We are living through a political moment where fear, surveillance and the threat of immigration enforcement have become part of daily life for many immigrant families. Across the country, enforcement actions and the possibility of detention or deportation have reshaped how people move through the world. Decisions about where to go, whom to trust and whether it is safe to seek help no longer feel ordinary.
These policies are often justified in the name of public safety. Evidence suggests otherwise. Immigrants are less likely to commit violent crimes than U.S.-born individuals and contribute significantly to the economy through taxes, labor and entrepreneurship. Instead of creating safer communities, the real outcome of these policies is widespread stress, fear and isolation that extends far beyond those directly targeted, regardless of immigration status.
To understand the full impact of this moment, we must look beyond policy debates and into the lived experiences of communities. One way to understand this is through what many describe as the “invisible backpack.”
The invisible backpack represents the cumulative psychological and emotional weight people carry from past trauma, ongoing uncertainty and the daily strain of navigating systems that can feel unwelcoming or harmful. It is not one experience, but an accumulation: migration journeys, family separation, exposure to violence, discrimination, policy instability and the constant need to assess risk in everyday life.
The heaviness of this backpack often shows up in ways that are not immediately visible. Children may sit in classrooms distracted by fears that their parents will not be home when they return. Adolescents may withdraw or struggle to focus as they navigate questions of belonging and safety. Adults make daily decisions through a lens shaped by uncertainty, distrust and fear.
Over time, this kind of sustained stress affects both physical and mental health. It can disrupt sleep, strain relationships and interfere with learning and development, particularly for children growing up in these environments.
Importantly, what we are witnessing is not an individual problem. Communities are experiencing collective responses to prolonged instability and threat. This can look like increased isolation, distrust or an inability to imagine a different future. No one is wired to function indefinitely under these conditions, and we are seeing the consequences unfold in real time.
This is why mental health must be part of the conversation.
Since its inception, the Coalition for Immigrant Mental Health has focused on addressing the mental health needs of vulnerable immigrant communities, including refugees, asylum-seekers and undocumented individuals. Mental health and the immigrant experience are deeply intertwined. Many immigrants arrive already carrying experiences of loss, displacement or violence from their home countries or migration journeys. Without accessible, culturally and linguistically responsive support, these experiences compound over time.
The Coalition for Immigrant Mental Health also works to build collective capacity by training front-line providers, supporting community-based organizations, and creating spaces where individuals and families can access care grounded in their lived experiences. This work helps destigmatize distress by recognizing it as an expected human response to sustained adversity rather than a personal weakness.
In times like these, it is easy to focus only on harm. But there are also networks of care quietly holding communities together. Community organizations, advocates, educators and neighbors continue to step in so people are not carrying this weight alone. They share tangible, emotional and informational support while creating spaces for connection and healing.
Across the country, communities continue to show up for one another in meaningful ways: neighbors escorting children to school, volunteers delivering groceries, and organizations coordinating rides so families can safely attend critical appointments. These acts of care and resistance reflect strength, but they also highlight the extraordinary pressures communities are navigating. Resilience should not be mistaken for the absence of need.
Policies will continue to evolve, as will community needs. If we are serious about supporting healthy and resilient communities, we must begin by acknowledging what people are carrying. The invisible backpack is not an abstract concept. It is shaping how children learn, how families connect and how communities function.
We must recognize the weight immigrant communities are carrying and invest in the conditions that allow people to set the backpack down.
Aimee Hilado, Ph.D., is a licensed clinical social worker and board president of the Coalition for Immigrant Mental Health. She is also an assistant professor at the University of Chicago Crown Family School of Social Work, Policy, and Practice, where her work focuses on migration trauma and its impact on refugee and immigrant families with young children.