New York
Fears of ICE Raids Turn Streets Quiet in Heavily Hispanic Part of NYC
The taco joint just around the corner from Corona Plaza, the beating heart of one of New York City’s largest Latin American neighborhoods, fell quiet in the days after President Trump was inaugurated.
The restaurant’s Mexican waitress, who is undocumented, witnessed federal immigration authorities arrest someone a few blocks from the plaza, and now limits her time outside, afraid that being on the street leaves her more vulnerable to immigration agents. She dwells on the incident as she stares at empty tables once packed with immigrant families and construction workers.
Across the street, sales have plummeted at a Colombian bakery. The shop used to take in about $1,600 most mornings selling soups and pastries, but now makes about $900. Workers at the bakery scour WhatsApp groups for news of immigration raids in the neighborhood, even as the messaging app swirls with misinformation.
And at the Guatemalan restaurant at the edge of the plaza, fewer customers are dining in, with sales declining by about half. But takeout orders have picked up.
“Everyone calls for food now,” Linda Hernandez, 44, said as she served a baked tamal to one of four customers in the 20-seat restaurant in early February, next to a sign warning people not to open their doors to immigration authorities. “No one wants to sit down to eat.”
From New York to California, Mr. Trump’s campaign to arrest and deport millions of undocumented immigrants has spread fear and consternation, instantly subduing once-lively neighborhoods across the United States.
The administration began with a media blitz, publicizing raids in big cities and deportation flights to Latin America. The showmanship was supported by some early numbers that showed an increase in immigration arrests, even as the authorities appear to be struggling to round up enough people to meet Mr. Trump’s mass deportation goals. The shock-and-awe tactic, however, has profoundly rattled immigrant communities.
Few neighborhoods in New York were paralyzed like Corona, a working-class enclave that is about 75 percent Hispanic, home to generations of immigrants from Mexico, Colombia, Ecuador, the Dominican Republic and elsewhere.
But Corona was also one of the neighborhoods that swung most sharply toward Mr. Trump in last year’s election. Mr. Trump’s inroads, in Corona and elsewhere, exposed simmering tension between established immigrants and more recent arrivals who crossed the border during an era of more lenient Democratic policies.
Immigration, legal and otherwise, has long shaped this stretch of northern Queens. Waves of migration transformed Corona from an Italian stronghold at the turn of the 20th century into a magnet for African American families after World War II, and then a bustling hub for Central and South Americans in recent decades.
That diversity has been most palpable in Corona Plaza, once a forlorn lot. The city paved it into a modest pedestrian plaza that quickly pulsated with life as vendors moved in to sell chorizos and cafe de olla, filling the air with a mix of Spanish dialects. Nearby, on Roosevelt Avenue, the aroma of Colombian coffee melded with the scent of lomo saltado from Peru, the blaring rhythms of cumbia and reggaeton and the roar of the elevated No. 7 train.
Many residents here crowd into cheap apartments with strangers. Most work the service jobs that form the backbone of the city’s economy: cleaning, cooking, building.
Many are undocumented.
So it was perhaps no surprise that the once-bustling plaza, and the streets around it, cleared out the day Mr. Trump was inaugurated. Immigrants stayed indoors. Food vendors retreated. And many people continued to stay off the streets as U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents fanned out across the city a week later, an absence that hurt local businesses.
The combination of deportation fears, frigid temperatures and a recent police crackdown on illegal vending all helped mute the neighborhood — and created an eerily familiar scene in what was once the epicenter of the coronavirus pandemic. The virus killed hundreds in Corona and hobbled the area’s economic recovery.
“It reminds me of Covid, but this is new,” said Fernando Cando, 48, who moved to Queens from Ecuador with his family in 1982, when he was a young boy. “If I were to sum it up with one word, it’s panic. We’ve never seen this.”
Mr. Cando owns Leticias, an Ecuadorean restaurant with dishes based on his mother’s recipes. He said he recently began brushing up on his workers’ rights in case ICE shows up at the restaurant. He has instructed the workers not to run from agents, and has wondered whether they could take refuge in the restaurant’s basement. Despite the fear, his workers continue to show up, even if diners aren’t always there with the same frequency.
ICE sightings — whether real, imagined or distorted on social media and text threads — dominate conversations. Some parents have stopped sending their children to school. And some families are talking about moving back to their home countries: the “self-deportation” that the Trump administration is actively encouraging.
Liliana Sanchez, who migrated from Mexico two decades ago, said she spotted ICE officers almost daily in the neighborhood after Mr. Trump took office, usually knocking on people’s doors. The sightings have been less frequent recently. But her two children, who are U.S. citizens, still call her after school to make sure she has not been detained in Corona Plaza while selling atole, a hot masa-based Mexican drink.
“They’re afraid for me every time I come sell,” Ms. Sanchez, 38, said in Spanish. “But if I stay home, who’s going to bring home the money for rent?”
Immigration lawyers are being inundated with calls from immigrants seeking answers to basic questions: Can they go to work, seek care at hospitals and call the police to report a crime without being deported?
“The phones are ringing off the hook,” said Anibal Romero, an immigration lawyer whose office overlooking Corona Plaza has received as many as 700 calls a day since Mr. Trump’s inauguration, up from just under 100 a day. “We’ve frankly become an emergency room for mental health.”
Even so, the heightened anxiety, described by nearly two dozen Corona residents in interviews with The New York Times, belies a complicated reality.
In New York City, and across the country, Mr. Trump made significant gains in many working-class immigrant neighborhoods like Corona. He captured 46 percent of the national Latino vote on his way to victory and bucked conventional wisdom about Hispanics’ support of the Democratic Party.
Kamala Harris still won Corona with about 57 percent of the vote, but underperformed compared with Joseph R. Biden Jr. in 2020, who won the area with 77 percent of the vote. Mr. Trump garnered about 3,000 more votes in Corona in 2024 than in 2020, winning entire precincts and nearly doubling his vote share to 42 percent, up from 23 percent four years before.
Mr. Trump won over Hispanics who were upset about the economy, but also tapped into resentment among established immigrants over what they regarded as preferential treatment — including temporary legal status, work permits and free shelter — given to migrants who arrived during the Biden administration.
In New York City, that pent-up frustration led to intense friction amid a three-year influx of 230,000 migrants who spilled into Corona and other neighborhoods. Longtime residents — even undocumented immigrants who can’t vote — raised quality-of-life concerns that many attributed to the recent arrivals.
Business owners in Corona Plaza complained about an increase in homelessness and street vendors without licenses in recent years. Local officials and residents lamented excessive trash and flashes of violence among intoxicated men who they said created visible disorder that scared off customers. And a prostitution problem long plaguing parts of Roosevelt Avenue grew worse.
That all led Mayor Eric Adams, a Democrat, to deploy more police officers to the area and crack down on brothels and illegal vending last year, leading to a noticeable decline in both.
For some Corona residents, it was too little, too late.
Altagracia Fernandez, from the Dominican Republic, said the deteriorating conditions had nearly caused her to shutter the beauty salon she opened 35 years ago. Things got so bad, she said, that hosing down human excrement outside her shop became a regular morning chore.
“I always voted Democratic, but I couldn’t take it anymore,” said Ms. Fernandez, 63, who voted for Mr. Trump. “The situation got too severe. I’m fighting for what is mine,” she said, referring to her salon.
Pastor Victor Tiburcio, the spiritual leader of Aliento de Vida, a Pentecostal church on Corona Plaza with more than 2,500 congregants from 30 countries, has been grappling with those contradictions since Mr. Trump’s election.
On a recent Sunday, Mr. Tiburcio leaned on a message of hope. He urged worried churchgoers to be mindful of misinformation and not to fear calling 911 or going to the hospital.
“Don’t abstain from doing what you have to do out of fear for ICE,” he said in a crowded theater-turned-church, a glimmer of the vibrancy that has not been fully extinguished in the neighborhood. “Finding God is an SOS during these times.”
In an interview after the service, Mr. Tiburcio, who migrated from the Dominican Republic 27 years ago, reflected on what he said was the silver lining of Mr. Trump’s crackdown. Almost overnight, he said, the president’s tough talk had scared off unruly migrants whom the pastor blamed for “fetid” conditions in Corona and for tarnishing the working-class values that defined immigrants.
“Those people that arrived here in the past few years — and I can’t say all of them, because I’m an immigrant, too — but we noticed something weird,” said Mr. Tiburcio, referring to instances of loitering and public drinking.
“Once Trump came in, they disappeared,” he continued. “Immigrants should be welcomed, helped. The Bible says that. But the Bible does not say that an immigrant has a right to delinquency.”
Other immigrants, though uneasy about the high-profile crimes committed by some recent arrivals, were more wary of stoking rifts between recent immigrants and those who have been here longer.
“It’s not resentment,” said Faviana Linares, who migrated from Mexico nearly three decades ago. “You have to be very brave to leave everything behind and bring your family here. I admire those people.”
Ms. Linares, 47, left everything behind when she departed Puebla — so many people have migrated from the Mexican region that New York has become known as “Puebla York” — and settled in Corona. She has made a living cleaning apartments, initially for well below the minimum wage, while her husband works at restaurants. They are both undocumented, but their three children are U.S. citizens.
Like many mixed-status families, they have made emergency plans in case the parents are deported: Their 24-year-old daughter would become the guardian of the two other children.
Despite the ever-present possibility that the family will be separated — Ms. Linares has cousins who were deported — she said she has concentrated on transmitting hope to her children and neighbors amid the doom-and-gloom headlines.
Recently, that has meant channeling her energy into the immigrant advocacy group she belongs to, Make the Road New York, which opened a new office across from Corona Plaza in February, just as the neighborhood fell quiet.
“Our only crime was to cross that border,” Ms. Linares said. “It’s not fair to feel persecuted. All we came to do was to work with dignity.”
Alex Lemonides and Keith Collins contributed reporting.
Audio produced by Patricia Sulbarán.
New York
How a Family of 5 Lives on $46,000 a Year in Wakefield
How can people possibly afford to live in one of the most expensive cities on the planet? It’s a question New Yorkers hear a lot, often delivered with a mix of awe, pity and confusion.
We surveyed hundreds of New Yorkers about how they spend, splurge and save. We found that many people — rich, poor or somewhere in between — live life as a series of small calculations that add up to one big question: What makes living in New York worth it?
Glennys Torres’s door in the Bronx is, at once, a portal to a small business and a home. Stepping in, a cacophony of children’s voices rises from the first floor. Along the stairs that lead to the second floor are paper tapestries covered in finger paint drying in the midafternoon sun.
These are the early signs of a business beginning to flourish, but one that comes with risks.
For much of her adulthood, Ms. Torres, 36, worked long hours as a teacher’s assistant in Manhattan, living in her mother-in-law’s rent controlled apartment in the Bronx with her family of five.
But after 10 years, Ms. Torres felt as if her wages were stagnating at the same time the city was getting more expensive. Despite a decade of experience, she lacked a teaching degree, which prevented her from getting raises, she said.
So last year, Ms. Torres made the decision to leave behind the security of her job to start a day care — one that she hopes will eventually offer her family the ability to propel themselves across income brackets and ZIP codes.
“I know one day I’d like to have a house with a backyard where my kids can play and get dirty and I can garden,” said Ms. Torres, who immigrated to New York from the Dominican Republic at 18. “I don’t need luxuries, I would still manage my business but just maybe from a house upstate. It would be nice to not worry about rent every month.”
Budgeting with Debt
Before opening the day care, Ms. Torres earned $46,000 annually, which amounted to roughly $36,000 a year after taxes. Her husband, Edward Torres, 39, works part time as a home health aide and his earnings brought the family’s after tax income to roughly $45,000.
The income wasn’t high enough to qualify for small business loans, so Ms. Torres took what little savings she had and poured it into the lease for the day care. That cost $10,500, including first and last month’s rent plus a security deposit.
The family now lives on the second floor of the building in the Wakefield section of the Bronx and operates the day care downstairs.
“I feel proud, but, at the same time, I feel a lot of fear because what happens if none of this works? What will I do then?” Ms. Torres said. “I used to cry every first day of the month because I knew rent was due. I still do cry — a lot.”
At first, the business was slow to take off. For six months, they only had one student. Ms. Torres would compose herself in front of parents, but would often go to an empty room to sob alone.
Today, the family pays $3,500 a month for a renovated 3-bedroom apartment and $3,500 a month to lease the unit below them for the day care. Utilities stack up: roughly $500 in electricity for both units, $200 for the family’s cellphone plan and about $80 a month for the internet.
Ms. Torres, who has an associate degree in business, used credit cards in order to finance her business. The family currently has over $20,000 in business related debt and has had to tighten the spending belt.
“Money right now, there’s not enough. Literalmente,” said Ms. Torres, speaking Spanglish. “Sometimes I feel bad, like I can’t do enough for my kids.”
Her husband earns $19.65 per hour, working 20 hours per week. The rest of the time he is at the center, driving children via a car-pooling service they offer. The family receives SNAP benefits for food, but estimates that they still spend almost $200 a month on groceries.
Affording Summer Camp
While working her old job, Ms. Torres struggled with where to send her children during the day. They would sometimes return home rattled from free summer camps offered by public schools. There were fights, unruly children and overworked teachers, she said. Leaving them at home in front of a screen was no better.
With the day care, she can keep an eye on her children upstairs while she runs the business downstairs. Most importantly, she makes sure none of the children are glued to their devices.
“I have a zero electronics policy,” Ms. Torres said. “If you are with a kid and he’s on a tablet, he’s not processing the world around him. But if you give him a paint brush and a canvas, you see his personality start to come out.”
The day care’s name is a nod to this value: Little Creators Daycare.
The family caught a break with The Fresh Air Fund, which provides sleepaway camps to children in underserved communities, including free gear, transportation and lodging. The family enrolled their three children in a camp set up in honor of 15-year-old Lesandro “Junior” Guzman-Feliz, who was a victim of gang violence in the Bronx.
Ms. Torres’s oldest son, Ryan, 16, has attended for eight years and is a camp counselor in training. Her other two children, Darius, 11, and Evander, 10, are returning for their third summer.
“I wanted them to be in nature, play in the dirt, get dirty,” Ms. Torres said. “When they came back saying that they couldn’t wait for next year, I knew it was the right decision.”
New Business, New Opportunities
Ms. Torres uses free time to pick up extra work. She prepares paperwork for other day cares, earning $150 per consultation.
After months of struggling, Ms. Torres now has nine students, which pulls in roughly $4,500 a month — just enough to break even. On a recent Tuesday she fielded calls from families hoping to enroll their children. Business was picking up.
“I can feel things are starting to turn around,” Ms. Torres said. “The parents love me, and I have five stars on Google.”
Over the past year the family has had to cut out gifts, activities and expenses in order to focus on the business. Ms. Torres and her husband used to go on frequent dates, but they last went out on Juneteenth. They went to a happy hour at Pier 26, spending less than $50 on a glass of cabernet sauvignon, an order of calamari and a chicken appetizer.
Good news arrived in the spring when Ms. Torres learned that she had qualified for the city’s 2-K program. She expects eight to 12 students in the fall at a higher price point per student than traditional day care, and she will also be able to offer “after-school” day care when the 2-K day wraps up.
When she told her landlord about the new income he cut her a deal: He said he would give her four months rent free as a way to invest in her business so that he could keep her as a long term tenant.
“There was one point when I said to my husband, ‘I think I’m going to give this house back and go back to your mother’s,’” Ms. Torres said. “That wasn’t long ago and my husband said, ‘Stop, you have the experience to do this. You can do this.’ He was right. I left my job for this. I can’t backtrack. This is New York City.”
We are talking to New Yorkers about how they spend, splurge and save.
New York
How ‘The Wire’ Star Jamie Hector Spends a Hot Day in Brooklyn
Nearly two decades have passed since “The Wire” ended, yet Jamie Hector’s haunting turn as the drug kingpin Marlo Stanfield still resonates. Jay-Z recently referred to the character during a freestyle at the Roots Picnic.
“I respect the fact that artists find time to appreciate another artist in that way,” Mr. Hector said. “I consider the work that we do at the highest level with great art. His is literary. His is over a track, making you feel, and mine was visual.”
Mr. Hector, 50, also a director, producer and children’s book author, has devoted much of his life to the arts as one of television’s most compelling, understated figures, currently seen in Apple TV’s “Cape Fear.”
He splits his time between his family, dramatic roles, his own projects and shepherding the next generation of artists. Mr. Hector spent a recent blistering Thursday in Brooklyn with The New York Times.
New York
How a Museum Security Guard and Artist Lives on $51,000 in Parkchester
How can people possibly afford to live in one of the most expensive cities on the planet? It’s a question New Yorkers hear a lot, often delivered with a mix of awe, pity and confusion.
We surveyed hundreds of New Yorkers about how they spend, splurge and save. We found that many people — rich, poor or somewhere in between — live life as a series of small calculations that add up to one big question: What makes living in New York worth it?
Ryan Compton knows a thing or two about gigs. To make it in New York, he has worked as a retail associate inside the Museum of Modern Art’s gift store, a cashier for a downtown taqueria and a paint mixer for Takashi Murakami. He has experienced the paradox of a city both known for its artists and for pricing artists out.
Financial constraints forced Mr. Compton, who is from South Jersey, to move away from New York twice over the course of two decades. He has lived in Baltimore, Chicago and Philadelphia, but remains convinced the resources and people inside New York are unparalleled.
“You never know who you’re going to run into,” he said. “Everyone’s curious about each other.”
Since moving back in 2022, he has whittled down his source of income to a single gig as a security guard at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where he made $51,000 before taxes last year. It’s his second time at the museum. He first worked there part-time in 2011 before leaving in 2015 to earn his master’s degree in sculpture from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago.
“I know I couldn’t afford graduate school and the cost of living in New York at the same time,” he said.
A third try at New York life has forced Mr. Compton, now 46, to confront the sustainability behind a career as both an interdisciplinary artist and a security guard — even inside one of the most famous museums in the world.
Love at First Sight (With New York)
As an undergraduate student at the Maryland Institute College of Art, Mr. Compton looked forward to spending weekends at his friend’s apartment gallery in the East Village in Manhattan.
A combination of showing face and knowing the right person led to his side project at the time — fashioning 3-d printed stuffed animals with skull faces — which were featured in an issue of Vogue Japan. He even sold a few inside a handmade craft store in Tokyo’s Ginza district for about $1,000.
“I was interested in the contrast between fuzzy-shaped animals and skulls,” he said, later adding, “You know, stuff when you’re a 20-something-year-old being kind of edgy.”
The early moment of success propelled Mr. Compton to chase after opportunities to showcase his work. While supporting himself financially through retail and service jobs, he helped write the artist Roman Ondak’s interactive performance piece at MoMA, “Measuring the Universe;” and worked as a collaborator for “No Souls for Sale,” an experimental project temporarily at Dia Chelsea and later, the Tate Modern in London. Both went unpaid.
“The chance to work in modern art before I was 30 is unheard of,” Mr. Compton said. “It only happens in New York.”
A Slower Pace
Tens of thousands of people flock to the Metropolitan on weekends, and it’s Mr. Compton’s job — one he has found increasingly difficult — to make sure the art is untouched. He believes social media has altered the way visitors engage with the museum. Think more selfies and poses leaned against Hellenistic marble.
The one hour work commute from Parkchester in the East Bronx gives him time to prepare for a long day ahead. He splits a two-bedroom with a co-worker for $1,000 a month and pays $50 in utilities. Heat and water are included in his rent, and his roommate covers the cost of Wi-Fi. He pays $90 each month for his phone bill.
The slower pace of the residential neighborhood matches the stage of life he’s in now. In the last few years, Mr. Compton has slowed down as he has come to terms with the expenses behind his art.
He no longer has free access to fabrication laboratories pegged to his university, and he has opted for the more cost-friendly hobbies of zine-making and book binding. He is, however, eyeing a $1,000 3-d printer. For now, he has settled on $20 a month Photoshop subscription.
The largest constraint tempering Mr. Compton’s spending is his $100,000 student loan debt from graduate school. The window for his deferment period closed, and even with some money he inherited after his mother passed, he says he needs a miracle to finish paying off his loans. “I’m not sure what to do anymore,” he said.
Splurging on Plants and Experimental Harsh Noise Records
Mr. Compton may not have any children, but he is a proud “plant dad.”
His apartment houses $1,000 worth of plants sourced through Facebook groups, pop-ups and by following Brooklyn Horticulture online. He typically pays $30-$50 for medium to large sized plants, but he is constantly on the lookout for deals.
When he isn’t at home with his plants, Mr. Compton treks into Manhattan to do his weekly grocery shopping at Trader Joe’s. He prefers the prices there to local spots in the Bronx and estimates he spends $70 each week.
A cash guzzler of Mr. Compton’s food budget is the $20 a day — an additional $80 a week — he spends at the Metropolitan’s staff cafeteria for breakfast and lunch. When working 12 hour shifts, “I’m not gonna go home and make something to bring the next day,” he said.
On his days off, he seeks out affordable food deals. He frequents Vanessa’s Dumplings in Chinatown for their $8 dumpling special.
When in the mood to treat himself, Mr. Compton rides the train a few more stops out to Ridgewood, Queens and Bushwick, Brooklyn, to visit his favorite record stores like Fringe Records and Nexus Records. An experimental harsh noise aficionado, he spends no less than $100 each visit.
His biggest and most recent splurge was a 10-day trip to Tokyo, Kyoto and Osaka in Japan in February. He was able to cut his $900 round trip ticket to $700 with credit card points. Add in the cost of hotels, meals and souvenirs, he spent close to $5,000 total.
“I wanted to go because my artwork had been to Japan, but I haven’t been to Japan,” he said.
Looking Ahead
Mr. Compton wants to strike a balance between saving and enjoying the life he dreamed of in New York. To help pay off his loans, he considered applying to be an art handler for the Metropolitan, a job with a slight pay bump. But without his present benefit of overtime pay, he’s afraid he would be making less than he does currently.
Over the years, Mr. Compton has found community among other security guards at the Metropolitan, who, like him, are artists. He has also built inroads with notable names at the museum, one being Sheena Wagstaff, the former chairman of modern and contemporary art, who he said took the time to know Mr. Compton not only as a co-worker, but also as an individual, too.
Because of his connections, he feels like he has nowhere else to go. He considered a quieter lifestyle upstate in Westchester or the Catskills, but believes he will make less money outside of the city. And, of course, he would have to leave the place he’s called home for the majority of his adult years.
“I did four other cities, and they weren’t as good or great as I like New York,” he said. “I always end up here.”
We are talking to New Yorkers about how they spend, splurge and save.
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