ICE in DC: Fear Paralyzes Migrant Life in the District

An empty barbershop, "raided" restaurants, bilingual schools on high alert, and nine lowkey migrants hid away in a backyard.

WASHINGTON—The barber's chair was still warm when I sat down, but the shop was cold with absence. One woman stood behind the counter, scissors in hand, her eyes flicking to the door like she was expecting ghosts.

Usually, it’s loud in the barbershop, with reggaeton blaring from a busted speaker, kids arguing over candy, someone’s cousin cutting in line. But today, it was just me, the barber, and the buzz of her clippers in the silence, like a fly in a jar.

She finished fast, too fast. When she muttered the price—thirty bucks—it sounded like an apology. I gave her forty in cash, but she didn’t thank me, just gave a distant nod, like her mind was far away, trying not to cry.