As a Colorado state lawmaker, Naquetta Ricks has fought hostile narratives about immigrants — that they take advantage of public money, that they’re largely criminals, that they belong to gangs.
“I’m upset,” said Ricks, who arrived in the United States from Liberia more than three decades ago, in a recent interview. “You never hear about the positive aspects of what immigrants bring — what we contribute as far as tax dollars, as far as labor, as far as science, technology.”
The rhetoric has grown more negative, she and several other immigrants said, amid President Donald Trump’s intense focus on deporting immigrants without proper legal status since he returned to office in January. But with immigration front and center in politics, even immigrants and migrants who are directly affected hold differing opinions about the resulting societal tensions and actions targeting their communities.
Some argue that it’s tougher than ever to be an immigrant. Others counter that the United States remains a welcoming country and say Trump is following the correct approaches to stymy illegal immigration.
“What President Trump and ICE are doing is just following the rules,” said Alberto Bejarano, who immigrated to Denver from Maracaibo, Venezuela, in 2018 to escape political persecution. He’s been in the asylum process since then. “If you’re here illegally, you need to go and try to come back in a different way. That’s it.”
In recent years, Denver received an influx of more than 40,000 migrants — many of whom are Bejarano’s fellow Venezuelans — who traveled to Colorado from the southern U.S. border. The flow of new arrivals has slowed since early last year, in the final months of former President Joe Biden’s administration.
Among them was Ender Rojas Rivas, who arrived in Denver from Valencia, Venezuela, in late 2023. He’s applied for asylum, secured his work permit and registered a small construction business.
Though Rojas Rivas, 47, has taken steps to reside in the U.S. legally, he’s concerned about escalating immigration enforcement under Trump, which has included more scrutiny of asylum claims from the past few years. He says he’s watched fellow Venezuelans and Mexicans, especially, feel the impact of detainments and deportations.
“I am worried, all the same, because they’re taking all these Mexicans that have all this time here,” Rojas Rivas said in Spanish through a translator. “Me, I only have one year (here) — oh, man.”
Nga Vương-Sandoval, the executive director of Refugees + Immigrants United Colorado, contends that the reasons why migrants leave their home countries today — political persecution and civil wars, gang violence, climate change, economic collapse and more — are myriad and nuanced.
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She believes immigrants face more hostility now than her Vietnamese family did when its members first landed in the United States decades ago, though Vương-Sandoval said xenophobia and racism were prevalent back then. Her family fled political oppression during the Vietnam War, escaping on a cargo ship with 3-year-old Vương-Sandoval in tow, and were resettled in the U.S. as refugees.
Today, “there are consistently anti-immigration sentiments,” she said. “You see pushbacks, you see extensive delays, and even, in many cases, (U.S. authorities) ignoring international protections that were put into place for these exact situations.”
Immigration ‘is like a political football’
According to a May survey by the Pew Research Center, 82% of Americans believe immigrants without legal status face some or a lot of discrimination — “the highest share for any group among 20 included in the survey.” Meanwhile, 65% said immigrants who are in the U.S. legally face some or a lot of discrimination.
While several longtime immigrants faced social and systemic hurdles when they first moved to the United States decades ago, they contend that it’s become more difficult to resettle here in recent years.
Ricks, a third-term Democratic state representative whose district includes part of Aurora — Colorado’s most racially and ethnically diverse city, and home to many immigrants — arrived in the United States in 1980 as a teenager. Her family had fled Liberia’s civil war after her mother’s fiance was murdered by a firing squad.
Once in the U.S., her mom — who had earned a biology degree — took on management positions at fast food chains like Church’s Texas Chicken to earn money, Ricks said.
“They were beneath what her qualifications were,” Ricks said. “But she needed to acclimate quickly to have money to pay the rent for us.”
Ricks recalls encountering curiosity over her accent and being asked questions about whether Africans wear clothes and drive cars.
But “at the time, immigration wasn’t the focus,” she said. “It wasn’t like today, where this is like a political football.”
Her family applied for political asylum in the United States. They didn’t have a lawyer, so they had to navigate the process themselves, Ricks said. Ultimately, their asylum application wasn’t granted.
Ricks later earned her citizenship in the early 1990s.
Legal difficulties persist for immigrants today, Ricks said, adding: “It’s hard for you to get a work permit or for you to even start working to take care of your family.”
Ndeye Ndao, 40, has lived in the U.S. since 2003 and received her American citizenship in January. When she was first acclimating to her new country two decades ago, the Denver resident remembered that transition period as a challenge.
“At times, (Americans were) not so welcoming,” Ndao said. “At other times, they were more curious.”
Ndao left Senegal in West Africa at 19 to study overseas. Intent on joining her brother in the U.S., she applied for a visa.
She landed first in Kalamazoo, Michigan. Ndao said the locale wasn’t very diverse. However, Western Michigan University enrolled many international students, and she was soon part of a small Senegalese community.
But it took time for her to learn fluent English. Ndao said she dealt with questions like, “Why didn’t you stay in your country?” and “What are you doing here?”
Even so, “it was more welcoming back then,” Ndao said. “After becoming a naturalized citizen, I still don’t feel safe because anything could happen to me — because, at the end of the day, I’m still an immigrant.”
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Not every immigrant shares that sentiment.
Aurora City Councilman Amsalu Kassaw became the first immigrant of color to sit on the council when he filled a vacancy in January. He said now is a good time to be an immigrant because of the strong community that people can lean on to learn about American culture, job opportunities and other support necessary to acclimate.
“The newcomers right now — they are in (better) shape” than immigrants were when he arrived in late 2006, he said. “The newcomers are very lucky.”
Over the years, Kassaw, 43, worked his way through the immigration system, from refugee to U.S. citizen. In Ethiopia, he was a civic leader, but the ruling party labeled him as opposition, Kassaw said. Threats of torture and arrest drove his escape to the U.S.
After his arrival, Kassaw dealt with culture shock and snow, which was new to him. But he said he was welcomed by Americans with open arms.
“I tell my kids, ‘You gotta love this country,’ ” Kassaw said.
Today, he works as a lieutenant at the GEO Group, the contractor that runs the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement detention center in Aurora. Kassaw estimates that 60% of its workforce is made up of immigrants like him, and often they help with language translation during proceedings.
As ICE ramps up enforcement activities, Kassaw says the agents are doing their jobs by targeting criminals.
“You’ve just gotta follow the rules,” he said. “If you’re here illegally, you’ve just gotta go and register yourself and go through the due process.”
Two men await asylum decisions
Bejarano agrees. He said he left Venezuela for his own safety. His father, a retired doctor, was murdered in 2007, then Bejarano was forced to flee the country a decade later after he had protested the government and criticized President Nicolás Maduro’s regime.
“Due to the political persecution, I have to leave Venezuela and leave everything behind and start from zero in my 40s,” Bejarano said. “When people know what I went through and how I did things and followed the process — and did it in a legal way — they are very supportive of me.”
In 2018, he resettled in Denver, securing his work permit. He’s still waiting for an interview with an asylum officer. Though Bejarano faced difficulties finding employment, he said, he worked as an apartment service manager for four years before losing his job when his work permit expired.
Still, “I’ve felt welcomed by everyone,” said Bejarano, 49. “I haven’t had a single negative experience. It’s actually the opposite.”
He depicted a minority of his countrymen as “troublemakers” who have spurred negative stereotypes about Venezuelans in the U.S.
“I know some people just want a better life, and they want an opportunity to work hard and be honest people here,” Bejarano said. “But with them come bad elements, too.”
Ultimately, he backs Trump’s immigration agenda.
Rojas Rivas, the Venezuelan man who arrived more recently, doesn’t support the president — “I’m not mental,” he said. But he also doesn’t feel he’s been discriminated against by Americans. While building his new life in Colorado, Rojas Rivas’ goal has been to work and support his family. He’s also awaiting his asylum court date.
“For the future here, I have a business,” said Rojas Rivas, who spends his days painting and remodeling homes. “And I want to continue progressing with that.”
To other Coloradans, he has a request: “That you support us, that you help us, that you trust us,” Rojas Rivas said. “And that (you) don’t allow that they separate us from our families.”
