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34 Weeks: Cecilia’s Story of Survival, Tenacity, and Forging Ahead

Cecilia was 34 weeks pregnant, the marks of domestic violence still fresh on her mind and her body, when she realized that she needed to run.

Her daughter, Olivia, was not yet born, but the threats from her partner had become severe. He physically harmed Cecilia, leaving her injured, and then took her phone to delete the photo evidence before anyone could see it. When the abuse escalated to include threats against her unborn child, Cecilia knew that staying in El Salvador was no longer an option. She fled her home country and made the long journey to the United States, seeking nothing more than a safe harbor for her family.

Facing Betrayal and Injustice 

Graphic of woman navigating legal stress.

Like with so many immigrants, arriving in the United States was only the beginning of a different kind of fight. Cecilia managed to reach Los Angeles working hard to build a life. She paid attorneys what little money she had saved to help her navigate her legal journey, trusting them in good faith to protect her best interests. Unfortunately, that trust was broken. The lawyers took her money but failed to submit her asylum paperwork to the judge.

Because of their negligence, Cecilia missed crucial court dates, which she never knew existed. As a result, she was forced to wear an immigration ankle monitor and was ultimately issued a deportation order. In a single stroke, Cecilia felt her world crashing down around her. 

With an ankle monitor restricting her movement and no work permit to legally support her daughter, Cecilia was trapped in a cycle of instability. She moved from house to house, living with relatives who mistreated them and mishandled their few belongings. 

What makes Cecilia’s story both so difficult and important is that it is not an isolated incident. She followed the rules, sought legal help and did everything in her power to comply with the law. However, the system did not account for the immense failures of her representation or the trauma she was actively fleeing. It was unfeeling and mechanical. It issued an order to send her back to the very country and the very abusers she risked everything to escape.

Across the country, families who have built lives in good faith are finding themselves unprotected and afraid. For Cecilia, the cruelty of injustice was twofold: she was victimized first by her abuser, and then again by the legal counsel she paid to protect her.

Finding a Lifeline With ALMA

Graphic of hands cupping a mother and daughter dancing bellow a quote.

Recognizing that her daughter was no longer safe, Cecilia knew she had to make the move to San Francisco. Cecilia and her little girl made their way to a local convent shelter in hopes of finally having a safe place to stay. Despite the immense pressure of her deportation order, Cecilia kept all her problems to herself, never sharing them with anyone. One day, a staff member at her daughter’s school noticed Cecilia had all of her belongings with her and asked her how she was doing. Cecilia finally shared the details of the difficulties she was living through and the situation that led her to move into a shelter. It was that conversation that led them to share information about MAF’s ALMA program.

Cecilia had never heard of the ALMA program. She never imagined that this type of support existed for people caught in the web of deportation. Skeptical but driven by a desire to protect her daughter, she took a leap of faith and applied for the program on her own. When ALMA turned out to be a genuine lifeline, Cecilia felt a real sense of relief. Cecilia was very intentional with the funds she received. She prioritized the basics that are too easily taken for granted. She ensured Olivia had access to healthy, nutritious food. Providing these essentials did more than just fill a stomach; it helped Cecilia feel in control again, allowing her to reclaim her role as a provider for her child.

Beyond stabilizing their immediate daily life, the funds also offered a vital cushion for their future. Cecilia carefully managed the remainder of the grant. She built a dedicated fund to secure the good legal help she so desperately needs to reopen her asylum case. ALMA gave Cecilia an opportunity to right the wrongs caused by the dishonest lawyer she first encountered.

Today, living in the quiet safety of the convent, Cecilia and Olivia have finally found a version of peace. There are no threats, no violence, and no one hiding or destroying Olivia’s toys.

“I feel more at peace there,” Cecilia said, reflecting on their new surroundings. “Nobody bothers her. It is peace for her.”

That is what ALMA does. It cannot instantly fix a broken immigration system or undo past trauma, but it ensures that in the moments when families are most exposed, they have the financial breathing room to stabilize and fight back.

Fighting Back With Faith

Cecilia’s journey has been marked by pain, both personal and from the systemic, but her spirit remains undefeated.

Graphic of mother and daughter praying.

Her faith helps sustain her. She is Catholic, with a deep devotion to the Virgin of Guadalupe, a belief her mother passed down to her when she was a child in El Salvador. Now, living in a convent, she joins in prayer whenever she can. Olivia has picked up on this, too, often calling on her mom to join the nuns in prayer. 

When asked what gives her the strength to face an ongoing legal battle and an uncertain future, her answer came without hesitation.

“My daughter,” she said simply.

Olivia is the reason Cecilia gets up every day, and she is the reason Cecilia holds her head high. Her dream for the future is clear: she wants to secure her legal status, work hard, and see Olivia graduate from school, happy, safe, and free. As Cecilia simply puts it, “I just want to work, to get ahead with her.”

Why ALMA Is Important Now

Graphic of two women under an umbrella offering them protection.

Cecilia’s story is not a rare exception. It is the story of thousands of families across the country. They are navigating an immigration system that has become more inconsistent by the day.

Families like Cecilia’s do not need saving; they need solidarity. They need solid financial stability while they work with social workers. They need help finding reputable legal advocacy and guidance on how to navigate the steps to protect their children. ALMA provides direct cash support to families facing detention and deportation crises. It offers resources without complicated rules or judgment.

To other families who find themselves facing fear and financial instability, Cecilia offers a powerful message of solidarity:

“Give it your all,” she said. “Try to get ahead until you achieve what you want. Despite having difficult days, just never lower your head. Never.”

Support Families Like Cecilia’s

Graphic with quote of a mother and child walking into the horizon.

Cecilia’s journey toward legal security and permanent safety is still ongoing. Her legal case requires a motion to reopen, and the path ahead is steep, but she is moving forward with hope in her heart.

ALMA steps in to fill the gap for families like hers. It provides unconditional cash assistance in their most vulnerable moments. But this solidarity is only possible when our community chooses to support, fund and fight for these programs.

If you want to help others like Cecilia, then join us in this fight, and as she says, never lower your head. 

Two Detentions: One Family’s Fight to Stay Afloat

It was Monday morning. Like any other day, Ignacio stepped out of his home in Redwood City to walk his family’s dog.

As he left home, he noticed a few cars on his street that he had not seen before. They were big, each one lined up behind the other. He registered them but kept moving. “Who could they be here for?” he thought.

Ignacio felt uneasy during the walk and decided to make his way back home shortly after leaving. Before he could make it back to his house, the vehicles he had seen earlier pulled up next to him. Ten ICE agents. Not one or two. Ten got out of the vehicles and surrounded him.

When the agents encroached on him, Ignacio did not run or resist. “If I resist or get angry, they’ll treat me worse,” he thought.

Ignacio managed to call a cousin to take the dog and got into one of the unmarked vehicles he noticed earlier that morning.

Back at home, Maria waited for him, unaware of what had happened. In the days that followed, she struggled to reach her husband. She found herself navigating a system that offered few answers and was unpredictable.

Building a Life

Building a Life

Maria has lived in the Bay Area for 23 years. She left Mexico City at 34, shortly after Ignacio, who came ahead to find work. They left three children behind, promising to bring them within a year of their move. They kept that promise.

For most of her 23 years in the Bay Area, Maria has cleaned houses. First to survive, then to bring her kids over, then to keep them moving forward.

Maria is now in her 50s. Decades of physically demanding work have taken a toll on her body. Arthritis, in particular, has made repetitive movements painful, forcing Maria to scale back her housecleaning work. At the same time, Ignacio faces his own battle. With his sixties on the horizon, a lifetime of grueling construction work has caught up to him. The physical demands of the job have forced him to slow down at the same time as Maria.

Amid rising living costs and reduced work hours, Maria and Ignacio struggled to make ends meet. To get by, they cut back wherever they could and limited spending to necessities.

Then the ICE raids began.

The Day ICE Came

The Day Ice Came

For months, Maria and Ignacio lived with a constant sense of fear. They worried that a routine trip to the grocery store or a drive to work could upend their lives. As uncertainty grew, they began to withdraw. They limited outings, stopped seeing friends and family as often, and rarely traveled far from home unless it was necessary. They spent most of their time outside of work at home with their son, Hector.

Hector arrived in the United States as a child. When the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) program launched over a decade ago, he was eligible to apply. Through DACA, Hector was able to work, attend school, and build a future with greater peace of mind. Over time, as his parents scaled back their work due to health concerns, Hector became the family’s primary provider. Amid growing immigration enforcement, he served as a source of stability and reassurance for his parents.

But Hector could not protect his father when ICE came.

In a matter of minutes, Ignacio was gone from the neighborhood he had called home for decades. ICE did not explain why he was being detained, where he was being taken, or what Maria and Hector should do next.

The hours that followed Ignacio’s detention were a blur of frantic phone calls and unanswered questions. Maria immediately began reaching out to friends, family members, and legal service providers, desperate for information and support. But finding help was difficult. She had no idea where Ignacio was being held and was unable to reach him for days.

A Warning From Inside

A warning from inside

Five days after ICE detained her husband, Maria was finally able to reach him by phone. The first thing Ignacio told her was a warning. When ICE detained him, agents had shown him a photo of their son, Hector. They had been looking for Hector but had encountered Ignacio instead.

Ignacio pleaded with Maria to keep Hector safe and to stay home as much as possible. He feared ICE would return to their neighborhood in search of their son and detain him. Maria promised she would do everything she could to protect him, but she knew there were limits to what she could control.

Now, Maria was carrying not only the anguish of her husband’s sudden detention, but also the fear that the same thing could happen to her son. Despite the uncertainty, she sprang into action. She contacted friends, family members, community organizations, and the Bay Area Rapid Response Network, determined to find legal support for Ignacio.

Lost in the System

Securing legal representation for Ignacio felt nearly impossible. He was first held at a local detention facility near Redwood City, then transferred to San Francisco. Just a few days later, he was moved again, this time to Hawaii.

Each transfer made it more difficult for Maria to understand what legal process her husband was facing and what support he needed. Ignacio was rarely given advance notice of where he would be sent next; often, he learned about a transfer only as it was happening.

The system was unpredictable and moved faster than Maria could keep up with. The lawyers Maria contacted quoted her thousands of dollars in fees for legal services. One quoted $25,000 total — but said he needed $3,000 to $4,000 upfront just to locate her husband and determine where he was being held. Another quoted $50,000 to pursue the case. No guarantees either way.

“Where am I going to get that kind of money?” she kept asking herself.

Ignacio’s repeated transfers created jurisdictional complications that were difficult to navigate. As a result, the nonprofit attorneys who had initially offered to take on his case were no longer able to represent him.

With each dead end, Maria felt increasingly overwhelmed. But she refused to give up hope, praying every day and holding on to the belief that Ignacio would return home.

A Brief Reunion

A Brief Reunion

When Ignacio was transferred to Hawaii, he was assigned a court-appointed attorney who represented him at a hearing. He told the truth about his case: how he had entered the United States on a visa, how long he had lived in the country, and the life he had built alongside his wife and children.

The judge set bond at $7,000. Knowing that detention and bond conditions could change quickly, Maria and Hector acted fast. Ignacio’s brother lent them the money, and they paid the bond immediately.

At last, Ignacio was released and able to make his way home to Redwood City. But only a few weeks after Ignacio’s return home, ICE came back. This time, for Hector.

A Second Detention

ICE took Hector to a detention center in Bakersfield, arguing that his DACA status was no longer valid. There, he remained in detention for four months.

A Second Detention

Hector’s detention was devastating for Maria and Ignacio. Their lives had only recently been upended by Ignacio’s detention, and now they were facing a similar nightmare once again. This time, however, ICE had taken the family’s primary provider.

Without Hector, Maria and Ignacio struggled to cover necessary living expenses. Hector contributed roughly 75% of the household’s income, making it possible for the family to pay rent, buy groceries, and stay afloat. With their own health issues limiting their ability to work, Maria and Ignacio had little opportunity to make up for the lost income. And after borrowing $7,000 from Ignacio’s brother, turning to family for additional financial support was no longer a realistic option.

On the day ICE detained Hector, he called his mother from custody. Overwhelmed with guilt, he apologized repeatedly. Hector blamed himself for leaving his parents without a provider and without savings to fall back on. Maria did her best to reassure him, but she was heartbroken and frightened herself. Having only recently navigated Ignacio’s detention, she now faced the prospect of going through the ordeal all over again.

Finding ALMA

After Ignacio’s detention, Maria started attending events hosted by Faith in Action. These events brought together families navigating the aftermath of the detention and deportation of loved ones. Through these gatherings, Maria heard about ALMA.

Maria was initially skeptical of the program. She had never received support like this and didn’t know anyone who had. At the time, she was overwhelmed by everything happening in her life and unsure she had the capacity to navigate a lengthy application process. But hearing about the program from someone she trusted—someone who also offered to help her apply—gave her the confidence to take the next step.

Finding ALMA

To Maria’s surprise, the application process was much simpler than she had expected. The intake interview with MAF’s team felt less like an assessment and more like a conversation with a friend. Rather than feeling scrutinized, Maria felt supported and encouraged throughout the call.

“She gave me so much encouragement,” Maria said, reflecting on her conversation with MAF’s program staff.

What the Support Made Possible

When ICE detained Hector, one of the biggest financial concerns that kept Maria up at night was rent. Maria and Ignacio could not afford it even when combining their incomes. Staying with family was not an option; they were struggling to stay afloat as well. Keeping a roof over their heads was no longer guaranteed without Hector’s income.

As the bills piled up and the uncertainty stretched on, Maria received a call. The ALMA grant she applied for was on the way. When they received it, paying rent was their first priority. 

“When someone helps with rent, you can finally think about what comes next,” Maria said.

Once Maria and Ignacio covered the rent, they finally had the breathing room to focus on their next steps. Together, they could begin planning how they would make ends meet in the months ahead and how they could continue supporting their son.

“[ALMA] is such a wonderful program,” Maria said. “I am so grateful.”

Why ALMA Matters Now

Maria’s story is pervasive. In neighborhoods across the country, families who have lived here for decades, working, raising children, paying rent, and building community, are finding that none of it shields them from immigration enforcement actions that upend their lives without warning.

Deportation raids and heightened immigration enforcement cause not only emotional upheaval but also immediate financial instability. Last year, a MAF survey of immigrant families laid bare this reality: over 80% of immigrant families reported a sudden loss of income as heightened enforcement disrupted their ability to work. This economic shockwave immediately impacts everyday life, with 75% of families struggling to buy groceries and 82% struggling to pay their rent or mortgages.

When a loved one is detained or a parent can no longer work due to fear, families are left scrambling to pay the bills and navigate an uncertain future. In those moments, ALMA provides up to $3,000 in unrestricted financial support. These funds allow families to focus on their next steps without the immediate fear of losing their housing or being unable to purchase groceries.

Support Families Like Maria’s

Support Families Like Maria's

Months after her husband’s and son’s detentions, Maria’s family is still rebuilding. Ignacio is navigating his immigration case. Hector is living in Mexico following his deportation. Meanwhile, Maria continues to carry the emotional and financial weight of their separation. The stress has taken a toll on her health, and the debt from legal expenses remains a burden on the family.

Yet despite everything, Maria has not lost hope. She continues to remind herself, “This is temporary. This will pass.” Those words, along with her faith and the support of her community, give her the strength to keep moving forward and the hope that better days lie ahead.

When asked what she would say to other families going through something similar, she didn’t hesitate:

“Don’t give up. Look for this program. They support you both emotionally and financially.”

By supporting ALMA, you can stand alongside families like Maria’s as they rebuild. Your support helps ensure that families facing detention and deportation have access to flexible financial assistance and trusted community support when they need it most. Not because these families lack strength or determination, but because no one should have to face a crisis alone..

46 Days: Marjona’s Story of Faith, Family, and Fighting Back

Marjona was seven months pregnant, alone in a small studio apartment with her one-year-old baby, when her husband was taken.

It was November 24th. Her husband had been running late to an ICE check-in appointment, far from the office, when he realized the time. He called ahead. They told him it was fine to come on Monday instead. He showed up on Monday, as promised. He was detained on the spot, transferred to California City detention center, and just like that, Marjona’s world collapsed.

Her husband had lived in the Bay Area for five years. He had never missed a check-in, never had a violation, never given ICE reason to question his compliance. It didn’t matter. In a moment, the provider for their young family was gone.

Marjona was left alone, in her third trimester of pregnancy, with no income, a toddler to care for, and a legal fight to somehow navigate.

When the System Offers No Grace

The weeks that followed were, by any measure, impossible.

Her husband had been the family’s sole earner, driving for his limo company while managing their daily life. Now, their rent was unpaid. The apartment they had been planning to move to fell through. They lost roughly $6,000 in the process.

A friend of her husband’s stepped in to help cover some costs, but it was a loan, not a lifeline. Legal fees for attorneys and immigration counsel mounted quickly. The family borrowed what they could. The debt grew.

Marjona tried to visit her husband at the detention center. She made an appointment. But she was late in her pregnancy, caring for a one-year-old, and couldn’t make it work. They spoke by video chat when they could, once, maybe twice a week, and even from inside a detention facility, he tried to hold her up.

“He was supporting me even while being in detention,” she said quietly.

On January 8th, Marjona gave birth. On January 9th, her husband was released, with the help of the legal advocacy organization. He came home to meet his newborn child.

There is no word for what those 46 days were. But Marjona lived them.

A System That Moves Without Warning

What makes Marjona’s story so difficult, and so important, is how ordinary it is in its injustice.

Her husband’s detention was not the result of a crime. He was not a flight risk. He had been faithfully showing up to ICE appointments for five years. He was detained because he was late, and then came in voluntarily the very next business day. The system did not account for the difference. It moved mechanically, with no consideration for the human life it was about to fracture.

“Today’s world is different, I guess,” Marjona said, reflecting on how the climate has shifted. “This year it’s more difficult.”

She is right. Across the country, families who have followed every rule, checked every box, and built lives in good faith are finding that none of it is protection enough. The rules keep changing. The enforcement keeps escalating. And the people who bear the weight of that uncertainty are not abstract policy subjects, but people like Marjona, just looking to live a fair life.

Finding ALMA in the Hardest Moments

Marjona first heard about MAF’s ALMA program when she ended up in the emergency room. Her blood pressure had spiked dangerously from the stress. The hospital connected her with a rapid response line, which mentioned Mission Asset Fund. At the time, she was too deep in a depression to follow up.

She found ALMA again later through her immigration attorney’s office. She almost didn’t apply — because she didn’t believe it was real.

“At first I thought, it didn’t seem real. I didn’t think you were going to help me. There are lots of programs that make it more difficult for people, and it’s not actually possible to get help from them.”

But the application process was different from anything she had expected. It was straightforward, accessible, and human. The MAF team member she worked with was warm and patient. No pressure, no interrogation, no barriers designed to trip her up.

“I didn’t feel any pressure. I really liked her personality. She was so kind, so polite, just talking sincerely. I appreciated everything you guys made so easy and natural.”

When the grant came through, Marjona and her husband used it for what mattered most: daily necessities. Food. Essentials for the babies. Not rent or car payments: just the basics of keeping a family going while they rebuilt from debt and tried to stay ahead of what came next.

“This grant is really helping us with our life expenses,” she said. “Food and things necessary for our babies.”

That is what ALMA was built to do. Not to solve everything. Not to fix a broken system. But to make sure that in the moments when families are most exposed, the financial floor doesn’t give out while they fight.

Held Up by Faith

Marjona is Muslim. Her faith is not a backdrop to her story; it is the architecture of how she survived it.

“I really believe in my religion. We believe that God helps in difficult times. In this life, nothing happens without reason.”

She describes herself and her husband as genuinely positive people, the kind who look for the hopeful thing even when it’s hard to find. Even from behind a detention center screen, he was the one encouraging her.

And when asked what has given her the most hope during all of this, her answer was immediate.

“Being a mom. It’s a huge inspiration. I think it’s the biggest hope and happiness.”

Her children (a toddler and a newborn who entered the world on the eve of their father’s release) are the reason she gets up every day. They are also the reason she fights.

What Comes Next

Marjona’s family is still navigating the aftermath. Her husband continues attending ICE check-ins. The legal process is ongoing. The debt from those months has not disappeared.

But Marjona has not stopped moving forward.

She is one year away from finishing her bachelor’s degree in business administration. She is thinking about starting her own business, following in the entrepreneurial spirit of a husband who dreams of expanding his company and hiring drivers.

During his detention, she reached out to her senators, emailed two of them, heard back from one, who applied pressure on ICE, and connected her with additional resources. She found attorneys through the bar association. She kept searching, kept pushing, kept asking for help even when she wasn’t sure help would come.

She did all of this with a newborn, a toddler, a husband behind bars, and a stack of debt. She did it because she had no other choice.

Why ALMA Exists Right Now

Marjona’s story is not rare. It is not an edge case. It is the story of thousands of families across the country facing an immigration enforcement environment that has become increasingly punishing, increasingly sudden, and increasingly indifferent to the lives it disrupts.

Families like Marjona’s don’t need saving. They need solidarity. They need the financial breathing room to keep fighting for themselves. ALMA provides direct cash support to families navigating immigration detention and deportation crises — without bureaucratic barriers, without judgment, and without making people prove they deserve help before receiving it.

The program operates on a simple principle: families like Marjona’s don’t need saving. They need solidarity. They need the financial breathing room to keep fighting for themselves.

When Marjona was asked what she would say to other families going through something similar, she didn’t hesitate.

“I would definitely recommend this program. I would talk about my experience with you and your team. I never thought such programs exist on earth. This is one of the best programs during such difficult times.”

Support Families Like Marjona’s

Marjona’s story is not over. Neither is the crisis facing immigrant families across this country.

ALMA is one of the few programs stepping directly into that gap, providing cash assistance, without conditions, to families in their most vulnerable moments. But programs like this only exist because people choose to fund them, amplify them, and fight for them.

If Marjona’s story moved you, don’t let that feeling go unused. Because, as Marjona reminds us, nothing happens without reason. And help, when it comes, changes everything.

72 Hours: One Family’s Fight Against Deportation

Angela was at the park with her children on a Monday afternoon when her phone rang. It was July 14th. Her husband’s voice came through: “Me llegó el ICE.” (“ICE got me.”) In that moment, everything changed.

Angela didn’t freeze. She couldn’t. She rushed home and immediately started calling: family, friends, anyone who could help. She needed documents: marriage certificates, birth certificates, anything that could prove their life together. As she gathered papers with shaking hands, she was already planning her next move. This wasn’t just about understanding what had happened; it was about fighting for her family.

By the time Angela reached the detention site, her husband was already gone. The car (registered in her name) sat empty.

She later learned about the arrest through video footage, and in an act of both defiance and community care, she posted it on TikTok. She wasn’t looking for sympathy. She was seeking answers and wanted to help others who might face the same nightmare.

When the System Moves Faster Than Hope

What Angela didn’t know on that day was just how quickly everything would fall apart.

She was told to expect a call from a government-appointed attorney. She was told she would be able to see her husband. But when she arrived at the office, it had already closed; earlier than she’d been informed. When an attorney finally did reach out, the news wasn’t reassuring. There was mention of a $3,000 fee just to get basic questions answered. Nothing about the process made sense.

Then came the explanation that changed everything.

Angela’s husband had an outstanding deportation order from 2018. He had missed a court hearing—not because he chose to avoid it, but because he was never notified. The immigration system’s complex and often inaccessible processes had left him in the dark, unaware that a hearing had even been scheduled. And now, years later, that missed court date had become the legal justification for tearing apart the family they had built together.

By Tuesday, Angela discovered her husband was no longer at the detention center. He had been moved that same afternoon. Just three days after that phone call at the park, he was in Guatemala. In between were stops in Arizona: a blur of facilities and processing centers, offering no time, no information, and no chance to say goodbye.

Seventy-two hours. That’s all it took to separate a family by thousands of miles.

Survival in the Aftermath

Today, Angela’s husband is with his mother and sisters in Guatemala. He works in the fields, picking corn. He has support there, but it’s not the same as being home. It’s not the same as being with his children.

Angela still has nightmares. The trauma of those days lingers in ways that are hard to articulate. But she refuses to be defined by what was done to her family. She is focused, grateful, and determined—three qualities she named as essential to moving forward.

“Focus…Being focused on what you really want…If you stay focused, you can achieve anything.”

She is not alone in this fight. Organizations like MAF and Faith in Action have stepped in to provide financial and legal support. In a recent survey of 1,200 families impacted by immigration enforcement, the most critical needs are legal information and support, financial assistance for basic expenses, and emotional support. All of which Angela has sought out and continues to navigate.

“ALMA is super beneficial. It has helped me a lot. [It] made me feel like a very important person,” Angela shared. ALMA was designed specifically for people enduring these tough times. Through ALMA, Angela received direct cash assistance to help cover immediate expenses during this crisis—money that gave her breathing room to focus on the legal fight ahead rather than worrying about putting food on the table or keeping the lights on.

But the program didn’t just provide resources: it recognized her dignity and agency. The support came without judgment, without barriers, and with the recognition that she was already doing everything she could. It reminded her that trying, even when the odds feel impossible, is never a waste. The program operates on the principle that families like Angela’s don’t need saving—they need solidarity and the tools to keep fighting for themselves.

Why She Shares Her Story

Angela could have stayed silent. Many people do, out of fear or exhaustion or the belief that no one will listen. But Angela believes in the power of empathy.

“Well, more and more people have to know. They have to feel for that person. Empathy, right? It’s like having empathy. So that’s why I like to share,” she explained.

The more people know, the more they feel for those going through these experiences, the harder it becomes to look away.

When Angela shares her story, something happens in her body. She feels it: a weight, a release, a sense of purpose.

“When you share your story, more and more, well, you kind of feel a great effort in your body, right?” It’s not easy. But it’s necessary.

Her message to others facing similar challenges is simple but profound: “I will tell them, I am with you. You will always face tests in life, but look, they are temporary. So you have to keep your head high always and be happy and expect more hope because more can come.” Life will always throw tests your way, but they are temporary. Keep your head high. Stay hopeful. More can come.

What This Means for All of Us

Angela’s story is not an outlier. It is one of thousands: families separated by a system that moves with mechanical efficiency and little regard for the human lives it disrupts. But her story also reveals something else: the resilience of people who refuse to be broken, and the power of community when it shows up.

Organizations like MAF exist because stories like Angela’s are far too common. They exist to stand with families, not as saviors, but as partners: offering tools, resources, and most importantly, recognition of people’s inherent dignity and strength. Angela didn’t need to be rescued. She needed support to continue the fight she was already waging.

A parent being ripped away from their children in 72 hours should never happen to anyone. But until the system changes, stories like Angela’s will continue. And so will the resistance.

Angela is still fighting. She’s working with attorneys, gathering documents, and building the case to bring her husband home. She’s raising her children, managing nightmares, and showing up every day with focus and gratitude. She’s sharing her story so that others know they’re not alone, and so that people who have never faced deportation might finally understand what it means.

This is what courage looks like. Not the absence of fear, but the refusal to let fear have the final word.

Join the Movement

If Angela’s story moved you, don’t let that feeling fade. Share it. Talk about it. Let it change how you think about immigration, family separation, and the people in your community who are fighting battles you may never see.

Learn more about how ALMA supports immigrant families navigating impossible systems. And if you’re in a position to give—whether that’s time, resources, or simply your attention—now is the time.

Donate to the ALMA Fund today and ensure that when the next phone call comes, a family doesn’t face it alone. Because, as Angela reminds us, more hope can come. But only if we create the conditions for it together.

Holding Her Family Together: Alicia’s Journey With ALMA

When immigration headlines speak of fear and uncertainty, stories like Alicia’s show us what hope looks like in action.

Across the country, millions of families live with quiet anxiety: parents afraid to drive to work, children hesitant to attend school, communities shrinking from public life. A recent national survey by MAF revealed that one in four immigrant families have faced direct encounters with ICE, and two-thirds have changed their daily lives to stay safe. Behind every number is a story like Alicia’s: one of strength, sacrifice, and the courage to keep going.

A Daughter’s Courage

Alicia grew up in public housing in San Francisco, the eldest sister and the anchor of her family. When her mother was suddenly detained just two days before her youngest sister’s eighth-grade graduation, Alicia didn’t have time to grieve or panic. She took charge.

She became the family’s voice, managing calls with lawyers, comforting her sisters, and keeping their home together. But even as she held everything together, Alicia faced a heavy truth so many families know: immigration detention can unravel an entire household financially, emotionally, and spiritually.

That’s when she learned about MAF’s ALMA program, a rapid-response program that provides cash assistance, financial coaching, and community support to families facing detention or deportation. A colleague encouraged her to apply. She hesitated at first but eventually filled out the form.

“I just went along with it,” Alicia remembers, “and it ended up being a great opportunity.”

Living Under Threat

Alicia’s story unfolds against a backdrop of heightened immigration enforcement. Across the country, families are changing their routines, avoiding public places, and struggling with the mental health toll of constant uncertainty.

Immigration enforcement ripples through entire communities, affecting children’s school attendance, workers’ willingness to report labor violations, and families’ access to healthcare. Many immigrants face an impossible choice: remain invisible and vulnerable, or seek help and risk exposure.

When her mother was detained, Alicia became the primary point of contact for her mother’s lawyer, handling communications from morning to night. MAF’s survey data reveals the scale of this disruption, with families canceling outings, missing community events, and avoiding social gatherings out of fear. This is the context in which programs like ALMA become lifelines.

A Process That Made Sense

For many immigrants navigating a crisis, applications can feel overwhelming: lengthy, complicated, and full of uncertainty. But Alicia found MAF’s process refreshingly different.

“Everything that was a part of the process was easy, and [MAF] also made it really easy by staying in communication.”

The speed and clarity stood out. Unlike other programs that require extensive documentation and long wait times, the application was straightforward. For someone juggling work, caring for her two younger sisters, and the stress of her mother’s immigration case, that efficiency mattered.

“Everything was pretty self-explanatory, and it was quick, which is something I like about it,” Alicia says. “Cause you know, sometimes other applications you have to put in a lot of information. So I think just getting straight to the point is very good.”

Through the ALMA program, MAF has worked to remove barriers that often keep immigrants from accessing support: high costs, confusing processes, and a lack of culturally relevant resources. By partnering with trusted community organizations, ALMA ensures that people like Alicia can access quality support without the fear and confusion that typically accompany emergencies.

More Than Just Financial Relief

What Alicia found through ALMA went beyond cash assistance. She found a community: a network of people who understood her experience and were genuinely invested in her success.

The program offered dignity, respect, and a clear path forward. For Alicia, who had always struggled with asking for help, this was transformative. It showed her that speaking up wasn’t a weakness but a strength she could teach her sisters.

This holistic approach is intentional. MAF understands that immigration emergencies impact every aspect of life: financial security, mental health, and family stability. ALMA extends this support through multiple pathways: rapid-response cash assistance, financial coaching, and connections to trusted community organizations.

The Toll of Living in Fear

Alicia’s experience reflects a broader reality documented in MAF’s research. The survey reveals how deeply immigration enforcement affects daily life, with parents keeping children home from school and workers avoiding hospitals, even in emergency situations. The psychological burden of this constant vigilance takes a profound toll on mental health, family relationships, and community cohesion.

For Alicia, this wasn’t just data; it was a personal connection. It was her life. She was managing a household, advocating for her mother, and trying to be both sister and mother to her younger siblings. She encouraged them to speak up when they had problems, recognizing a family pattern of remaining silent. And her story mirrors what many families are living: roughly a third of families seek mental health counseling to cope with stress and trauma, noting the particular toll on children who are growing up in fear.

Building a Foundation for the Future

Today, Alicia’s story is one of resilience and hope. Through MAF’s ALMA program, she gained more than emergency financial assistance: she gained peace of mind, security, and the confidence to plan for her future.

That future includes her dream of becoming a fashion designer, inspired by her 85-year-old great-grandmother from Honduras, who worked with OshKosh B’gosh and still visits San Francisco every six months to sew with Alicia. Through all the challenges, Alicia has learned to hold onto hope while acknowledging pain. She shares her grandmother’s wisdom: “Sometimes, whether we want stuff to happen or not, you just have to be grateful that it happened because maybe that might be a change to your life.”

Alicia is also clear-eyed about what families like hers need most: “I feel like it’s very important for people to, like, speak for themselves.” Finding one’s voice and accessing the right support at the right time can make all the difference between devastation and recovery.

She’s seen this transformation in her own sisters, who are starting to reach out for help at school, breaking the family pattern of silence. “If you have an issue, you know, speak up,” she tells them. “It’s good to speak up even though you might think you might say the wrong thing or whatever it is, but it’s good to just speak up and speak for yourself.”

Through it all, Alicia continues to care for her “zoo” at home, taking care of her family members and many pets, and finding moments of joy and normalcy even in difficult circumstances.

Alicia’s experience shows that sometimes the most powerful thing we can offer someone is a straightforward path, clear communication, and the message: You belong here. We’re with you.

Stand with Alicia, Stand with Immigrant Families

Alicia’s story is proof: when immigrant families get the right support at the right time, they don’t just survive—they can rebuild and thrive.

But we can’t do this alone.

Every family deserves the chance to live with dignity and security. The courage is already there. Families like Alicia’s prove it every day. What’s needed now is action.

If you’re ready to stand with immigrant families, donate to the ALMA Fund today. Your support keeps families together, preserves dignity in crisis, and builds a future where everyone belongs.

You can also make a difference by staying informed about immigration issues, sharing stories like Alicia’s with your network, or exploring partnership opportunities with MAF.

Together, we’re stronger. Together, we stay in the fight.