*Name has been changed to protect identities

Just days after Donald Trump’s first inauguration, Sarah* and Matt* rushed to City Hall to get married, not because of romance or tradition, but because they were terrified. A recently-signed executive order that came to be known as the “Muslim Ban” signaled to them that the administration would wage war on immigrants. In fact, that war had already begun.

“I never thought about marriage as a necessity,” Sarah explains. “But once Trump was elected, my knee-jerk reaction was to protect [Matt.] I thought marriage might give me some power. At least I could ask where he was if he got detained.”

Sarah, a U.S. citizen, and Matt, who is undocumented, met in the early 2000s. Their friendship grew over shared experiences and conversations, especially during a stretch when Sarah left the country to visit relatives and realized that, before coming to America, Matt had lived in a similar area as her relatives. Their connection, forged long before Matt’s immigration status became a threat, turned into a committed partnership.

After Trump took office, the stakes changed.

Being married to a U.S. citizen does not protect an undocumented person from being deported or detained. Even attempting to pursue legal status involves navigating a punishing and expensive bureaucracy.

“You have to qualify for a [hardship] waiver and then you have to leave the country for an interview. [Nothing is] guaranteed. It’s all a gamble—and a very costly one,” Sarah says. “We didn’t realize how high the bar was, or how many roadblocks were ahead.”

Matt has lived in the U.S. for more than 20 years. He pays taxes with an IRS-issued Taxpayer Identification Number (TIN). “Since day one,” he says, “I’ve done what’s right. But none of that matters. With Trump [there’s now a] target on my back. It’s no longer about whether I’m ‘good’—it’s about when [the immigration agents] come for me.”

Reality for Sarah and Matt is a constant, grinding anxiety. The threat isn’t just deportation, but unlawful detention. “Our worst fear is being separated,” Sarah says. “The detention system is designed to exploit people. Bodies are now a commodity.”

After they were married, Sarah and Matt applied for what’s known as a hardship waiver, which allows an individual who is otherwise inadmissible to the U.S. to pursue legal citizenship if they can prove that their removal would cause extreme hardship to a U.S. citizen family member. To qualify, they were forced to submit extensive documentation, go through biometric screenings and provide Sarah’s medical records. Giving the U.S. government this much information on them without the guarantee their waiver may be granted has only deepened their vulnerability.

“You give them everything—bank accounts, personal history—and in the end, all it does is make you easier to find if they decide to take you,” Sarah says.

Their plans—going back to school, building a future—are suspended. Every ounce of energy goes into staying safe, navigating bureaucracy, and advocating for others in similar situations.

“There’s no plan,” Matt says. “We just take it day by day. If I leave the house, I wonder if I’ll come back.”

Even basic employment is now difficult. Without a work permit, Matt can’t get a stable job, even though he’s worked multiple jobs for years to support his family.

“People don’t understand,” Sarah says. “There is no visa for a dishwasher. There’s no path for the people doing the essential work that keeps this country running.”

Sarah tried to secure “parole in place” status for Matt—a policy that allowed undocumented spouses of citizens to apply for work permits without risk of raids. It was swiftly shut down after political opposition.

“It makes me resentful when people claim immigrants are here to steal jobs,” Matt says. “I didn’t come here to take anything. I came here because it was my last choice. Either I migrate somewhere or I end up dead or jailed in my home country.”

Sarah adds that, in her experience not just with Matt, but with others in their community, it’s become clear that the “system is designed to exploit. You’re good enough to pay taxes and into social security, but not good enough to be protected or have rights. That’s the trap.”

Sarah and Matt’s story is a reminder that the immigration system in the U.S. is more punitive than probative. Matt has consistently attempted to find legal paths to citizenship and has been consistently denied. Sarah has consistently advocated for her partner but, in a political climate where immigration is a wedge issue, she fears that scapegoating, racism and discrimination now defines U.S. policy.

“All we want now is peace,” Sarah says. “We just don’t want to be terrorized by our government. They’re stealing our time, our quality of life. It’s hideous."

This week at the ACLU: We filed a petition of habeas corpus on behalf of a Maine resident detained by ICE, we provided testimony on two immigration bills, and several anti-trans bills received intial votes in Augusta.

ACLU of Maine challenges indefinite ICE detention of Maine resident

Late Thursday, the ACLU of Maine filed a habeas corpus petition Thursday on behalf of Eyidi Ambila, a 44-year-old Maine resident who has been held in U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) detention at Cumberland County Jail since September 23, 2024. The petition challenges Mr. Ambila’s ongoing, indefinite detention as a violation of his constitutional right to due process. 

 

Mr. Ambila was previously detained and released from DHS custody in 2007 and lived in the community for the next 17 years, consistently reporting to ICE, maintaining employment in Maine, and paying taxes. He is the primary provider for his family, including two minor children. Now in ICE custody for eight months, Mr. Ambila has received no updates on his immigration detention case. He remains in custody without any indication of when or if he will be released. 

Mr. Ambila’s story is just one in a time of sharply increased immigration enforcement activity happening in Maine. Since January 20, more people have been detained over civil immigration matters in Maine than in all of 2024. The widespread use of ICE detention raises serious concerns about due process and exposes local governments to costly legal liability. 

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ACLU of Maine testifies at State House in support of immigration bills 

Early this week, the ACLU of Maine was in Augusta testifying in support of two immigration bills: LDs 1971 and 1259. These bills would help ensure all people are treated equally under the law and prioritize public safety.

All people in the United States are entitled to due process as guaranteed by the U.S. Constitution. LDs 1259 and 1971 would strengthen the due process rights of all in Maine and ensure violations are not committed using local taxpayer resources through formal partnerships with federal authorities. 

The vast majority of testimony heard was in support of these bills. Read our testimony on each bill here and here.

Track LD 1259 

Track LD 1971

Maine Legislature takes initial vote on anti-trans bills

At a work session on Tuesday, the Judiciary Committee took an initial vote on several anti-trans bills. Two bills that propose bans against trans girls participating in school sports received a tie vote of "ought not to pass," in the committee, while another received a 6-5 "ought to pass" vote. Other, more broadly-focused anti-trans bills, were rejected by a majority vote. All bills, regardless of initial committee vote, will now move to the full House and Senate for a final vote. 

 

This is a promising start, but the fight isn’t over. As these bills move to the House and Senate floors, your voice is still crucial. Thank you to everyone who’s spoken out. Help us keep the momentum going! There’s still time to contact your lawmakers and urge them to oppose these harmful measures.

Take Action Against Anti-Trans Bills