Across the Portland Metro Area, immigrant families are facing an alarming increase in aggressive federal immigration enforcement actions. Reports from our communities describe individuals being forcibly removed from vehicles, agents entering private residences without clear cause, and enforcement activity occurring in front of children and families. These actions have created widespread fear—many people are now afraid to go to work, attend school, seek medical care, or even leave their homes.

In response, community members have stepped up to protect and support one another.

We are raising funds to support dedicated volunteers who work tirelessly to keep our neighborhoods informed and safe during immigration enforcement activity. These individuals help share verified information, provide a protective presence, document incidents, and ensure that families understand their rights. Through informal but highly coordinated networks, volunteers monitor activity, bear witness to arrests, and help ensure that no one is taken without accountability or documentation.

Across Oregon, families are experiencing detention, separation, and displacement. At the same time, those who are standing up in defense of their neighbors are increasingly facing stress, harassment, and legal consequences. Some volunteers have been cited or penalized while carrying out this work, adding further strain to those already giving so much of themselves.

Oregon has long held a commitment to protecting immigrant communities. Yet, many residents and advocates report ongoing concerns about how enforcement practices are impacting families and communities on the ground.

Your support will help:

Provide resources and basic support for active community volunteers

Cover legal fees and related costs for those facing citations

Sustain rapid-response networks that share critical, real-time information

Support families impacted because they have stood up against authoritarian action

Knowing what is happening in our neighborhoods is critical. The people doing this work are motivated by care, solidarity, and a deep commitment to their communities—but they cannot do it alone.

By donating, you are standing with families, supporting community-led safety efforts, and helping ensure that no one faces these challenges without support.

Please consider contributing and sharing this campaign.

A Note from one of the ICE Watchers T:

I’m not a politician, an organizer by trade, or someone with power or influence. I’m just a regular person.

I first became involved in social justice work in my early 20s, supporting campaigns in the environmental justice movement. Like many people, I spent my 20s and 30s trying to understand myself and heal—learning meditation, living and working at retreat centers across the Southwest and the East Coast, and doing the quiet, often invisible work of becoming a more grounded human being.

These days, some of my favorite moments are simple. Early mornings in Forest Park, just as the sun begins to rise, going for a long trail run. That’s where I find clarity. That’s where I work through the weight of things. It’s where I remind myself who I am.

More than anything, I’m a parent. My two children are the greatest joy in my life—and raising them is both the hardest and most meaningful thing I’ve ever done. I think a lot about the world they’re growing up in, and the one they’ll inherit. I think about the day they might learn about this time in history and ask, “What did you do?”

I never wanted to have an answer that felt like silence.

There’s always a tension between showing up for my community and being fully present for my family. If I’m being honest, I don’t always get that balance right. But I can’t ignore what’s happening around me.

After living overseas for six years and learning a second language, I came to understand how powerful words are—how important it is to speak clearly, to connect, and to stand for something when it matters.

Right now, it matters.

I chose to support my community in a time of fear and uncertainty. I chose to stand up, to witness, and to not look away from the harm being done. And because of that, I am now facing serious legal challenges.

I am being targeted not because I’ve done something wrong—but because I refused to stay silent.

This isn’t about being extraordinary. It’s about ordinary people making a choice to care for one another. I never imagined I would be in this position, but I also know I couldn’t live with myself if I had done nothing.

None of this is right. And it shouldn’t fall on everyday people to step in—but right now, it does.

I’m asking for your support as I navigate these legal challenges and continue to stand with my community. Any help means more than I can fully express.

A Note from S:

I’ve been involved in mutual aid, protests, and nonprofit work for most of my life. Caring about justice, inclusion, and challenging what’s wrong in the world isn’t something I recently found—it’s something that’s always been part of me.

I had my first supply drive when I was just eight years old. By 13, I was out in the streets protesting, feeling a kind of fire and inspiration that never really left me. I believed then—like I still do now—that ordinary people have the power to stand up for what’s right.

In recent years, especially after the height of the Black Lives Matter movement, I tried to focus on building a stable life. I put my energy into my career. For the first time, I felt financially secure. I felt like I was finally on a solid path.

But that sense of stability didn’t last.

When Donald Trump was elected, something shifted for me. I couldn’t ignore the warning signs. I couldn’t pretend that the policies being proposed were just ideas—they felt real, and dangerous. As the child of immigrants, I saw what was coming in a way that felt deeply personal. I saw the fear before others did. And I knew I couldn’t sit behind a desk, working on spreadsheets, while people like my own family were at risk.

So I made a choice.

What started as helping where I could quickly became full-time work. I’ve been living off my limited savings, dedicating as much time and energy as I possibly can to protecting and supporting families in Washington and Multnomah County. I spend over 50 hours a week doing community watch, organizing, and fundraising for families who have been torn apart by immigration enforcement.

I’m not making any money from this. Not a dollar.

I’m doing this because I don’t know how to look away. Because my conscience won’t let me.

But this work comes at a cost.

Recently, I’ve started to notice that local law enforcement is watching me. I can feel the shift. The attention. And I have no doubt it’s because of the work I’m doing. Even as a citizen, I carry fear—because I know how I’m seen. I know that to some, I’m not viewed as a neighbor, a parent, or a human being. I’m seen as something less.

And that reality is heavy.

I never set out to be in this position. I’m not trying to be a hero. I’m just someone who couldn’t stay silent when it mattered most.

But now, I need help. I never wanted to ask for help, the whole thing is embarrassing. Recently a woman I have been helping get her husband back told me that just like her my life has been torn apart by ICE just in a different way. For some reason her words clicked for me. So here I am asking for your help.

Thank you