Imagine being 21, prohibited from legally working, pregnant, and about to be deported. What other choice do you have but to marry him? For the millions of women and girls who have recently immigrated to the U.S. or have lived here their whole lives with uncertain immigration status, this reality follows them, lurking in the margins of their daily lives. Without legal status, these women live in a constant state of vulnerability, where their safety and autonomy are in the hands of someone who claims to love them.
These women are more likely to endure brutal and complex forms of abuse, such as intimate partner violence, sexual exploitation, and domestic servitude, all under the threat that their partner could end everything with a single call to ICE. For many, the United States is the only home they have ever known, where they have built families, worked, and tried to create a better future. Yet their partner can take that life away from them and use it as leverage, leaving these women at risk of detention, family separation, or permanent removal from the only place they call home.
In the U.S., there are legal protections available to migrant survivors with undefined legal status. One of these protections is the Violence Against Women Act (VAWA), which is a federal law that provides various forms of relief for women who are victims of abuse. In the special case of migrant women, VAWA creates a special pathway to lawful immigration status for those who have faced or face intimate partner violence, sexual assault, or stalking. This is particularly crucial for victims who would otherwise have to rely on their abusers to file a petition for them. By allowing survivors to “self-petition” for legal status, VAWA empowers them to seek protection and stability without the fear of having their immigration status controlled by their abuser.
As one can imagine, petitioning under VAWA is a complicated process with complex bureaucratic hurdles. For migrant women who are already vulnerable, particularly those from low-income backgrounds, these barriers can be overwhelming, making it even harder to escape violence and get the help they need. This is where many NGOs like Catholic Legal Charities in Miami (CCLS) and the Jenesse Center in East Los Angeles step in. These organizations offer legal representation, assistance with VAWA petitions, and help securing related protections like U-Visas and access to emergency shelter, healthcare, and counseling.
These organizations now face severe budget cuts following President Trump’s Executive Order on immigration, forcing them to reduce their services or eliminate programs. This is especially harmful to migrants with undefined legal status, particularly women, who depend on these groups for representation and help navigating their legal proceedings. Take, for example, the National Immigrant Justice Center (NIJC), which, in a statement released earlier this year, reported that its Immigration Court Helpdesk (ICH) at the Chicago Immigration Court received a stop-work order from the Department of Justice on January 23. The helpdesk had provided legal information to unrepresented immigrants since 2016, assisting dozens of people each week, many of whom were recent arrivals from Venezuela and other countries seeking asylum or legal protection.
NIJC’s policy director, Azadeh Erfani, explained that the helpdesk “worked collaboratively and with the full support of immigration judges and court staff… [and] filled a vital gap as many people cannot afford to retain an attorney.” She emphasized that the desk helped prevent deportation orders, identified urgent filing deadlines, explained legal options, and ensured immigrants had the information they needed to make informed decisions. Removing such a program, Erfani warned, “is unconscionable at a time where the administration is conducting mass raids and further swelling an immigration court backlog nearing four million people”.
Yet, organizations like NIJC in Chicago are not the only ones facing devastating funding cuts and program shutdowns. It is happening all over the United States. In Miami, for example, Catholic Legal Services is grappling with similar challenges. Maitte Barrientos, the Senior Litigation Attorney at Catholic Legal Services, has witnessed these changes firsthand. I interned at CLS a few years ago, when the political climate felt uncertain but not as openly hostile as it is today.
When I first worked with Barrientos in 2022, the focus was on expanding access to legal protections for immigrant survivors of violence, building community trust, and fighting for greater protections under existing immigration law. Today, much of her work has shifted to triaging the damage, such as helping women who are caught between dwindling resources, rising fear, and an increasingly unforgiving legal system. CLS, like many NGOs across the country, now must do more with less, even as the need for their services has never been greater.
Barrientos noted how recent state and federal cuts have hit CLS where it hurts most. Following Trump’s Executive Order, their funding for legal orientation programs was zeroed. The consequences for survivors of violence are immediate and devastating. “It will affect them directly if we can’t help survivors of [gender-based violence] and/or [domestic violence] apply for protections such as VAWA or U visas.” These protections are often the only way for immigrant women and children to find a refuge from their abusers. Without access to legal aid, many are left trapped, preferring “to be in the US suffering in silence than completely at risk of larger harm back in their home country.”
But this is not all. The impact of defunding reaches far beyond individual programs. It disrupts the ability of organizations like CLS to function at even the most basic level. When I asked about the broader implications, Barrientos was clear: “Without our federal grants, we have had huge financial cuts, and so it calls into question hiring and salaries. How will we get the work done if we don’t have the budget to hire/pay attorneys?” This simple question cuts to the heart of the crisis: there can be no legal aid without lawyers. And without funding, migrant women are all the more susceptible to the predations of both abusive men and a nativist government.