Every day, US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) locks up thousands of men, women and children in a sprawling network of more than 200 facilities, many of them for no other reason than they were seeking protection at the US border. And according to ICE statistics for just six detention facilities, at least 559 of the women detained between 2012 and 2014 were pregnant.
The uncertainty of whether and when they may be released – or if they will have a baby in detention – creates a trauma and stress on their minds and bodies. I know this, because I was pregnant and detained for three months and 17 days at the Eloy Detention Center in Arizona.
This happens despite ICE policy that pregnant women should not be detained “absent extraordinary circumstances or the requirements of mandatory detention.” In November 2014, along with announcing expanded protections for some immigrants, the Department of Homeland Security reiterated the directive not to detain pregnant women and other vulnerable populations. Yet at the Eloy Detention Center, a private facility contracted to the Corrections Corporation of America, there were many pregnant women in my pod. Many of us in ICE custody are held for unconscionably long periods, in often terrible conditions, and with little respect or attention to our health status or legal circumstances. Aside from attorneys and human rights advocates, the recent upward spike in the numbers of detained pregnant women seems to go unnoticed.
Last year, the dramatic increase of children and families arriving at the US southern border, and the resulting mass increase in the detention of families, attracted worldwide attention. These detained mothers rightfully seek asylum as victims of sexual assault, intense physical violence, kidnapping and sex trafficking. Their story is like my story, and the story of so many of us who fled here, either as children, adults or families, seeking protection in a country where we had family and friends to turn to and a system we thought would allows us a fair day in court. Instead, we are met with detention, an inability to understand and navigate American immigration law and, in cases like mine, the sheer panic that we will miscarry or somehow lose our baby in detention.
I arrived at Eloy after spending two days and two nights in a freezing border cell, dehydrated, with no ability to bathe. Officials casually told me what I already knew: I was pregnant. Despite my pregnancy, I and others like me were treated the same as any other detainee. I felt constantly humiliated. Beds were hard, and stools had no backs. We weren’t allowed sufficient rest, because at 5am each morning, officials would enter our cells and yell at us to get up. The food was inedible – everything was pasta and rice, or rotting vegetables and sometimes undercooked chicken. There was nothing I could do but eat it.
ICE insists that we get excellent pre-natal care. Yet during my monthly checkups, my nurse would always dismissively wave her hand and say “you are fine, no problem, go back to the pod,” though I was dehydrated, depressed and tired, losing weight, and always feeling sick and worried. I believe that at least two women suffered miscarriages while I was detained. The stress of constantly fearing that I would lose my baby, too, was almost too much to bear.
I saw pregnant women in the pod deciding to give up and get deported rather than following through with their asylum case, even though I knew they might be returning to dangerous situations, and it scared me. I knew I had to fight to my last breath against getting deported. It was only because I had help from lawyers and social workers that I ultimately managed to get out. I hated to leave my pregnant companions behind. I was afraid what might happen to them.
It is not easy for me to share this story. I’ve since learned that the degrading and inhumane treatment I received in Eloy echoes the findings of countless investigations on treatment, access to protection and meaningful care in immigration detention. The government spends over $2.4bn each year to detain immigrants, many of whom – like me – have family and friends here who can support us at no cost to the government while we make our case to an immigration judge.
It is not easy for me, but I share my story to put a face on all of the pregnant women and girls who remain in Eloy and so many other facilities. ICE’s abhorrent practice of detaining pregnant women and girls for weeks and months at a time, often endangering our wellbeing and imperiling the lives of our unborn babies, must end.