Atlanta’s Black immigrant communities feel the weight of new Trump policies
Credit: TNS
When Ikhlas Mohammad came to Atlanta from Sudan in 2018 as an asylum-seeker, she leaned on friends and family to survive. She left behind her husband, hoping he would soon follow.
Seven years later, her husband’s visa case is still stalled in the U.S. consulate in Ethiopia, and Mohammad said she has not received updates from the embassy, though she has been able to visit her husband. Their daughter, now two-and-a-half, has never met her father.
“His case has been pending for about five years now... It’s stuck in the consulate office in Ethiopia, and we don’t know how long it’s going to take,” Mohammad said.
Now working with New American Pathways as an economic empowerment coordinator, Mohammad helps immigrants gain English language skills and secure necessities like driver’s licenses.
In addition to her advocacy work, she founded Nanna’s Cuisine, a catering business inspired by her mother’s traditional Sudanese recipes, and “CR Talk,” a global podcast that brings together people from diverse backgrounds for meaningful conversations about the human experience.
As she sees it, the pain of separation and the burden of uncertainty go far beyond paperwork.
“Most immigrants accept very difficult work conditions because they don’t speak English. They’re not going to get high-skill, well-paid jobs, and they often work long hours just to provide for their families,” Mohammad said.
“Mental health is really highly impacted, but people aren’t speaking about it because it’s not something that’s accepted to talk about in our communities.”
Her family’s ongoing separation and her clients’ daily battles are just two reflections of a much larger story.
The Atlanta metro area is the epicenter of one of the nation’s largest African populations, but in recent months, that culturally diverse community has found itself under increasing pressure because of volatile immigration policies introduced under the newest Trump administration.
Many Black immigrants with legal status fear deportation, saying their presence feels uncertain despite following the law. Recent increases in arrests and detentions of legally registered immigrants have heightened those concerns for many across the country.
Since January of this year, new travel bans have been enacted on multiple African countries, alongside a sharp escalation in aggressive U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement operations across the country. These crackdowns have led to the detention of immigrants — both documented and undocumented — many of whom are being held in facilities that, according to numerous firsthand accounts, lack the basic amenities to sustain humane, long-term confinement.
In addition, the Supreme Court, in a 6-3 ruling, limited the ability of federal judges to issue nationwide injunctions affecting legal challenges to President Donald Trump’s executive order to restrict birthright citizenship.
The administration has also moved to terminate Temporary Protected Status (TPS) for Haitian nationals, a decision that could displace tens of thousands of individuals who have lived legally in the United States for years under humanitarian protections.
In Georgia, where according to U.S. Census data more than 120,000 residents were born in Africa and 91,000 in the Caribbean, that pressure is felt by immigrants living in metro Atlanta. Many of those who were applying for legal status have now found themselves in limbo because of halted refugee programs, suspended asylum systems and deep uncertainty created by executive orders.
That urgency was echoed during a recent discussion among African and Caribbean leaders in Atlanta. Participants included Donna McLeod, the first Caribbean-born person elected to the Georgia House of Representatives; Patricia Henry, executive director of the Atlanta Caribbean Carnival; and Lucita Simervil, a philanthropist and CEO of Lucita Accounting Firm.
McLeod felt that more people of the Caribbean diaspora should seek office to ensure Caribbean voices are present during lawmaking procedures.
“We need to know our rights, and we need to make sure that our elected officials are doing their job,” McLeod said. “Politics is what gets you elected. Governance is what you do when you get there.”
McLeod encouraged eligible Black immigrants to seek citizenship and vote, pointing to the national consequences of local elections.
Henry, president of the Atlanta Caribbean Carnival, addressed a sense of detachment from some members of the Black immigrant community.
“I keep hearing this narrative from immigrants who say, ‘I’m not affected because I came here the right way,’” Henry said. “But what we’re seeing — especially with recent Supreme Court decisions — is a pattern that could impact even those with legal status.”
Simervil shared a personal story of a relative whose visa process was derailed by the new travel bans on Haiti. She called for greater unity and collaboration within Black immigrant communities.
“We need to unite. We need to come together. We need to be stronger, you understand? Because it takes a village,“ Simervil said. “I think we, as a community, need to be stronger.”
Mohammad has lived that need for community support every day, first as a newcomer relying on others and now as a leader helping others find their way.
She rejected the idea that immigrants are a drain on society, offering instead a portrait of determined, capable people who give more than they receive.
“It’s a myth that immigrants and refugees come to the country as a burden,” Mohammad said. “They come with their talents, they come with their vision, they come with their experience ... They contribute to the economy and they contribute to the cultural aspect of life here.” she said.
Mohammad explained her hopes for the work she has done in the community, hoping to establish her clients as contributing members of American society, and allow them to have the freedom to prosper.
“They get support to start their credit journey, credit-building journey, to have car ownership, homeownership, have access to work through access to education,” Mohammad said. “Through like applying for college or GED and helping the most to access different resources, like child care, like any service that would help them to break the barriers that affecting them as women in the communities.”
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About the Author
Zaire Breedlove is an intern for AJC's UATL and a journalism major at Kennesaw State University. In the past, he's written and managed The Sentinel, and served as a Reporter for Fresh Take Georgia at the Center for Sustainable Journalism, focusing on Immigration and statewide political coverage.
