Boston Community / Boston Team / COVID-19 / SPEL Stories

East Boston survived one pandemic, now residents describe living through another.

By hola | Published July 8, 2026 | No Comments

This is the final story in a three-part series that seeks to pay tribute to community members in East Boston who lost their lives during the pandemic and reflect on what the pandemic tells us about today. Read the first story and second story in the series. The COVID-19 Memorial Project was made possible with support from the Mass Cultural Council.

¡Esta serie pronto en español!

A pregnant woman walked into the Mutual Aid Eastie office for a know your rights workshop earlier this year with an unusual need.  

Fearing that her immigration status would leave both her baby and herself vulnerable to deportation, she “was afraid to go to the hospital and didn’t know what to do,” said Zaida, a MAE outreach worker. The organization connected the expectant mother with a doula, a trained professional who was able to help her think through the possibility of a home birth. 

This woman’s case was unusual. But across East Boston, nonprofit workers said they are seeing a wider variety of needs due to the heightened presence of U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Eastie’s large immigrant population, once called “heroes” for working essential jobs during the COVID-19 pandemic, are now the targets of raids in Boston and other cities nationwide. 

According to a WBUR analysis published in April and data from the Deportation Data Project, 7,030 people were arrested by ICE in Massachusetts between January 2025, when President Donald Trump took office, and February of this year. That was nearly five times more arrests than the final 415 days of the Biden administration. With immigrants comprising more than half of East Boston’s population, this small neighborhood has become a focal point, with frequent arrests being made at the East Boston District Court and on Eastie streets. 

Those we interviewed for this story said lingering anxiety has reshaped immigrant family routines, prompting many to stay inside. No longer feeling safe to go about everyday necessities, such as walking down city streets, grocery shopping and taking their children to school. 

Justin Pasquariello, the Social Centers’ chief executive officer, described ICE causing a ripple effect, leaving downtown feeling empty. “People talk about it just being quiet around the streets now,” he said.  

For those who live in the neighborhood, the prominence of immigration enforcement has become hard to ignore. Gloria DeVine, an engagement director at East Boston Social Centers, has witnessed ICE detain community members on two separate occasions. 

“People were screaming and whistles were blowing; it was so frightening. Then the text started going off, ‘ICE is here’,” DeVine said. 

Similar to the early days of the pandemic, nonprofit leaders say they are adjusting their services in response to the changing needs of the community. Networks that were created during the COVID crisis have been repurposed to send alerts about ICE sightings and food sites for families in need that don’t require waiting in line out in the open. 

Among these organizations is the East Boston YMCA. Joe Gaeta, its executive director, described ICE as an “epidemic.” Similar to the COVID-19 pandemic, community advocates are redirecting their work to better respond to unexpected circumstances. 

“We weren’t ready for an ICE crackdown, but we got smarter and faster,” Gaeta said. “A lot of folks in the community stepped up and showed us, as nonprofits, how to represent these communities and make spaces safe for them.”

After ICE began showing up regularly on Eastie streets and reports spread about the detentions of children and adults, the YMCA implemented a policy that allows any student, even if they aren’t a Y member, to show their school ID and ask to use the bathroom in order to get off the street. 

“They can ask to use the bathroom, no questions asked and can sit there as long as they need to feel safe,” he said. 

“What we understand is that ICE can’t enter a private or a staff area without a legal, civil or criminal warrant,” said Gaeta, which inspired the Y to restrict the gated area behind their front desk to staff, members and visitors only. 

As an added precaution, the YMCA has designated group pickup times for parents who feel the walk from their cars to the front door is too risky. 

Organizations are also helping their immigrant neighbors in other ways. To track patterns and identifications of ICE agents, nonprofits like GreenRoots work with networks such as LUCE, an organization that monitors ICE activity in the area. By photographing unmarked vehicles and building a database, the group can now easily identify enforcement agents and send alerts to the community. In addition to informing residents on where ICE is in real time, they also arrive on sight to document ICE encounters. 

John Walkey, director of climate justice and waterfront initiatives at GreenRoots, said their organization relies on LUCE to help protect families and staff during community meetings. 

“The LUCE network is one thing that we support, and we’ve actually turned to them for them to support us. We’ve had meetings where we’ve had members at the door just to keep an eye out,” Walkey said. 

For Walkey, LUCE represents essential collaboration as well as the reality facing  immigrants.

“It’s always a wake up call … you feel like we’re all together in this, until you realize, we’re not. I’ve got this parachute that is my skin, and they don’t,” Walkey said. “They are targeted because they don’t speak English, or they speak English with an accent.” 

While the staff at these nonprofits describe their work as essential, they also say it takes an emotional toll. Zaida says she’s fortunate her organization offers counseling because “I go home at night with my heart broken.” 

To get her through hardships, Zaida holds onto the moments of hope. She recalls receiving a baby photo from the mother who came into Mutual Aid Eastie needing assistance with her birth.

“I was happy with the outcome. The baby was born and healthy,” Zaida said. 

She is relieved that the mother found a safe environment to deliver her baby, which ultimately happened in a hospital, but still carries sadness for her since she lives every day in fear. The woman relies on support from neighborhood groups, Zaida said, and is debating whether or not to self-deport. The baby’s father was deported, and their only contact is through Zoom. 

“It’s a trauma she will live for for the rest of her life,” Zaida said.

Read the first story in the series.

If you support this work, please support Latine community journalism and help empower the next generation of youth storytellers by making a tax-deductible donation to Hola Cultura today.

— Story by Melody Marichalar

— Copy edited by Valerie Izquierdo

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