How Immigrants Manage Their Digital Trails Amidst a Heated Political Landscape

For over a decade, a San Francisco-based DACA recipient, Miguel, successfully renewed his Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) status every two years, but 2024 brought unexpected delays.

This year, he faced a more than five-month wait for approval, leading to a lapse in his enrollment and leaving him in legal uncertainty.

Due to this, he lost his work visa and endured a three-month unpaid leave from his job at a major professional services firm where he had been employed for ten years.

“In those three months, I scrambled to expedite the process, reaching out to officials and representatives for assistance,” Miguel explained, reflecting on his stressful attempts to secure his status.

He became increasingly cautious about his online presence, understanding that anything posted publicly could jeopardize his status in a volatile political climate around immigration.

“Given my situation, I avoid branding myself as undocumented or highlighting that aspect of my identity online,” he remarked.

Arriving in the United States at age seven from the Philippines, Miguel had always been mindful of his digital footprint. With private Facebook and Instagram accounts, he passionately supports immigrant narratives from an ally’s perspective rather than centering his own story.

Now that his DACA status has been renewed, granting him work permission again, he remains vigilant about his online image and public perception. States Newsroom has chosen not to use his full name to respect his privacy.

His employer, subject to SEC regulations, mandates a nonpartisan political stance, complicating Miguel’s efforts to reconcile his identity with his professional obligations. “It’s a significant conflict in my professional life,” he noted, emphasizing the struggle to separate his politicized experience from his career.

A digital footprint, the sum of information generated online, can have severe repercussions, especially for immigrants. A single post might lead to deportation or denial of citizenship.

In 2017, the Department of Homeland Security announced its plan to track social media for various visa holders, reflecting increasing data collection and surveillance.

Notably, in 2019, ICE contracted with commercial data brokers, gaining access to a wide range of public data. A federal court filing revealed that information gleaned from social media was instrumental in a deportation case involving an immigrant who had lived in the U.S. since childhood.

Ray Ybarra Maldonado, an immigration attorney in Phoenix, highlighted the rising demand for social media handles in immigration applications. While it can induce fear, he reassured clients that anything shared online is subject to scrutiny by authorities.

“Posting on social media is often mistakenly viewed as private,” Ybarra Maldonado cautioned. “One’s digital life can become a focal point in legal situations.”

He suggested that immigrants should keep their social media accounts private and limit connections to known individuals to mitigate risks. However, he acknowledged that a well-managed digital presence can also offer significant community engagement and demonstrate roots in the U.S.

José Patiño, a 35-year-old DACA recipient, also grapples with the implications of digital identity. Since migrating from Mexico at age six, he was conscious of the limitations imposed by undocumented status.

At college, Patiño recognized the necessity of social media for communication and organizing but initially hesitated to use identifying information.

“You don’t want your status to define you,” he said, reflecting on the pressures he felt growing up.

Eventually, he learned that being public helped him connect with supportive networks. Today, he actively leads Aliento, an organization dedicated to constructive community engagement, providing resources for individuals irrespective of their immigration status.

Patiño aspires to support those struggling with similar challenges he faced. “I aim to be the resource I needed when I was younger,” he stated.

Tobore Oweh, who immigrated to Maryland from Nigeria at age seven, echoes the sentiment of sharing one’s story. Since obtaining DACA in 2012, her online presence has acted as a liberation, engaging with communities facing similar struggles.

“It was crucial for me to share my narrative,” Oweh said, emphasizing the importance of connection through platforms like UndocuBlack.

Though navigating the uncertainties of immigration status remains daunting, she relishes the opportunities her openness has fostered.

Today, as the director of her floral business in Los Angeles, Oweh appreciates California’s progressive policies for immigrants. “Social media allows for community strength and resource sharing,” she mentioned, contrasting how social media serves today compared to her upbringing.

Believing in the progressive potential of sharing narratives, Oweh asserted, “Future generations have far more access to community support through digital platforms than I did.”

Beleza Chan, director at Immigrants Rising, noted the variation in confidence among immigrant communities regarding sharing their status online. “Political climate influences how we communicate our identities,” she said, observing shifts in expression post-Trump administration.