For Ana, 19, of Brazil, and Jonathan, 17, of Guatemala, the southern border of the United States marks the line between life and death. Ana and Jonathan, both clients of the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society of Pennsylvania (HIAS PA), a local humanitarian nonprofit that provides legal services to low-income immigrants in the state, now live in Philadelphia — but with looming uncertainty.
Ana’s journey began in 2019. Her mother wanted to reunite with Ana’s father, who had left Brazil for Philadelphia a few years earlier for work. Hard-pressed for money, Ana’s mother applied for visas and was denied. Instead of taking the U.S. government’s no for an answer, she hired a “coyote,” or guide, to smuggle her and Ana into America. Despite a difficult relationship with her parents, Ana, then 12, had no choice but to accompany her mother.
For Jonathan, gang violence and death threats forced him to leave his homeland. His mother, already living in Philadelphia, was unable to obtain a visa for him and hired a coyote to take him across the border in 2024.
Thus, Ana and Jonathan arrived without legal documents. They’re hardly alone in that status. Save The Children, a global nonprofit that works to improve the lives of children, reported that in 2022, the “Department of Health and Human Services received a record 128,904 unaccompanied, undocumented minors, up from 122,731 in the prior year.”
Even with coyotes guiding them, Ana and Jonathan had close calls. “Robbers shot at our group in Mexico until they were chased off,” Jonathan says.
Ana and her mom faced a different danger. Immigration and Customs Enforcement apprehended them on Feb. 6, 2019. Soon after reaching the U.S., they were held in a detention facility in Santa Teresa, New Mexico. “Sixty of us — men, women and kids — lived together in the same big room,” Ana says. “We slept on the floor. They only gave us those aluminum blankets. I got a bad case of chicken pox. My mom went into diabetic crisis because of bad food and too little insulin. She was in the hospital for four days. I had to stay in that big room the whole time.”
About three months after ICE apprehended them, Ana and her mother were released to Ana’s paternal aunt, who is a permanent U.S. resident living in Philly. She signed a contract to sponsor them, agreeing to support them, if necessary, so they wouldn’t need public assistance.
Unaccompanied minors — those who enter the U.S. without a parent or guardian — once detained by Customs and Border Protection, are transferred to the Office of Refugee Resettlement. ORR then sends them to one of its many shelters, depending on where bed space is available, says Stephanie Lubert, a managing attorney at HIAS PA.
Coming forward to receive a child from [the Office of Refugee Resettlement] now often results in the detention of the adult.”
— Stephanie Lubert, immigration attorney, HIAS PA
“Children can spend anywhere from a couple of weeks to months to years in ORR custody,” Lubert says. “Today, we’re seeing children detained for many months. That is due to new policies that restrict undocumented parents [or] caregivers from being able to safely sponsor their children. Coming forward to receive a child from ORR now often results in the detention of the adult.”
Jonathan lucked out. Removal proceedings weren’t begun against him. “Some kids are in active removal proceedings while detained,” Lubert says. Jonathan was only held for two weeks before flying to Philly and being released to his mother July 6, 2024.
Crushing poverty, corruption and gang violence drive the exodus of undocumented minors, especially from Central America’s Northern Triangle: El Salvador, Guatemala and Honduras, according to Save The Children.
“Most of the kids are fleeing some type of violence, often gang violence or violence in the family,” says Rachel Rutter, founder and executive director of Project Libertad. Headquartered in Phoenixville and serving Bucks, Chester and Montgomery Counties, Project Libertad is a nonprofit that provides free legal and social support to immigrant youth facing deportation. “We have kids who’ve had a family member raped or murdered by gangs,” says Rutter, who earned recognition as one of 2024’s Top 5 CNN Heroes for her work.
The trek to “El Norte” takes a physical and emotional toll, not to mention cold cash. Some families beggar themselves by hiring a coyote to smuggle children into the U.S., says Lubert. “They see it as their children’s only chance for a decent life.”
The trip often proves deadly as well, Lubert emphasizes. “The exact figures are difficult to track, but every year, hundreds of thousands of people die attempting to reach the southern border of the U.S.,” she says. “Children and families embark on this dangerous journey because they have no other options.”
Some Americans shake their heads over the troubles of undocumented immigrant children, but U.S. Rep. Jim McGovern of Massachusetts urges them to dig deeper. “Our debate on immigration in this country [often] takes place in a vacuum, removed from the violence and poverty … exacerbated by America’s own history of intervention and destabilization in Central America,” McGovern writes in a 2019 Medium article.
Many people also wonder why people wishing to immigrate don’t simply follow legal channels, Rutter says. “Under current immigration law, the vast majority of immigrants who are in the U.S. undocumented … simply have no legal path by which to do so — no matter how nice they are, no matter how hard they work, no matter how much they want to do it ‘the right way,’” Rutter says.
Lubert represents immigrant youth in the local child welfare system, that is, the Philadelphia Department of Human Services (DHS). While some of those young people in the system are unaccompanied minors, others arrive in the U.S. with a parent but require the protection of Philadelphia DHS due to abuse or neglect.
Besides DHS, schools and community organizations refer clients to HIAS PA. “We do a one-on-one assessment to determine a client’s needs,” Lubert says. In addition to kids who arrive alone, HIAS PA and Project Libertad are increasingly helping children left by themselves because their parents have been deported.
HIAS PA assisted 200 young people in the last fiscal year, from October 2024 to September 2025. Until last year, HIAS PA also offered social services, but cuts in government funding forced the organization to close that division, according to Cathryn Miller-Wilson, its executive director.
Rutter also finds herself stretched thin at Project Libertad. She must turn people away because she gets so many requests for help, she told WHYY News in 2024. She would like to see more funding for immigration issues in Philadelphia’s collar counties.
Whatever a child’s situation, legal representation makes the crucial difference. “About 90% of kids who don’t have a lawyer are deported,” Rutter says. “They are seven times more likely to remain in the U.S. if they have a lawyer.”
Going to court with someone by their side — especially for younger children who may not understand the proceedings — makes a big difference, Lubert finds. “You can see the hope in their faces,” she says.
Clients have other pressing needs. “They don’t have health insurance,” Rutter says, noting that she and two full-time social workers get referrals from ESL teachers, school counselors and other nonprofits. “They don’t speak the language. They face food and housing insecurity.” Yet, Project Libertad has achieved impressive results, according to its 2025 impact statement. Last year, the nonprofit trained 925 youth and families on legal and mental health rights and legally represented 92 for free.
Julie Burnett, one of the nonprofit’s two full-time social workers, handles all kinds of crises, as determined through an intake assessment.“Sometimes they need legal help or academic or emotional support,” she says. “Sometimes they want an interpreter or help navigating complicated systems. In one case, an 18-year-old girl from Guatemala, trying to finish high school, needed urgent medical care for her baby son.”
Project Libertad’s initiatives include a weekly after-school program in partnership with six schools. It serves more than 100 children. “We include ESL, art, STEM projects and a social-emotional learning component,” Rutter says. A mentoring program provides individual help for middle and high school students. Enrollment in the nonprofit’s summer program fell this year due to fear of ICE, Rutter says.
Lubert notes other school-related matters. Concerned teachers often refer young people to her because they are skipping school. “Many of the young people I serve are terrified to go to school,” she says. “They see ICE raids on television and in their neighborhoods. I’ve heard reports that ICE lingers around schools during drop-off and pick-up. This has a chilling effect.” Children may also work to help their struggling families, Lubert adds. Whether fear or work keeps kids away, their absence may trigger truancy proceedings.
Ana, like other children newly arrived in the U.S., prayed for a peaceful life. However, by 2020, old tensions with her father had escalated. “He started hitting me, not letting me go to school,” says Ana. “The Department of Human Services put me in foster care [in 2020] after he cut me with a knife.”
Ana’s family situation grew more alarming before it was resolved. “Ana’s parents threatened to kill her,” Lubert says. Family Court eventually revoked their parental rights, and Ana’s mother and father returned to Brazil.
Meanwhile, Ana concentrated on learning English, becoming not only a fluent speaker but also a budding writer. She lived in foster homes and graduated from a Philly high school last June.
Ana’s home life has become more settled. In 2024, she approached Ms. Maria, a fellow church member who fostered children, and asked to live with her. “I’d stopped fostering children,” Ms. Maria says, “but I told Ana that I would love to foster her.” The relationship has blossomed. In August, Ms. Maria began adoption proceedings.
My dream is to become an immigration lawyer, to help people like me. I want to fight for my future.”
— Ana, 19
But Ana still doesn’t have legal status in the U.S. and could be deported at any time.
Undocumented immigrant children have fled dire conditions and confront steep challenges here. But Zeke Hernandez, himself an immigrant from Uruguay and a professor at the University of Pennsylvania’s Wharton School, cautions that it’s short-sighted to see these kids solely as victims or villains eager for a handout. “These children are not only resilient, but evidence shows that investing in their early years is a smart bet,” says Hernandez, author of the 2024 book “The Truth About Immigration.” “They’ll start businesses that will create jobs and make other economic contributions, not to mention what they bring as good neighbors and cultural innovators.”
Jonathan’s and Ana’s strengths and ambitions confirm Hernandez’s findings. Jonathan acknowledges the rough road he traveled, as well as his joys and hopes. “The most difficult thing was getting used to a new language,” he says. Jonathan participates in a college-prep program. “The best thing is playing soccer. I play every day. And I don’t hear gunfire now,” he says. “I want to be an agricultural engineer.”
Ana embraces her dreams despite being in legal limbo. Lubert has applied for Special Immigrant Juvenile Status for Ana, which would allow her to apply for lawful permanent residency. That application is pending. “We’re living day by day, trying not to watch too much TV,” says Ms. Maria.
“My dream is to become an immigration lawyer, to help people like me,” Ana says. “I want to fight for my future.”
To donate or volunteer, visit hiaspa.org, projectlibertad.org and nscphila.org.
