When Borders Cross Us: Practicing Trauma-Informed Care in an Anti-Immigrant Climate

I spent my childhood summers in Laredo, Texas—where the sun scorched the pavement and caliche. The smell of roasted corn and grilled meats danced through the streets. My abuelo would take me across the border to Nuevo Laredo for enchiladas from a food truck—back when the border felt like a bridge between two homes, not a wall between two worlds.

I watched my uncle give the shoes off his feet to someone who had just crossed the Río Grande, still wet and disoriented. No questions asked. That was our version of immigration policy—kindness. That’s what I grew up knowing: this is what we do for people in need.

My family came from Mexico. My now-deceased mother-in-law crossed the border decades ago and later regularized her status. My family still drives to the Valley to light candles at the shrine before heading back to Corpus Christi, bellies full of tamales wrapped in love.

I live in San Antonio now. Yesterday, the National Guard has just been deployed to protect ICE agents. The current anti-immigrant climate strikes painfully close to home. Fear is thick in the air. Families are scared to answer the door. Children worry their parents will disappear. And the question remains:How do we help, in a trauma-informed way, when our neighbors are living in fear?

What Is Trauma-Informed Care in Times Like These?

Trauma-informed care means recognizing the impact of systemic violence and fear on the mind and body. It’s not just about comforting someone after harm—it’s about making sure we don’t retraumatize them while trying to help.

That’s especially critical in immigrant communities where fear is tied to survival, where mistrust of institutions is earned, and where families carry the weight of journeys we may never fully understand.

How to Show Up: Tips for Different Groups

🧑‍⚖️ Legal Advocates & Immigration Attorneys

Do:

• Slow your intake process down. Many clients fear sharing details that may be used against them.

• Avoid using aggressive or punitive language (“You should’ve filed already…” or “Why didn’t you report this?”)

Try saying:

• “Your story belongs to you, and we’ll move at your pace.”

• “It’s okay if you’re unsure or afraid. That’s completely normal.”

• “We are here to help, not to judge.”

  
  

Tip: Hire bilingual/bicultural staff when possible. If using interpreters, offer clients the choice of gender or dialect preference.

🤝 Family, Friends, and Neighbors

Do:

• Respect privacy. Even asking, “Are you legal?” can feel violating.

• Focus on safety, dignity, and practical support.

Try saying:

• “If there’s anything you need—groceries, rides, a place to rest—I’m here.”

• “You don’t have to explain anything. Just know you’re not alone.”

  
  

Tip: Have a list of local resources (legal aid, community clinics, immigrant rights orgs) printed and ready to give—discreetly.

⛪ Churches and Faith-Based Groups

Do:

• Create sanctuary spaces that are not contingent on faith affiliation or conversion.

• Offer public messages of solidarity and private spaces for healing.

Try saying from the pulpit or bulletins:

• “We stand with the stranger and the sojourner. This house is a house of refuge.”

• “We will not ask about your papers. We only ask how we can serve.”

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Tip: Provide trauma-informed training for clergy and lay leaders. Immigrant trauma often includes spiritual betrayal or religious-based shame.

💼 Advocacy Groups & Community Orgs

Do:

• Integrate mental health care into immigration support services.

• Avoid using clients’ stories for fundraising or media without full consent.

Try saying:

• “We believe you. You don’t owe us your trauma to be worthy of help.”

• “You get to decide how your story is shared, if at all.”

  
  

Tip: Hold space for rest and resistance. Trauma-informed care means you don’t just activate people—you also allow them to breathe.

Final Thoughts

To be trauma-informed is to understand that survival is not just physical—it’s emotional, spiritual, cultural. And in this climate, where borders harden and rhetoric sharpens, it’s easy to forget the humanity behind the headlines.

But I remember those enchiladas in Nuevo Laredo. I remember the dust on my uncle’s feet as he gave away his shoes. I remember that this land has always belonged to people who cross borders—and who carry trauma that we must honor, not exploit.

So whether you're a neighbor, a lawyer, a pastor, or just someone who gives a damn, remember:Trauma-informed care is not just a practice. It’s a promise.

We promise to see people.We promise to do no further harm.We promise to act with love and not fear.

—Written by Kris Medina Founder, American Institute for Trauma-Informed Care

Be the disruption. Lead the shift.