Gabriela's dream family vacation to Disney World in Florida turned into an urgent escape from the terror wrought by cartel violence in Ecuador. Describing her previous life in Guayaquil—a typical middle-class existence with a stable job in television and a mortgage—Gabriela never thought she'd become a target. However, the alarming rise in organized crime ravaging her city, exacerbated by drug cartels tussling over traffic routes, turned her life upside down.
Initially dismissing extortion threats as issues confined to wealthier individuals, Gabriela’s world shattered when she received a personal warning: pay a gang or risk being murdered. Her fears escalated when her daughter's grandfather was kidnapped, yielding horrifying footage of his brutalization as the kidnappers demanded a ransom. He was ultimately killed, leaving a grim message for the family—his severed finger in a container.
Compelled to ensure her and her daughter’s survival, Gabriela's partner urged them to leave for the planned trip, never to return. Now, amid an influx of asylum seekers from Latin America fleeing similar gang brutality, Gabriela finds herself caught in a convoluted legal maze in the United States. Navigating a complex web of asylum laws that inadequately respond to cartel violence complicates her path to safety—violence not fitting neatly into established categories for asylum, such as persecution based on race or political opinion.
Experts note that the Biden administration reversed some Trump-era policies that had further restricted asylum claims, yet many applicants remain in a state of limbo as the law remains unchanged. Cartel violence, which can be linked to broader issues of state corruption, further complicates applicants' claims. Gabriela aims to frame her case as political asylum, arguing that due to police collusion with gangs, justice is unattainable in Ecuador.
While the asylum process drags on—often lasting years due to extensive backlogs—migrants like Gabriela are not just battling bureaucracy; they live under the constant strain of deportation fears. Stress compounds as asylum claims are historically met with skepticism, especially amidst accusations of "material support" for cartels that could hinder their cases.
Gabriela's work permit allows her to toil long hours in a factory, securing a fragile existence that hinders her from relaxing or forgetting her trauma. She wallows in worries about potential deportation and experiences racial hostility, concerns echoed by others like Maria—a lesbian from Durán—who fled after enduring extortion threats and growing violence.
Highlighting a broader narrative, taxi driver Luis, who similarly escaped gang violence, emphasizes that his decision to emigrate was born from a fear for his life as friends were murdered. While he, Gabriela, and Maria confront the complexities of asylum applications amid increasing hostility from US immigration policies, they seek to redefine their identities as true victims deserving of refuge.
As families like Gabriela's fight for recognition as asylum seekers fleeing terror, they express a longing for safety and normalcy. Amid national debates on immigration policy and perceptions of asylum seekers, these families represent the immediate essence of survival—yearning to live free from fear and violence, hopeful for a life where they can thrive and contribute as legal residents.
