Migrant Says US Has 'No Obligation' to Help People Crossing Border

A Venezuelan migrant residing in the greater Denver area is working hard and praying that her arduous physical journey to the United States will bear the fruits of her labor, acknowledging that her newfound country has "no obligation" to help her or her family.

Rosmely Perez, joined by her husband, two children, sister and her sister's boyfriend, made the trek to the U.S. from Peru on July 31, 2023. She told Newsweek via WhatsApp that they all migrated in search of a better, safer life.

"We decided to travel to The United States since we had heard that it is a country of opportunities," said Perez in Spanish, according to a Google translation. "My trip was not easy. It lasted approximately three months where we suffered abuses in all possible ways."

The economic situation in her native country, coupled with a "fear of dying" following years of persecution and kidnapping at the hands of criminal gangs, led her and her family to several countries. After finding no success in their journey, they decided to head north.

They eventually entered the U.S. through Ciudad Juárez, a Mexican city on the Rio Grande just south of El Paso, Texas.

She and her husband were separated through detainment, which she says was because he is not the blood father of her children even though he raised them. He and her sister's boyfriend were already detained and deported once before. His case is still being adjudicated.

Her sister's boyfriend, 19, tried to cross illegally and drowned in the Rio Grande.

"I have nothing to say, only 'thank you' [to the U.S.] for receiving me and my family," she said. "They have no obligation to the migrant, but I do ask you to help us so that we can get our permits to work faster and [so] there are fewer families on the streets."

A lack of funding

The city of Denver, known as a sanctuary city in the same vein as New York City and Chicago, has experienced the largest per-capita surge of migrants since they began accepting and accommodating them in December 2022.

Due to federal inaction to bolster security on the U.S.-Mexico border and provide millions of dollars in additional funding, the aforementioned cities and others faced with annually increasing numbers of crossings and illegal entries have had to make tough decisions.

In the case of Denver, which has spent more than $69 million, the city is forging a new policy agenda that better coincides with all the different programs and departments that require steady funding flows.

Of the roughly $70 million spent towards migrants and associated services in the past year and a half, $25.06 million (36.49 percent) has gone towards housing/shelter and $20.47 million (29.81 percent) has gone towards payroll.

On May 6, Denver City Council unanimously approved a $1.369 million contract with a local nonprofit, ViVe, to provide services to migrants until the end of this year.

Journey through the jungle

Nickdaly Salazar, referred to as Nicky, is also a Venezuelan migrant living in the Denver area. She left Venezuela for many of the same reasons as Perez: crime and a lack of economic opportunity.

Salazar told Newsweek via WhatsApp that her family, which includes husband José Gregorio Campos and son José Manuel, decided to immigrate to the U.S. on July 13, 2023. They previously lived in Ecuador for about five-and-a-half years.

They ultimately entered the U.S. via the CBP One app, a free mobile application instituted by U.S. authorities on October 28, 2020. U.S. Customs and Border Protection (CBP) launched the mobile application to serve "as a single portal to a variety of CBP services," namely a method to enter the country legally at ports of entry along the southern border.

"The trip was super stressful starting because we had to go into the jungle of the Darién Gap between Colombia and Panama, where we had seen many videos of people dying; there are many women and girls [that] had been raped," Salazar said.

"The first moment we entered the jungle, you have mixed feelings that you want to leave. There is you and for your family, afraid that at any moment something will happen to us and you will also be raped. It hurts a lot to leave your family."

She said the trio lasted three-and-a-half days in the jungle, on the move for some 12 hours per day while running out of food on day two and feeling "weak."

Her family chose Denver because her husband's brother was there, and he was the only person they knew in the States.

They've been in Denver since October 26, 2023. She thanked Denver Mayor Mike Johnston and other officials for helping to provide shelter at a Quality Inn upon arrival. They are currently living in a rented home in Lakewood with another family.

The couple currently works at Echter's Nursery & Garden Center in Arvada after previously cleaning houses and shoveling snow for money. She said a local pastor named Juan Peña helped them acquire work permits and Social Security.

"I live with my husband and my 12-year-old son, thank God," she said. "We can only thank God and everyone because my son has his school, and we have our jobs.

"The city of Denver has helped all the migrants a lot. I can tell you that from the bottom of my heart—for the United States. The city of Denver and all the locals of Colorado—we are extremely grateful. Here we are, fighting for our dreams."

A community stands together

In October, Andrea Ryall first heard online chatter about an increasing Venezuelan population in local schools.

She's one of the administrators of the Highland Moms & Neighbors page on Facebook, which serves as a coordinating arm of the wider Denver community that helps facilitate support for area migrants in a range of capacities—including finding shelter, providing food and clothing, and even starting limited liability companies (LLCs) for those who haven't yet obtained work permits.

The page, described by Ryall as "a super healthy place" with moms providing tips and advice, gained steam last fall and has since grown to more than 8,000 members who galvanize to make a difference.

"This is all new to me. ... I'm the epitome of typical mom in America," she told Newsweek via phone. "I haven't studied migration, don't work with the unhoused. This is not my M.O. I'm not technically prepared to do this in a way someone else isn't."

She was really struck by the migrant scene encapsulating Denver in November, during a feeding meet-up at a local shelter. Ryall and her children stopped by to assess the scene, finding no social workers on site, no signage, and migrants jacket-less in the Colorado cold.

It never provoked an "unsafe" feeling, she said.

She and others were approached by those who desired direction on how to navigate their lives, including plenty who expressed a desire to work immediately and feed their families.

One migrant woman with four children approached Ryall, saying she hadn't eaten all day. Ryall told the stranger to get into her vehicle with her children. They drove to pick up pizzas for the migrant and her four children.

"It was like this moment—we were mom for mom, both caring for our kids," Ryall recalled. "I could have been asking her for help."

The scene got the attention of others, apparently. Within four days roughly 1,000 people mobilized on social media. Donation sites were sprawled on front lawns, in backyards and on patios.

About 12 weeks later, in early February, the Facebook group had burgeoned to 6,000 members. Nearly 500 migrants were housed by local citizens at that juncture.

"My story is my story, and it's powerful," said Ryall, who is also an administrator for local group Hope Has No Borders. "But it's literally like copy-paste all over my community. We want a better world for our kids, and we see so clearly that this is a population that is capable. They just need help to take care of themselves."

While Denver is viewed in a certain light by locals and outsiders, Ryall said they've gone above and beyond—saying the city has "changed the game" in terms of a welcoming response for migrants complete with enough services to get them on their feet.

But the city can only do so much with the money it has, she admitted, based on federal policies and the lack of an improved, comprehensive framework pushed forward by politicians in Washington, D.C.

"The city of Denver has shown compassion," she said. "One of the largest migrations in our lifetime, and our city is choosing to act with compassion. I'm proud of them."

She added: "It feels very clear to me that so much of the way immigration policy is built is to be a deterrent, but it's not working and they're here with their kids. We can't keep trying to keep things hard because it's creating chaos where we live."

Weighing the options

Both Perez and Salazar specifically cited Ryall and the Highland group as conduits for improving their lives and providing an opportunity for sustainability.

"The help of Andrea and all the people here has been very good since when we arrived at the shelter," Salazar said. "We didn't even have enough to eat...clothes for the cold, and they helped us. Food. Drugs.

"All the residents here have been really friendly, not only to me and my family but to all the people without even knowing us."

Perez's housing situation still remains fluid.

Her family was originally housed by a Highland group members' family between December and April. In April, they were offered to basically house-sit at a neighbor's home until mid-July while they are traveling—allowing her children to finish out the school year.

Perez continues to seek long-term housing options, with a caveat: she wants to see how her husband's case turns out.

"The truth is, I'm waiting for my husband's result so I can decide what to do because it's not easy here alone," she said. "I didn't come to this country to be separated from my husband of so many years."