On a chilly Saturday morning in Chicago’s Little Village, the scent of grilled corn and the hum of ranchera music still fill the air, even as a wave of anxiety ripples through the city’s immigrant communities. For street food vendors Ofelia Herrera and Rafael Hernandez, fear is ever-present, but so is their determination to carry on. Despite the ongoing immigration enforcement blitz that’s kept many neighbors indoors since early September, the couple’s corn and aguas frescas stand remains open—an act of quiet defiance in the face of mounting pressure from federal authorities.
Since September 8, 2025, Chicago has been the stage for “Operation Midway Blitz,” a Border Patrol campaign targeting undocumented immigrants. According to the Associated Press, the presence of federal agents has been so intimidating that some residents—regardless of legal status—have barely left their homes for over two months. Sidewalks that once bustled with vendors and shoppers have emptied, and even U.S. citizens of Latino heritage are wary of venturing outside. Yet, Herrera and Hernandez, who have lived and worked in Chicago for nearly two decades, refuse to let fear dictate their lives.
“The only thing you can do is have faith in God and not be afraid,” Herrera told the Associated Press, sitting in her South Side home already decorated for Christmas just days after Halloween. “Fear gives way to depression and other things. At the end of the day, they don't deport you to Mexico but you are sick with depression and other things because you didn't have faith in God.” Her husband, Rafael, echoed her sentiment: “We know people who have fallen into depression. They don't leave the house. It's very sad.”
The couple’s resilience stands out in a neighborhood where many have gone into hiding. Their Little Village food stand, adorned with American flags, is nestled among family-owned restaurants, quinceañera dress shops, and barber stores—an area frequently visited by Border Patrol. Even as sirens blare and agents make their rounds, Herrera and Hernandez continue to serve Mexican-style corn on the cob and aguas frescas flavored with cucumber, pineapple, and strawberry, just as they have for 18 years.
But the reality of the crackdown is hard to ignore. The couple’s sales have plummeted by about 75% since the operation began. Friends and fellow vendors have been arrested—an egg vendor here, a tamale vendor there—by heavily armed agents asking about legal status. Tear gas was deployed on demonstrators at a nearby shopping center last month, a stark reminder of the risks involved in simply showing up to work.
Herrera and Hernandez’s story is just one thread in a much larger tapestry of immigration enforcement sweeping the nation. In New Orleans, Mayor-elect Helena Moreno is bracing her city for a similar operation. As reported by NBC and the Associated Press, around 250 federal Border Patrol agents are set to arrive in the coming weeks for “Swamp Sweep,” a two-month campaign aiming to arrest roughly 5,000 people across southeast Louisiana and Mississippi. The effort, led by Border Patrol commander Gregory Bovino—the same official who oversaw the Chicago blitz—marks the latest escalation in the Trump administration’s pledge for mass deportations.
Moreno has taken a distinctly different approach than some of her counterparts, issuing resources to the community and urging residents to know their rights. “My first priority is to keep our community safe. The reports of due process violations and potential abuses in other cities are concerning. I want our community to be aware and informed of the protections available under law. We must demand accountability and that peoples’ rights are not violated,” Moreno said in a statement. She also called on the legal community to step up and provide assistance, and announced the launch of a reporting tool to document any incidents of unlawful or abusive behavior by enforcement agents.
The federal government, for its part, has remained largely silent. The Department of Homeland Security declined to comment on the operation, but state leaders have made their views clear. Louisiana Governor Jeff Landry, a staunch Trump ally, and Mississippi Governor Tate Reeves both expressed strong support for the crackdown. “Louisiana fully supports U.S. Border Patrol and ICE, and all their agents who are rapidly making our State and country safer by taking criminal illegal aliens off of the streets and back to where they belong,” said Louisiana Attorney General Liz Murrill. Reeves added, “We support law and order in our state. If you are here legally, then you have nothing to worry about.”
Yet the data tell a more complicated story. According to the Associated Press, more than 70% of people in U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) custody during the 12 months through September 2025 were not convicted of a crime in the United States. While the administration insists it is targeting “the worst of the worst,” the reality on the ground suggests a much broader sweep, encompassing street vendors and longtime residents alike.
For Herrera and Hernandez, the stakes are deeply personal. The couple crossed the border illegally—she in 2004, he in 2005—enduring dayslong treks through the Arizona desert and paying smugglers thousands of dollars. They settled in Chicago, drawn by acquaintances and the promise of opportunity, and eventually met while working at a Mexican restaurant in Little Village. They have two U.S.-born children: a 10-year-old son who speaks little Spanish and seems largely unaware of the crackdown, and a 16-year-old daughter who lives in constant fear of her parents’ prolonged detention.
Despite their years in Chicago, the couple has little hope of securing legal status. They have paid taxes, obtained Illinois driver’s licenses, and bought a home in 2017 for $39,000 in Englewood, one of Chicago’s poorest neighborhoods, where they also serve tacos and burritos from a yellow truck on weekdays. But as Herrera explained, “We have thought about trying to obtain legal status but we don't have a strong case and could never afford an attorney.”
The couple’s memories of the COVID-19 pandemic—when they, like so many others, were forced to stay inside—serve as a reminder not to let fear win. They make small adjustments, like shopping for business supplies in different neighborhoods if they hear Border Patrol is nearby. But largely, they stick to their routine. “Chicago is nice,” Hernandez told the Associated Press. “The crime is difficult but Chicago is marvelous. There are many opportunities for those of us who are immigrants. It's painful what is happening.”
Not all stories end with quiet perseverance. On November 20, 2025, federal prosecutors in Chicago abruptly dropped charges against Marimar Martinez, a woman shot multiple times by a Border Patrol agent during an immigration raid. As reported by Democracy Now, Martinez was part of a convoy of vehicles trailing federal agents when she was shot. Defense lawyers presented evidence that the agent had swerved into her vehicle and later bragged in text messages about the shooting. The case was dismissed without explanation, raising fresh concerns about law enforcement conduct and accountability.
For now, Herrera, Hernandez, and countless others across the country continue to navigate a landscape shaped by uncertainty and fear. They cling to faith, family, and the routines that give their lives meaning. “People are frightened because they have lives here, they have kids here, including us,” Herrera said. “We don't want to go to Mexico but, if we have to, we will. What else is there to do?”
As immigration crackdowns intensify from Chicago to New Orleans, the resilience of communities like Little Village stands as a testament to the enduring spirit of those determined to call America home, no matter the cost.
