Greisa Martínez Rosas, executive director of United We Dream: ‘This isn’t just about undocumented migrants, but whether we’re going to be able to maintain democracy’

Greisa Martínez Rosas, the executive director of United We Dream — the largest network of young migrants in the United States — witnessed a group of students, as she was leaving school, place a garbage bag over a friend’s head. “They spun him around and around and yelled, ‘Go back to Mexico.’”

She has another memory from that same time, of a phone call she received during her first year of college, when she was preparing to return home to Texas for spring break in 2007. “My mom told me, ‘They got him.’ That was all. She and I knew what she was talking about. It was the family’s recurring nightmare, that one of us would be separated from our family for being a migrant.”

Her father, a man who at that time was the same age Rosas is now, 37, who brought her to the United States from Mexico as a child, the carpenter who supported her and her three younger sisters, had been arrested for not having a license to drive the old pickup truck he used to get to work every day. He was later deported.

Rosas’ long journey on the path of activism begins there, in those memories, and it’s not over yet. Especially not now: “My story is what gives me the courage and strength to continue, but it’s not unique; millions have experienced it.”

When her father was facing deportation, no one in the family knew anything about the law, lawyers, or how much such things cost. “We had to learn very quickly, and unfortunately, we didn’t have good legal advice.” The $5,000 the family borrowed to avoid deportation was useless. So life changed. “The head of the family, the one who brought money home, was gone. My mom had to start working, the bills were impossible to pay, my sisters were little, it was such a difficult time.” The following year, her mother was diagnosed with cancer, so Rosas had to drop out of school.

Today she is convinced that the burden a migrant carries is built upon the systemic ills of the United States. “It’s the story of how systems are working together to make life difficult for migrants,” she asserts. “It’s not just migration; it’s also about access to healthcare and higher education. That’s why I joined United We Dream.”

Since 2010, the organization, 60% of whose members are women and 20% identify as LGBTQ+, has worked to help, support, and empower young migrants. Now, United We Dream, in conjunction with the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) and Abundant Futures Fund (AFF), has launched an unprecedented initiative: the Our Neighbors Defense Fund, which aims to raise at least $30 million to financially support legal organizations.

“We set out to do something new for our organizations,” Rosas says. “The hope is that millions of people will feel inspired to do something different right now, to be part of the solution. We know this is an opportunity for those who feel hopeless, who don’t know what to do, or who are perhaps afraid to take to the streets and participate in the protests.”

Less than three months had passed since Donald Trump’s return to the White House when the new administration made an announcement that would leave many in limbo: federal programs that sustained organizations and groups, which in turn helped thousands of migrants navigate the U.S. justice system, were canceled. Many of these migrants were minors who, without resources, have now had to appear before a judge alone. The toll, according to Rosas, is incalculable.

“The price is also some lives we’ve lost while they were in detention centers, waiting for a lawyer to have a hearing with a judge,” she says. “This is a matter of life or death for many people. Every month, we announce the deaths of approximately one or two migrants in detention centers, from different causes, but what they all have in common is that they were detained. It’s not normal. Unfortunately, this is a moment that our history books will record, and we all have to have an answer to the question: What did you do when people were suffering like this? None of us are safe; the only salvation is for us to stand together as a community, to reach out to one another. And this fund and our organization are two answers to how to do that.”

In a country with 11 million households that have at least one family member at risk of detention or deportation, where many lack the funds to afford legal representation, this fund, according to its founders, “will help ensure that immigrant families facing the threat of unjust separation, detention, and deportation have access to lawyers.” To date, they have raised over $12 million. Individual donations have totaled approximately $250,000 from some 10,000 people across the country.

“This is an opportunity for them to take action, to help our families,” Rosas says. “Today there are undocumented youths in detention centers, children forced to represent themselves before an immigration judge. So this is a legal emergency to guarantee due process, which is so fundamental to democracy. Because what is happening is not only going to affect immigrants, it’s going to affect all of us.”

According to Rosas, the money they receive goes immediately to the organizations they support. “What’s striking about this fund is that the money raised has come mostly from individuals, whether they have a lot or a little.” The activist — who has personally felt the impact of deportation and has fought more than one battle for the migrant community in the country, including for the “Dreamers,” which later led her to become a DACA (Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals) recipient — has no doubt that the United States is experiencing unprecedented events.

“The people in control of this government want unlimited power, without consequences. Many people came to this country fleeing authoritarian governments, and that’s what’s happening here now. It’s something that hasn’t happened at this level before,” she maintains. “This isn’t just about whether you’re undocumented or not; we’re seeing young people born in this country being detained by ICE [Immigration and Customs Enforcement], [and the administration is] using immigration to give unlimited power and money to agencies like that. So we have to act with great courage, with great clarity, and understand that this isn’t just about undocumented people or migrants, but about whether or not we’re going to be able to maintain democracy.”

Rosas has felt the weight of the hatred that keeps American society so polarized today. At the beginning of the year, in front of thousands of listeners, she acknowledged that she had lived as an undocumented immigrant in the country, and that, nevertheless, she “wasn’t afraid.” That was enough for several members of the MAGA movement to turn against her after the talk.

“They used my image, demanded my deportation, and tried to humiliate me. And although I lived in great fear this year, I’m not actually afraid,” she says. “I’ve survived difficult things. I’m not 17 anymore. I’ve been part of a student movement that has had victories and changed the trajectory of this country. My intention is that even if people feel afraid right now, in the future they’ll understand that we survived this together. That’s why I work every day.”

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