Volunteer Delivers Groceries to Undocumented Migrants Living Under Fear of Deportation
Rosa Flores
A volunteer in Chicago is taking a stand against the fear and uncertainty many undocumented migrant families have faced since President Donald Trump took office. The non-profit organization, which has been operating for nearly a decade, uses volunteers to deliver groceries to thousands of families in the city, many of whom are living in constant fear of deportation.
Employing a simple yet profound strategy, the volunteers fill their cars with fresh produce, meat, and pantry staples, then drive to remote areas of the city where families are hiding in the shadows, too afraid to venture out in public for fear of being detected by immigration authorities.
One such volunteer, Maria, is a local resident who has been involved with the organization for several years. “I’ve seen the fear in the eyes of these families,” she said, as we rode along in her car, filled with canned goods and fresh vegetables. “They’re living in constant fear of being raided, of being separated from their children, of being forced to leave the only country they’ve ever known.”
As we drove through the city, Maria pointed out the subtle signs of this fear: the curtains closed at all hours, the perpetual look of anxiety etched on the faces of those we saw. It’s a feeling she knows all too well, having experienced it herself when she was a young immigrant, struggling to make a new life in this country.
But through her time with the organization, Maria has seen moments of hope and resilience. She told stories of families who’ve been able to start small businesses, from taco stands to dry-cleaning shops, made possible by the crucial support of the organization’s grocery deliveries. And she’s witnessed the way even the simplest gift – a bag of fresh produce or a loaf of bread – can literally be a lifeline for those living in the shadows.
As we reached our destination, a small, tidy apartment building tucked away in a quiet neighborhood, Maria pulled over and killed the engine. “This is one of our regular stops,” she said, gathering the bags of groceries. “We know they’re home, and they know we’re coming. It’s a small comfort, but it’s something.”
Back at the door, we met a woman named Elena, who was visibly on edge, glancing out the window and down the hallway, as if checking for unwanted visitors. Her 10-year-old son, sitting on the couch, looked up at us nervously, his eyes wide with uncertainty. Elsa, his mother, explained that they’d been living in the apartment for over a year, constantly looking over their shoulders, waiting for the day they might be discovered.
As Maria unloaded the groceries, Elsa’s eyes lit up, and she spoke quietly, yet with a spark of determination. “We have to keep living, despite the fear,” she said. “We have to keep fighting, for our children’s future.” And as we finished our visit, it became clear that the simple act of delivering groceries was so much more than a basic necessity – it was a lifeline of hope in times of uncertainty.