As much of the world knows, the United States is currently undergoing one of the most drastic changes to its immigration laws under President Donald Trump’s new executive orders and proposals. What much of the world fails to realize, however, is the true danger these changes bring, and how deeply they threaten the rights, safety, and futures of millions of people, especially those within Hispanic communities.
This is no longer just a matter of enforcing border control or making small incremental changes to immigration policy, these reforms have an entirely different, far more sinister goal. From mass deportations to the rapid expansion of detention camps, the goal of Trump’s second term is to ultimately redefine who is qualified enough to be considered American. This effort is not only centered on changing immigration law, but on reshaping who gets to be a part of American society, who gets to feel as though they belong in America.
Trump’s second-term immigration agenda is not merely a continuation of his first-term policies, it is a dramatic and dangerous escalation that weaponizes fear, law, and racial targeting to reshape the American identity and systemically exclude Hispanic communities from full belonging.
To fully grasp how dangerous President Trump’s current immigration plans are, we must first examine the foundational policies he set in motion during his first term. From the beginning, Trump defined immigration as one of the central issues of his presidency, building a political identity around restriction, exclusion, and fear. His first term was shaped by signature policies that completely reshaped the structure and philosophy of the U.S. immigration system.
One of the most infamous of these enacted policies was the 2018 family separation policy, a part of the administration’s so-called “zero-tolerance approach at the U.S. and Mexico border.” This policy mandated that all adults crossing the border illegally were to be criminally prosecuted, even including those seeking asylum. This ultimately resulted in thousands of children being forcefully separated from their parents as they underwent the detention process. These children were placed in government-run detention centers, foster care, or other temporary shelters, with the goal of keeping these children safe and eventually reuniting them with their parents. But in reality, this was far from the truth.
Firsthand accounts from inside these centers revealed a horrifying reality: guards taunting detainees, people being physically abused, and even children fainting from the lack of food and nutrients. This appalling truth was widely reported, ultimately making the situation a humanitarian crisis. This policy became a national scandal when it was revealed that the U.S government had lost track of 1,500 children after placing them in their sponsored housing. After this became international news, there were further reports that some of these children had fallen into the hands of traffickers. Although this policy was eventually reversed, the damage had already been done, with some families still tragically unsure of where their children are.
Another major, detrimental, change during Trump’s first term was the dramatic expansion of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) and its presence and power within the U.S. His administration expanded programs such as 287(g), which allowed local law enforcement to act as immigration enforcers. Programs like this one increased by a staggering 260% during his first term, making everyday police interactions a potential pathway to deportation proceedings. Along with this, ICE workplace raids increased by 60% within a single year, targeting masses of undocumented workers and spreading fear across communities.
These policies were not just legal changes, they were shaped by a deeply rooted, racially motivated ideology that Trump had made alarmingly clear from the very beginning. In 2015, even before launching his campaign, Trump tweeted: “The border is wide open for cartels & terrorists.” Even during his campaign announcement, he infamously stated “When Mexico sends its people, they’re not sending their best. They’re not sending you. They’re not sending you. They’re sending people that have lots of problems, and they’re bringing those problems with us. They’re bringing drugs. They’re bringing crime. They’re rapists.” This rhetoric didn’t stop or fade during his campaign, if anything it intensified. This language and policy constantly framed immigrants, specifically Latinos, as criminals and threats to the American people.
These, and many more, of Trump’s first-term immigration policies were not isolated acts, they were rather the ideological groundwork for much more. This rhetoric and policies became the foundation for his second-term vision that goes beyond anything we have seen before. This is the foundation for a more aggressive, permanent reshaping of who he believes belongs in this country, and more importantly, who doesn’t.
These tactics we witnessed during Trump’s first term, including family separations, raids, mass detentions, were only the beginning. In his second term, not only are these strategies returning, they are expanding and becoming a permanent part of American life. This is no longer only about border control, it’s about fundamentally redefining who gets to be American.
Even before he took office, Trump defined his campaign by promising the largest deportation operation in U.S history. Within hours of becoming president, he declared a national emergency at the U.S-Mexico border and labeled it an “invasion.” By doing this, he not only set the chilling tone for the next four years, but also explicitly framed his immigration policy as a declaration of war against immigrants.
From that point, President Trump almost immediately initiated his mass-deportation efforts. To start, Trump reopened and aggressively expanded detention centers, including repurposed military bases, and signed multi-billion dollar contracts with private prison companies, attempting to double the system’s capacity. In addition to their $170 billion budget, ICE has also been granted an additional $45 billion to build these detention centers, ultimately making ICE the most funded law enforcement agency in the federal government, a clear indication of where this administration’s priorities truly lie.
But this agenda doest stop at the border, it reaches into the heart of American communities. Trump’s plans also include targeting immigrants already living within the U.S., especially their children. Trump has made a continuous effort to end birthright citizenship, attempting to deny citizenship to U.S.- born children of undocumented immigrants and those present on temporary visas. If this new law were to be implemented, this would render thousands of American-born children undocumented, children who have never known another country and call America home. This isn’t just a legal shift, it is an undeniable example of an attempt to define who is considered an American, targeting those from other ethnicities.
Not only this, but legal immigration is also under direct attack. Trump’s new and elevated fees on a wide range of immigration services, including asylum applications (which were previously free), work permits, nonimmigrant visas, and Temporary Protected Status, create insurmountable barriers. These changes not only explicitly exclude working-class immigrants, but also leave legal immigration pathways accessible only to those who are wealthy enough to afford them, ultimately solidifying a class-based vision of who deserves to be considered an American.
In addition to making legal immigration harder and less accessible, Trump has fundamentally altered how immigration law and procedure are enforced. By using the new process of “expedited removal,“ the Department of Homeland Security can now detain and deport individuals accused of entering the U.S. unlawfully or those unable to prove two years of continuous presence on an alarmingly accelerated timeline. In practice, this compressed timeline gives people almost no opportunity to find a defense or even have a hearing in front of a judge, leading to a surge in unjust and unlawful deportations.
To enforce all of these changes, Trump has militarized immigration enforcement even further. He has started using the California National Guard to respond in heavily protested areas, directing them to help ICE catch fugitives, transport migrants, and guard detention centers. Although a court initially deemed this unlawful, that ruling was blocked and Trump has continued to deploy more troops. At the same time, Trump has reversed long-standing conduct, now actively encouraging ICE to make arrests in “sensitive” locations such as schools, churches, hospitals, and courthouses, effectively taking away the few sanctuaries where immigrants could once feel safe. This is not just a policy, it’s an attack on human dignity and community.
In looking at both terms, it’s chillingly clear that Trump’s first term was only the foundation. Those four years were marked by chaos, relentless legal battles, and images of indefensible cruelty that shocked the nation, including widespread ICE raids, traumatic family separations, and horrifying images of children in cages.That first term showed us exactly how far he could push legal boundaries, and how the country might absorb and normalize even the most shocking consequences. But this second term is different. What was once experimental has now become a part of our system. These policies aren’t just temporary, they’re designed to be permanently embedded in American law, built to outlast any future administration and cement his vision.
But this isn’t just about enforcement. It’s about systematic exclusion. It’s an even deeper, more insidious attempt to define who gets to be American. And ultimately, no other group feels this truth more profoundly and painfully than Hispanic communities. These new policies aren’t just legal maneuvers, these are the lived realities of constant fear, tearing apart families, and fracturing entire neighborhoods.
And for immigrants like me, these aren’t just headlines or debates, this isn’t just policy. It’s personal.
At just three years old, my single mother brought my sister and I from Ecuador, leaving behind everything and everyone we knew. To us, coming to America meant more opportunities, a better future. It meant a new sense of freedom that we believed we would never experience in my country.
Growing up, I was proud to be an immigrant, sharing my story to anyone who would listen. At that age, I didn’t realize how deeply this part of my identity would come to define me over time. As a first-generation immigrant, I watched my mother work harder than anyone I knew, tirelessly studying to get her masters degree, working jobs where she would make a fraction of what she deserved simply because she was a Hispanic woman, all while bravely raising her two daughters alone in a foreign country. For almost a decade, we were legal residents. We paid taxes just like everyone else, often more than citizens. But even with that, we weren’t eligible for the same protections or security, we weren’t eligible for the same peace of mind.
When Trump first ran for office, we knew there was a possibility of things getting harder. Tragically, the future we imagined and feared then has now become our reality. I vividly remember being nine years old, sitting in the car helping my mother study for her citizenship test, making sure she sounded “American enough,” while we both prayed she would pass so we didn’t have to live in fear anymore. After eight long, anxious years of living in the U.S, she did it. We became citizens. We truly thought the constant fear we felt would finally end there.
But it didn’t.
Because even now, that gnawing fear is still there, every single day. Trump’s new immigration plans don’t just target undocumented people, they affect all Hispanics. ICE raids are no longer confined to border towns or workplaces. They now happen in places that were once considered safe, places like schools, churches, hospitals, even on my own college campus. Even at a place that I’m meant to feel safe, I’m reminded by the university president to carry my ID, to have something ready so we don’t become the next headline “Hispanic citizens detained for not having ID”, being stopped and questioned simply because we “look undocumented.” Even with my citizenship, I’m not free of this constant fear. No one in my community is.
When people discuss and debate these issues, dismissing them as “just laws or policies,” I often imagine what it would be like to be them, to possess that privilife. I imagine what it would be like to wake up every day feeling genuinely safe, knowing there isn’t any chance of being racially profiled or hearing devastating news about someone you know and love being deported. I imagine what it would be like to never experience the feeling of being unsafe in my own country, even when I’ve done everything “right.”
These new immigration proposals aren’t just policy shifts, they’re a clear, brutal message. They’re an undeniable message to all immigrants who aren’t white that no matter how long we’ve lived here, no matter what we’ve contributed to society, no matter how “American” we try to be we may never truly belong.
And that message, that deeply ingrained systemic exclusion, is what makes this new term more dangerous than anything U.S history has ever seen before.
Rafaella Esparza Tello is an undergraduate student at Boston University with a focus on Political Science and Business Administration. She’s an Institute for Liberal Studies intern.
