 [worker] is better for office workers not for people like us, who are artists. I'm actually an artist — a nail artist.'
Los Angeles Times
14-02-2025
- Business
- Los Angeles Times
Worker rights? Racial bias? A law change for manicurists prompts debate, confusion
Since the beginning of the year, licensed manicurists and nail salon owners in Orange County and across the state have been confused about whether a change in state law allows the business practice of renting a booth to continue or not. After an exemption expired under state law, nail salon workers are now subject to a rigorous test to determine if they are independent contractors while licensed aestheticians, electrologists, barbers and cosmetologists remain exempted from it. Assemblyman Tri Ta, a Republican whose 70th Assembly District encompasses cities including Garden Grove, Westminster and Fountain Valley, is leading an effort to bring the exemption back and extend it indefinitely to clear up the confusion. 'In the past few months, my office has received a lot of calls and emails from nail salon owners and professionals,' Ta said. 'They are stressed out because the exclusion has created financial and operational difficulties. That is a burden and financial hardship for salon owners and manicurists. We have to do something for them.' What Ta proposes is simple: reinsert the independent contractor exemption for licensed manicurists through Assembly Bill 504, which he co-authored with fellow Republican Assembly member Alexandra Macedo. Lucero Herrera, a co-author of a UCLA Labor Center report on nail salon workers published last year, expressed concerns that the bill would represent a step back for manicurists. 'While some manicurists operate as legitimate independent contractors — bringing their own supplies, setting their own hours and managing their own clients — many should be classified as employees and receive essential labor protections,' she said. 'Extending the exemption under AB 504 could further erode worker protections and perpetuate precarity in the nail salon industry.' Ta introduced his bill on Feb. 10 and said it aims to correct 'racial targeting' in state employment law, as he pointed to the UCLA report's finding that 82% of manicurists were born in Vietnam and 85% are women. 'If the exemption already works for other types of beauty licenses, it should work for manicurists,' he said. 'We know that the industry is made up of minority business owners and workers. They are pursuing their own version of the American dream.' Mike Vo, a Huntington Beach-based business attorney and co-founder of the Pro Nails Assn., deemed a joint bulletin by the state Department of Consumer Affairs and Board of Barbering and Cosmetology alerting manicurists that the rules would 'slightly differ' in 2025 to be an understatement. 'It's a dramatic change,' he said. 'I think that misled some folks.' In recent months, Vo has educated the nail salon industry, from owners to manicurists, about his interpretation of the rule changes. 'It's really disrupting the business model that folks have invested thousands of dollars into,' Vo said. 'The investments that are required to perform nail services as a licensed manicurist would require substantial investments in either retrofitting a home or having a mobile trailer. For some people, that's not practical.' Vo has advised manicurists who are also licensed cosmetologists that they can also legally do nails at a salon as an independent contractor, but that would entail budgeting a return to beauty school for those who don't already hold a cosmetology license. The change in state law particularly impacts Southern California, where half of all of the state's nail salon workers are located, according to the UCLA report. Orange County, as home to the largest Vietnamese population outside of Vietnam, has long seen such refugees work as manicurists after the fall of Saigon nearly 50 years ago. 'For several decades, Vietnamese nail professionals have been really successful,' Ta said. 'The nail industry is one of the most important career opportunities for the Vietnamese American community, not only in Orange County, not only in California, but across the nation.' With a more critical view of the industry, former Assemblywoman Lorena Gonzalez originally set a 2022 sunset provision for manicurists in AB 5, a bill that was signed into law in 2019. 'Nail salons have had a long history of high rates of misclassification and utilization of an immigrant workforce that often is unaware of their employment rights — an issue I worked on as a legislator long before AB 5,' said Gonzalez, a Democrat who is now president of the California Federation of Labor Unions. 'Additional guardrails were needed in the law to ensure the misclassified workers in this industry were protected, while still allowing individual business owners the ability to work as a sole proprietor and simply rent space from a salon.' In 2021, Gov. Gavin Newsom signed an extension that expired this year. The California Federation of Labor Unions is working with legislators to clarify its position that booth renting can continue after the law change. Vo doesn't see any viable way for a licensed manicurist to be considered an independent contractor under what's known as the ABC test, which demands proof that their work is not overseen by a business owner and is provided outside of the normal course of a hiring business owner. 'I have yet to talk to anyone who is still legally characterized as an independent contractor after the ABC test,' Vo said. Being classified as an employee entitles nail salon workers to earn at least the state's minimum wage in addition to other rights and benefits like sick pay, rest and meal breaks, overtime pay and workers' compensation. According to the UCLA report, a third of nail salon workers were classified as self-employed before the rule change and 80% of nail salon workers, overall, were considered low-wage earners earning less than $17.08 an hour. 'Misclassification often results in lower wages, unstable income and lack of rights,' Herrera said. 'Unemployment insurance, health and safety protections and safeguards against retaliation and discrimination are all benefits that proved critical for manicurists during the pandemic.' Ta's bill is awaiting a referral to a policy committee. He sees it as a necessary step to correct what he believes is an unfair singling out of mostly Vietnamese women manicurists. 'We just want to correct an unfair treatment in California employment law,' Ta said. 'Everyone needs to have the same treatment. It is a must for nail salon professionals.'
