Community members in northwest Washington are gathering support for an immigrant resource center.

In September, Democrats in Whatcom County unanimously passed a resolution backing the establishment of an immigrant resource center in Bellingham. The campaign is coming in the lead-up to Bellingham Mayor Seth Fleetwood's budget unveiling on Oct. 24.

Australia Tobon, a member of the Immigrant Advisory Board in Bellingham, said a physical space for people to gather is important for the community's large immigrant population.

"Our board has done research with community, with community input, regarding this idea that immigrants contribute in many different ways," Tobon explained. "Not just financial, but also culturally, and also disproportionately impacted by a lot of the stressors going on in our communities with the immigration system."

One in 10 residents of Whatcom County was born outside the U.S., which is about 24,000 people, but only about half are naturalized citizens, according to the Immigrant Resource Center proposal to the City of Bellingham.

The mayor of Bellingham did not respond by deadline on whether the immigrant resource center would be included in the city's budget.

Homero Jose, who lives in Ferndale, a small town north of Bellingham, said some people who come to the community do not speak English as a first language and the communication barrier can build a wall around people, but a resource center could provide assistance.

"To understand the process to get involved in the community, it gets more difficult," Jose pointed out. "Like simply get a driver's license, they don't know where to get it. They don't know someone that will translate for them unless they have a family or good friend that will go with them. Just basic needs that can make a big difference."

Tobon added the resource center is not just about providing services, but also helping people participate in civic life. She contended it is needed to build trust with immigrant communities.

"We do have a community that is fearful of speaking up and speaking out," Tobon asserted. "We've heard this through countless interviews and testimony and even board members who are now on the immigration advisory board, and we don't want to dismiss that."

Community members have shown support for a resource center in other ways, including folding 10,000 origami butterflies and displaying them around the city. The campaign was called "migration makes us stronger" and used butterflies to signify migration is natural.

"Deported veterans" may sound like an oxymoron. But it is not, and those veterans are working to get pardons in the last days of President Joe Biden's term.

Around the country, 94,000 veterans do not have citizenship, which means, if they violate certain laws, they are at risk of deportation regardless of their service record.

Laura Meza Alvarado, a formerly deported veteran living in Maryland on humanitarian parole, is part of a program to allow deported veterans to enter the U.S. to access Department of Veterans Affairs health care.

Meza was brought to the U.S. from Costa Rica in 1985 by her parents. She enlisted in the Army at 23 years old but did not receive her citizenship. She said there was a lot of confusion around her immigration status.

"The recruiter had mentioned some different things," Meza recounted. "They made promises like, 'Oh well, you know, when you go into the military, if you go to combat, you're going to be an automatic citizen.' So you hear different things from people, and it's just maybe a tactic to get you to enlist."

Any green-card holder enlisting in the military can file paperwork to become a citizen on their first day at boot camp. Meza pointed out confusion, in addition to dealing with military sexual trauma and PTSD while in the service, meant she left the service without her citizenship.

Meza then began using drugs and alcohol to cope with the trauma she experienced. She eventually was convicted of attempted robbery and was deported after serving two years in prison.

Danitza James, president of Repatriate Our Patriots, argued by the time Meza had committed a crime, she should have already been a citizen.

"That conviction, for her, bars her from applying for U.S. citizenship," James stressed. "Despite her honorable combat service, she's not eligible to obtain or seek naturalization, something that should have happened while she was in service."

Under the Immigration and Nationality Act, Meza is barred from applying for citizenship because of the charge.

Deported veterans such as Meza are running up against the clock. President-elect Donald Trump campaigned this year on a promise of mass deportations. James noted Meza and deported veterans like her would be at risk under such policies. She argued Biden must honor his commitment to veterans.

"President Biden, this is something that you must honor, and these are the same veterans that fought alongside his son," James urged. "We owe it to them to act. It's a shame that we are good enough to serve and die for this country but not good enough to live and get a second chance in this country."

In July 2021, the Departments of Homeland Security and Veterans Affairs created the Immigrant Military Members and Veterans Initiative. At the end of 2023, more than 90 veterans had reentered the U.S. through the program.

One New Yorker is redoubling efforts to get a pardon from Gov. Kathy Hochul.

Pascal "Shakoure" Charpentier has called New York his home for 52 years after being born on an Army base in Germany but Immigration and Customs Enforcement is trying to deport him for being a Haitian immigrant -- which he isn't -- citing a criminal conviction from his youth. Charpentier worries about President-elect Donald Trump's mass deportation plan, which he said would threaten people like himself with complicated immigration status.

"It's very difficult to imagine what day-to-day life would be like when you're constantly worrying if there's going to be a van in front of your house," Charpentier pointed out. "Am I going to be stopped at my workplace and asked to come out and then, find myself in handcuffs?"

Polls show half of Americans support the mass deportation plan despite the economic impacts it would have. Charpentier has presented evidence proving his naturalized status but prosecutors dismiss it. He added there has not been an official reason to deny the pardon and suspects politics are at play. He said he is holding out hope a pardon could still be granted.

After being released from a New Jersey detention center in 2020, he had to wear an ankle monitor. Now, he wears a wrist monitor, which Charpentier emphasized greatly impacts his daily life. He often meets with clients in his work as an interactive media designer, noting it is hard to keep the order of deportation from affecting his career.

"Sometimes I may be in a meeting with a client and my ankle monitor goes off, or I'm called in to report for a check-in," Charpentier explained. "Many times it is very inflexible."

The first time he was detained, he said he lost a significant number of clients. Following his release, he had to rebuild and restart. But as draining as it can be, he added it empowers him to continue.


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With 2025 almost here, organizations assisting Minnesota's Latino populations say they're laser focused on a couple of areas - mental health-care access and securing temporary protections to those fleeing violence in Ecuador.

Communities Organizing Latino Power and Action, or COPAL, says the two issues can overlap.

Federal officials face increasing pressure to grant Temporary Protected Status to Ecuadorians residing in Minnesota and other states. TPS allows these individuals to work in the U.S. on a short-term basis.

The Coordinator for COPAL's Workers' Center, Claudia Lainez, said not everyone qualifies for asylum status - but added that there's the same level of desire to fill labor shortages.

"We have a lot of workers that are ready to take some of these jobs," said Lainez, "but they don't have the proper documentation to do so."

Ecuador isn't on the list of countries with TPS designation. Calls for urgency grow with the likelihood of a mass deportation plan under the incoming Trump administration.

Critics of the program say it has stretched beyond its original mission.

Meanwhile, COPAL is working with local partners to overcome language barriers for Latinos needing health care, including those still feeling past trauma from their native country.

Cecilia Calabria is COPAL's health promoter manager - and she said overall, access to health insurance and care can be hard for Latinos because of those language barriers and trust issues about reaching out.

For mental health care, she said the language problem is very noticeable.

"Mental health is not something that you can do with an interpreter," said Calabria. "You really need to do it in your own language, in the way you can express."

Calabria added that there's mental health stigma within the Latino community, and for chronic health needs, there's an information gap in seeking preventive care.

She said that often stems from the landscape in the countries they immigrated from.

COPAL's health navigators link these populations with resources.

Starting in 2025, Minnesota will allow undocumented individuals to apply for certain forms of state health coverage aid, so long as they meet various requirements.