We’re Resting, But I Hope We’re Still Watching: Why Black America Should Care About Immigration
I get it. I really do. After everything—the organizing, the soul-deep protesting, the record voter turnout—we showed up. Again. As a community, Black Americans carried the weight of yet another election on their backs, trusting that this time, maybe something would shift. Maybe we would see the kind of bold leadership we’ve always deserved. Once again, we were met with disappointment. With policy walk-backs. With performative gestures instead of real action. So, it didn’t surprise me when I saw that 92% of Black voters have chosen to rest—to sit out of protests and advocacy work that doesn’t directly center our issues. I understand it. I’ve felt it.
Because I, too, voted.
As a Black American.
As an African immigrant.
As someone at the intersection of two often-forgotten identities.
I live in that hyphenated space. I am both. And I’m tired too. But I’m also deeply worried. While many of us are resting—and rightfully so—something is happening that we cannot afford to ignore: Black immigrants are under attack, and they are being erased from the national conversation on immigration altogether.
When We Talk About Immigration, We Must Talk About Blackness
When most people hear “immigration,” they think of the U.S.–Mexico border. They imagine Spanish-speaking migrants seeking asylum. Yes, those stories are urgent and important. But they are not the only stories. The immigrant community includes Afro-Latinos, Haitians, Nigerians, Ghanaians, Ethiopians, and Jamaicans. We speak different languages, practice different faiths, and come from different homelands—but we are all Black. And that matters because when race intersects with immigration, the outcomes are often harsher and more violent.
Black immigrants make up only 6% of people in ICE detention, but we account for nearly 28% of abuse reports—including solitary confinement, medical neglect, and verbal and physical abuse. Black immigrants are more likely to be deported for minor infractions, more likely to face criminalization, and less likely to receive fair hearings. We are disproportionately targeted, caged, and silenced. This isn’t hypothetical. It’s happening now. Quietly. Brutally.
A New Travel Ban That Feels Like a Slap in the Face
As if that weren’t enough, Trump is proposing an expansion of his already discriminatory travel ban. The updated list? A lineup of predominantly Black countries: Nigeria, my own native land of Liberia, Sudan, Ethiopia, Haiti, and others in Africa and the Caribbean. Let’s call it what it is: a ban on Blackness wrapped in national security language. It’s gutting, because for me—and for so many of us—this isn't just political. It’s deeply personal. I still remember the collective energy and pride many of us felt when we imagined a Black woman president. Kamala Harris—born to immigrant parents, one of them Jamaican—was a symbol of possibility. Even if you had critiques of her politics, you couldn’t deny the magnitude of what her rise represented. However, this country recoiled from that idea, and many of us felt it like a hot slap. That rejection—of her, of us—still lingers. So yes, we are resting. But I hope we’re still watching.
Black Immigrants Are Still Black People
I say this with love, from one Black person to another: Please don’t forget us. Don’t let the narrative around immigration trick you into thinking this isn’t your issue. Because when ICE detains a Haitian mother in Texas, that’s your issue. When a Jamaican father is deported over a decades-old marijuana charge, that’s your issue. When Trump builds a policy that bars Ethiopians from ever stepping foot on U.S. soil, that’s your issue. Black immigrants don’t stop being Black when they cross a border. The systems that oppress African Americans in this country are the same ones that criminalize Black immigrants—sometimes more harshly, sometimes more invisibly. This isn’t about pity. It’s about solidarity.
Diaspora Wars Are a Distraction—and a Dangerous One
Too often, I see us—Black Americans, African immigrants, Afro-Caribbeans, Afro-Latinos—caught in petty online battles about who is more “authentically” Black, who “sold” whom, who did or didn’t support whom, who looks down on whom, etc. These so-called “Diaspora Wars” might trend on social media, but they do absolutely nothing for our liberation. In fact, they do the opposite. They are a tool. A distraction. A divide-and-conquer strategy that weakens us right when we need each other most. White supremacy doesn’t care what flag you wave. It doesn’t ask where your grandparents were born. It sees your skin, your lineage, your resistance—and tries to crush it, and we cannot fight that with infighting. We cannot afford to. Our struggle is collective. So, our liberation has to be collective, too.
We Can’t Afford to Be Divided
I’m not asking African-Americans to give up your rest. You deserve it. We all do. What I am asking is for you to expand your view of who Black immigrants are as a people. I’m asking you to remember that Blackness is not monolithic—it is global. When immigration policy becomes a tool of racial violence, we need the strength of our entire community to fight back. We are one body, and when one part suffers, the whole suffers. Let’s not wait until the suffering is knocking at your door to care, because by then, it might be too late.
With love and urgency,
A Black American voter and African immigrant who still believes in us ✊🏾
What You Can Do
Whether you’re ready to show up in a big way or just want to stay informed, your voice matters. Here are some ways you can stand in solidarity with Black immigrants and advocate for just immigration policies:
1. Educate Yourself and Others
Follow and share the work of Black immigrant-led organizations, like:
African Communities Together (https://africans.us/) – Empowering African immigrant communities through advocacy and direct services.
BAJI – Black Alliance for Just Immigration (https://baji.org/) – Leading on racial justice and immigrant rights through a Black lens.
Read up on the facts:
“The State of Black Immigrants” report by NYU Law and BAJI (PDF) (https://www.stateofblackimmigrants.com/assets/sobi-fullreport-jan22.pdf) – A comprehensive look at how Black immigrants are uniquely impacted.
“Black Immigrants in the United States: A Statistical Portrait” by the Pew Research Center(https://www.pewresearch.org/short-reads/2022/04/14/black-immigrants-in-the-u-s/) – Updated demographic data.
2. Speak Up When It Matters
Use your platforms to talk about Black immigrants. Post, tweet, write, or share information that challenges the one-dimensional view of who immigrants are.
Challenge anti-immigrant and anti-Black rhetoric in your communities—whether it’s online, in family conversations, or in organizing spaces.
3. Support and Donate
If you have the means, consider giving to organizations doing frontline work for Black immigrants. Even small donations help keep legal aid, mental health support, and advocacy work going.
4. Push for Policy Change
Stay involved (even in small ways) in pushing for just policies:
* Support the New Way Forward Act, which challenges mass criminalization and ends mandatory detention and deportation for minor offenses.
* Use tools like 5 Calls (https://5calls.org/) or Resistbot (https://resist.bot/) to contact your representatives about:
* Ending racist immigration bans
* Supporting pathways to citizenship
* Cutting funding to ICE and private detention centers
5. Show Up in Solidarity
* Attend local actions, vigils, or town halls focused on immigration and detention issues.
* Volunteer your time with mutual aid networks or legal aid orgs that serve Black immigrant families.
* Amplify campaigns led by immigrants—especially Black women, queer folks, and youth.
No action is too small when it comes from a place of love and solidarity.
We are stronger together, and while rest is necessary, so is remembrance—of who we are, who we’ve always been, and what we’re capable of when we move as one.
If you are seeking therapeutic support around these issues, or you’re an immigrant in need of a psychological evaluation to support your immigration case, I’m here to help.