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How Latinos in Washington state are coping with ICE crackdowns: ‘I don’t have time for therapy’

Alejandra Guzman-Mercado was just weeks away from graduating college—the first in her family to do so—when a judge denied her father’s request to remain in the United States and ordered his deportation.

Now, two months later, Guzman-Mercado said she’s still grappling with the emotional weight of her father’s deportation.

“My mental health has had to take a backseat because I’m taking care of other people’s mental health,” she said. “I know it’s counterintuitive, but I don’t really have time for therapy.”

Since President Donald Trump took office in January, Latino communities across Washington have reported increased immigration enforcement, disrupting families and reshaping daily life. Some, like Guzman-Mercado, are left to pick up the pieces after deportations. Others turn to local organizations for help—but many cope alone, unsure where to turn or too afraid to speak out.

“It feels like I’m constantly trying to catch up and I can’t because there’s still more that I need to do,” Guzman-Mercado said.

Fear reshapes daily life

A recent survey conducted by health-policy organization KFF in partnership with the Los Angeles Times reports one-third of immigrants have seen negative effects like stress, anxiety, andproblems eating and sleeping since Trump took office earlier this year.

It also reports that 13% of immigrants overall, including one in five here legally, say they or a family member "have limited their participation in at least one day-to-day activity," such as going to a community event, work, or seeking medical care, over concerns about drawing attention to someone’s immigration status.

This survey builds on the 2023 KFF report, in partnership with the Los Angeles Times, and a KFF survey of immigrants in 2024 that examined claims about immigrants that circulated during the presidential election cycle.

Guzman-Mercado said these effects mirror what she’s been going through since her father, Pedro Guzman, was deported in May. Court records show her father has traffic violations, the most serious being a driving under the influence conviction in 2020, but no other criminal record.

“I didn’t notice that I wasn’t eating as well until I really sat on it and was like, ‘Yeah, this isn’t normal,’” she said. “Also, any kind of notification in the middle of the night will now wake me up and I have a backpack ready for when I need to go back home—so now I’m just in the current state of flight.”

She added that she feels like she can’t sleep and can’t take a break “because there’s always another thing I have to take care of to make sure the rest of my family stays safe.”

Yolanda, 16-year-old who fled Honduras two years earlier as an unaccompanied minor, takes similar precautions after ICE agents went to her home, claiming to be doing a welfare check in April.

She agreed to speak using only her first name because of her ongoing immigration case.

“Honestly, we’ve been walking with caution because we know that the situation here is difficult,” Yolanda said in Spanish. “But yes, we’ve been a bit scared.”

In an email to The Spokesman-Review and Spokane Public Radio in April following Yolanda’s incident, an Immigration and Customs Enforcement spokesperson stated that ICE began conducting investigative activities in January to “ensure unaccompanied alien children released from the care of the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services Office of Refugee Resettlement are not subjected to crimes of trafficking and exploitation.”

“ICE is fully engaged and committed to child safety and accountability for every action and person involved in the care of unaccompanied alien children,” the statement continues.

Still, Yolanda said the encounter shook her, and it took days to begin feeling normal again. While ICE hasn’t returned, she said the fear lingers.

Community support

Since her father was arrested by ICE in February, Guzman-Mercado said she has been in close contact with Nuestras Raíces Community Center, a nonprofit that serves Latino families in Spokane, Adams and Grant counties.

The organization offers services ranging from Know Your Rights workshops to mental health support at its Othello and Spokane locations.

According to the U.S. Census Bureau, 8% of Spokane County's population is Latino—about 35,000 people. In Grant County, the Latino population makes up just over 44%, while Adams County’s Latino population is nearly 65%.

However, Fernanda Mazcot, executive director of Nuestras Raíces, said it’s likely the population across Spokane County has increased due to “many new immigrant arrivals in the last three years.”

Mazcot started the Spokane location of the Esperanza program, which offers mental health and social services, four years ago to serve the Hispanic community.

“Many of the social work services offered by Nuestras Raíces were launched in response to COVID-19,” Mazcot said.

Guzman-Mercado said she hasn’t fully been able to take advantage of their services because she’s had to work extra hours and manage legal matters for her family, but it’s been helpful knowing she has their support along with the Party for Socialism and Liberation in Spokane, which has been active in protesting against immigration enforcement.

“I’ve also been fortunate enough to be connected to PSL Spokane, and they’ve given me a platform to share my family story and how this is really happening to people in Spokane and in the neighboring areas and stuff,” Guzman-Mercado said.

Jose Alvarez, a clinical social worker at the Nuestras Raices’ Spokane location, said the number of youth and families seeking mental health support has increased in the past couple of months with ongoing ICE activity.

Alvarez said the organization estimates an increase of 25-35% over the past few months, based on their intake logs.

“I actually would say that the youth, the younger generations, are actually not fearful or scared of reaching for support if they need to,” Alvarez said.

Alvarez said he believes the increase in youth and families seeking mental health services may be partially influenced by the current events that heightened fear within immigrant communities.

“Many families are experiencing increased stress, anxiety and instability. This has contributed to a greater need for trauma-informed and culturally responsive mental health support,” he said.

While the Spokane office has seen an uptick in outreach, their other location hasn’t experienced the same.

‘Hard to trust’

Esmeralda Sandoval, case manager at Nuestras Raíces' location in Othello, said since Trump took office again, there’s been at least a 45% decrease in clientele, many of whom would reach out for mental health services and Individual Taxpayer Identification Numbers.

The ID numbers are typically used by people who don’t have a Social Security Number, such as foreign investors, or undocumented immigrants.

She said the uncertainty surrounding the current administration is what has caused this significant decline.

“There is a high need in mental health just, unfortunately, with everything under the current administration, it’s hard to trust,” she said.

Othello is 78% Hispanic, and many members of the population work in the agriculture industry in and around Adams County. Sandoval said that at least 85% of their clients who go to their Othello location are farmworkers, according to Data USA.

Sandoval, who was once a recipient of the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program and worked in the fields with her parents, said she can understand their clients’ fear and declining use of services over heightened immigration arrests.

DACA was established under former President Barack Obama and gives people who came to the United States without legal status as children legal protection that must be renewed every two years.

“I’ve gone through moving to different states working in the fields, and it’s not easy,” Sandoval said. “And now, thank God, I have legal status, but I still always worry about other people that are in those shoes.”

Alvarez also said the decrease of mental health inquiries in the Othello office is a reflection of the heightened fear that many families are under right now.

“In rural communities, other factors also play a huge role in decrease of inquiries such as lack of transportation, mistrust, stigma around mental health and the outreach capacity,” Alvarez said.

“In Spokane, we have a higher outreach capacity, more visibility, which results in higher engagement, especially during times of uncertainty and stress,” he said.

Life after deportation

Guzman-Mercado recalled the moment her family sat in the courtroom and heard the judge deny her father’s final plea to stay.

Immediately, her younger sister collapsed into her arms.

But even that moment, she said, doesn’t fully capture the heartbreak they’ve endured.

Since graduating from Eastern Washington University with a music degree earlier this spring with a focus on flute and voice, Guzman-Mercado said the aftermath of her father’s deportation has taken a heavy toll on her and her family’s mental health, compounding their emotional strain.

Her brother is 15 years old, while her sister is 20. Being the oldest, she said, has made her feel a greater weight on her shoulders.

“I feel like I won’t be able to breathe right until he’s back,” she said.

His absence, she said, is a painful reminder of his unwavering dedication to their family, his pursuit of the American Dream and the joy he brought to their lives.

“He liked showing us the dumbest TikTok videos he could find to make us laugh; he would let my sister practice her waxing, when she was in esthetician school, even though it would hurt him,” Guzman-Mercado said.

“We had even started teaching him how to play video games with us and even though he wasn’t good at all, he would make us laugh with his attempts at beating us at Mario Kart,” she said.

Despite the distance, they stay connected through daily FaceTime calls, some filled with teasing and laughter, others heavy with tears and longing.

Much of this, she said, is because returning to his home in Mexico has been a mixed experience.

Guzman-Mercado said her dad has been living with his older sister since he got deported.

“Going back has been bittersweet, because although he wanted to be back in his birthplace for so long, he wanted it to be on his terms,” she said.

Guzman-Mercado said she’s been grateful for the support and connections she’s found through organizations like Nuestras Raíces, which have helped her find clarity amid the emotional turmoil.

She’s also found a sense of community in recent protests, which she said have helped validate her experience with her father’s deportation.

But she emphasized many of the deeper issues tied to deportation—particularly mental health—often go unnoticed.

“I don’t have the luxury to cope; I have to find solutions, because there’s still bills that need to be paid,” Guzman-Mercado said.