Content warning: This article contains references to sexual assault.

In 1994, at just 14, my mother found herself in the United States for the first time. She was on a day trip, just hours after receiving her visitor visa. She found excitement within the country’s unfamiliarity and seemingly endless opportunities. Twelve years later, when she returned to the U.S. — this time indefinitely — the country did not have the same appeal. 

The ambiguity of the country that was once exciting was now daunting as she carried the responsibility of raising a healthy and successful family in uncharted territories.

It was a progressive and innovative time when my mother arrived, yet cultural values eclipsed her ability to integrate into a new society. Like many immigrants, my mother found that the language barrier was one of the largest obstacles of this process. Not speaking English meant not being able to do even the most mundane of tasks: grocery shopping, getting gas, going to the laundromat — every social interaction felt like a humiliation ritual.

However, it was an experience entirely necessary for success. Not every battle can be fought gracefully, and that’s okay.

However, the attempt to speak English wasn’t just embarrassing; it was also dangerous. Some years ago, after a conflict with a man who threatened to call U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents on her, my mother was left with an unshakable fear that speaking broken English would result in deportation.

The paralyzing fear froze her into submission. She wasn’t just looking out for herself — she was looking out for her family. Her story is a shared reality with many immigrant women, particularly when it comes to abuse. Immigrant women are at a risk of sexual assault almost three times higher than the national average in the U.S., according to a 2023 report by the Tahirih Justice Center.

The weaponization of immigration status ultimately leads to undocumented women being less likely to report sexual assault according to the Maryland Coalition of Sexual Assualt — a notion that is likely to grow in light of recent reports of sexual abuse in detention facilities. 

Fear is exhausting, and the life of an immigrant mother is already fast-paced and demanding. Many work labor-intensive jobs while simultaneously managing the responsibilities of raising a family. 

This exhaustion obviated my mother’s ability to discover or reflect on who she was outside of an onerous living. The lack of emotional support and community my mother had access to in the U.S. denied her the opportunity to examine her own health. Rarely did anyone ask how she was doing — physically or emotionally.

My mother, like many immigrants, would push through her maladies by adopting toxic mindsets: “Se me va a pasar,” or “it will pass,” she would often say to herself. The responsibility of maintaining a healthy family in a country where she did not have much to fall back on made self-care a luxury she could ill afford. How would her family survive if she allowed herself to be weak?

A May 2025 study from Elsevier found that many low-income immigrant mothers often neglect their own health to prioritize their children’ s well-being. Additionally, undocumented immigrants lack access to federally funded healthcare coverage, resulting in financial burdens that delay and often remove the opportunity to receive medical care. 

It became clear to me that although help might not always fall into our laps, we always carry the ability to ask for it; so we must amplify this message back to those who need it the most: immigrant mothers.

Although my mother’s stories were full of uncertainty and fear, even years after they took place, they serve as reminders that one can not bend under the weight of excruciating obstacles. At the turn of every challenge, one learns that resilience often emerges from within. Therefore, it is necessary to believe that there is a purpose for our position in society, even when we feel like outsiders. This is a lesson that could not be learned without their unwavering strength.

It is only right that we try to return the favor to those who are most basically responsible for who we are. Sitting down and listening to our mothers’ stories is imperative for them to find solace in this tenuous time in which fear and silence has reached new heights. We must take a moment to discover the world our mothers built — often in retaliation to the ostracism they have been met with at every turn — and protect them with the same dedication that they have protected us with for all these years.