Whenever someone asks me what New Orleans is like, I usually confirm that what they’ve heard about the vibe and energy of the city is true. Despite the vast social inequity, class division and histories of racial disharmony that have attempted to fragment it, New Orleans by and large is a neighborly city. It’s a community where being offered a hot plate of food from a stranger or sharing laughter with someone you just met on a parade route is so common that it’s unremarkable.
The history of New Orleans cannot be separated from the history of Latin America. For example, so many people from Honduras call the New Orleans area home that the metro area’s Honduran population has at times been second only to Tegucigalpa’s. Twenty years ago, during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, Latino construction workers helped drive the rebuilding of New Orleans. In “Rebuilding After Katrina: A Population-Based Study of Labor and Human Rights in New Orleans,” researchers Eric Stover, Laurel E. Fletcher, Phuong Pham and Patrick Vinck found that “Latinos comprise nearly half (45%) of the reconstruction workforce in New Orleans.” In that, they were a bigger share of the people rebuilding New Orleans than were white people (28%) and Black people (24%). In 2025, those from Spanish-speaking countries who live in New Orleans aren’t visitors; they’re family and friends.
The history of New Orleans cannot be separated from the history of Latin America.
“This is an absolutely terrifying time,” Sue Weishar, a former policy and research fellow at Loyola University New Orleans’ Jesuit Social Research Institute, told a New Orleans television station. She rightly described federal immigration agents as being brought in “to terrorize community members, the same community members who were the workforce that saved New Orleans after Katrina.”
Emerging from the city’s neighborliness is a resistance to the presence of federal agents who have begun staging in New Orleans and are looking to carry out the administration’s deportation plans after similarly fascistic operations in Chicago, Los Angeles, Memphis and Charlotte. New Orleanians across racial, cultural and ethnic backgrounds are declaring their refusal to lose their neighbors to what the Trump administration is insultingly calling Operation “Swamp Sweep.” The ramped-up deportation drive, welcomed by Louisiana’s MAGA governor, Jeff Landry, is expected to last up to two months.
“We were doing last-minute power of attorney letters, which is a really heavy and awful thing that a lot of immigrant families are having to do,” said Rachel Tabor, a volunteer activist with Unión Migrante, a local nonprofit fighting for immigration reform and providing training for immigrant communities. “We were helping people get passports for their U.S.-born kids and fill out that paperwork, helping them talk to immigration attorneys so that they know if they were to get arrested, would they fight their case from within detention or would they be deported, because unfortunately, they’re giving immigration bonds to almost no one in Louisiana these days.”
“We’ve been hosting organizing meetings because it’s so important to bring more people into the struggle right now,” Cecilia Paz, an organizer with the Louisiana Party for Socialism and Liberation, told me. “We have to unite all people of conscience to stand boldly against this crackdown.”
Such organizing has not come without cost. For instance, Alfredo Salazar, an organizer with Unión Migrante, told me he was beaten and had his retinas forcibly scanned even before the federal presence ramps up. A U.S. citizen, Salazar told me, he was eventually released from detainment. His “crime,” he said, was refusing to tell a federal agent where he was born.
Other cities that have been occupied by federal immigration officials have served as a blueprint and an inspiration for New Orleans organizers who believe they have a good idea of what to expect and how to resist.








