Migrants Out in the Cold

More than half of New York voters say the state should back Trump’s mass deportations. But new migrants aren’t alone.

Luis Feliz Leon

A family returns to Floyd Bennett Field migrant shelter on Christmas Day 2024. Andrew Lichtenstein/Corbis via Getty Images

FLATBUSH, N.Y. — Shelves of weathered shoes line the purple basement walls of the Bridge, a nonprofit, on Dec. 14, 2024. Used coats hang from rolling racks. Residents of Floyd Bennett Field, a remote former airport-turned-migrant-shelter in Brooklyn, queue up with slips of paper in their hands, listing the ages and genders of their children. Kids weave among parents’ legs before moving to the second floor for childcare. 

Waiting is part of the ordeal for migrant families in shelters. But now the stakes have increased. The 2,000 Floyd Bennett Field residents will soon be moved to other shelters, and questions loom: Do other shelters have space? Will kids be pulled from school? Will commutes get worse for the lucky few with working papers? 

The scheduled move came after the mutual aid group Floyd Bennett Field Neighbors — with whom I was volunteering that day to hand out winter clothing — testified before the City Council in November 2024. The group called to close the shelter, which sits on federal land, out of fear it would be a target for raids or conversion into a detention center under President Donald Trump.

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Migrant families sheltering at Floyd Bennett Field are no strangers to tumultuous journeys. Many crossed treacherous terrain as they traveled north through the jungle of the Darién Gap, between Colombia and Panama. But some families have found a modicum of stability, especially as their kids enrolled in schools. 

I only ask those in charge, and even God, to help us relocate somewhere close to my children’s schools,” Montilla, an asylum seeker from Venezuela, told Documented in December 2024. They won’t know anyone and will have to start all over again.” 

They knew the relocation would require them to trudge across the city with suitcases carrying their sparse belongings. We’re a family of five,” says a woman from Venezuela in line at the Bridge. A volunteer hands her a duffel bag with wheels and a smaller bag for her son. 

Another Floyd Bennett resident comes in wearing his wife’s coat, which fit him a little too snugly. A volunteer named Maureen notices and asks if he needs a coat for himself; he beams, a big smile fading into chagrin. Another volunteer points out that a bigger coat would let him layer a chunky sweater underneath. 

Small recognitions like these led to the formation of Floyd Bennett Field Neighbors. People were getting on the bus wearing flip-flops and tank tops,” Ariana Hellerman, a Rockaway resident and organizer with the mutual aid group, told Hell Gate. Chandler Miranda, another organizer, noticed that new students enrolling in her child’s local school didn’t have proper clothes and needed support in enrolling in extracurriculars like ballet. That essential work of noticing knitted together a motley crew of volunteers into an organizing collective.

Do other shelters have space? Will kids be pulled from school? Will commutes get worse for the lucky few with working papers?

Now they have a WhatsApp chat group. In a flurry of texts, people loosely coordinate everything from scheduling duffel bag pickups to identifying Google spreadsheet mavens to tracking suitcase distribution. At the coat distribution, it was clear they also forged relationships. It’s a reminder that — even as a new Siena poll shows 54% of New York voters say the state should back Trump’s mass deportations — new migrants aren’t alone.

Floyd Bennett resident Kimberly Mendez ushers families to the crowded basement. Beneath her marshaling role lurk her own worries. Mendez, who requested a pseudonym because she has a pending asylum claim, can’t get a job without work papers. She studied business administration in Venezuela. Her husband didn’t finish school, but he is handy and gets occasional painting work. The employer tells him that as long as he has a work permit, he would hire him permanently,” Mendez says. 

As of December 2024, she said she hadn’t gotten a straight answer from shelter staff about her relocation date. Nor did she trust their reassurances about mail being forwarded. The family has missed mail previously and fear they’ll miss yet another fingerprint appointment. Getting an appointment became even more urgent building up to Inauguration Day. 

Indeed, hours after his inauguration, Trump canceled thousands of asylum appointments. A week later, he reversed the outgoing Biden administration’s order to extend by 18 months the temporary protected status of people from Venezuela. 

I received an update via WhatsApp from another Floyd Bennett resident, Rosa Rodriguez (a pseudonym). Bone-chilling temperatures forced her to flee the shelter with her two children on Dec. 27, 2024. A social worker helped them get public transit to 535 Van Buren, a hotel in Brooklyn converted to an emergency shelter. 

Asked what she hoped for in the new year, she wrote back, Work hard to be able to rent.”

Luis Feliz Leon is an associate editor and organizer at Labor Notes.

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