Save Deferred Action: A Life-Saving Stopgap for Immigrants

We come to this issue as mothers and immigration attorneys with more than thirty-five years of experience in the field and intimate knowledge of a policy known as deferred action. Deferred action is a kind of prosecutorial discretion once housed in the Immigration and Naturalization Service and now in the domain of the Department of Homeland Security (DHS). Deferred action is a temporary form of protection and provides no legal status; but is a life-saving stopgap for immigrants who face compelling situations. From its infancy, the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services of (USCIS) was a hub in DHS responsible for processing “affirmative” deferred action requests made by individuals with extraordinary equities that include a serious medical need, long term residence in the United States, or a survivor of a major crime.

Last August, USCIS announced that it would end the deferred action policy for most people, and in carrying this out, sent letters notifying applicants that the agency no longer handles the program and to depart the United States within 33 days.

Public outrage from immigration advocates, congressional members, health specialists, and families was tremendous, leading in part to a congressional hearing on September 11, 2019. One author testified at this hearing in support of preserving the policy at USCIS, detailing the long history of the program.

Remarkably, the deferred action policy was reinstated on September 19, 2019, when USCIS reached out to the House Committee of Oversight and Reform, “We wanted to let you know that, at the direction of Acting Secretary McAleenan, USCIS is resuming its consideration of non-military deferred action requests on a discretionary, case-by-case basis, except as otherwise required by an applicable statute, regulation, or court order.”

Despite the restoration of deferred action at USCIS, serious concerns remain about whether the reinstatement has been fully realized. Since September, one author has received multiple denials from the Philadelphia field office for deferred cases that were previously granted and where the medical necessity is unchanged. Further, there have been cases denied involving life and death circumstances.

Fabian Flores Aguirre and Damaris Alameda Ramos are from the same small town of Chiautzingo, Mexico. Nine months ago, their now two-and-a-half-year-old son and U.S. Citizen, Fabian Flores Alameda, was diagnosed with high-risk Langerhans cell histiocytosis (LCH), a rare type of blood cancer.  Since that time, he has had two cancer-related surgeries and has been receiving continuous chemotherapy. Fabian is a vivacious toddler despite his grueling every two-week schedule of intensive chemotherapy. His parents are utterly devoted to ensuring their son receives the life-saving care provided by his team of physicians at St. Christopher’s Hospital for Children in Philadelphia.

Beyond the extreme stress inherent with caring for a young child with cancer, Fabian’s parents have endured an emotional roller coaster and uncertainty of deferred action. The couple received a letter from USCIS last August that the program had expired and that they must leave the United States within 33 days. Once the program had been purportedly resumed, the case was pending processing. Earlier this month, the couple got a devastating blow: a boilerplate denial without explanation. Fabian will not have access to this treatment in his parents’ home country of Mexico. If his parents are forced to return to Mexico, there is no one in the United States who can take their place and care for him. Denying deferred to Fabian’s parents is a death sentence for their son and a dark day for our country.

In a second case, Ms. H, a citizen and national of St. Vincent and the Grenadines was also denied deferred action last November. Her 15-month-old daughter and U.S. Citizen, Ms. J, was born prematurely and weighed only about one pound at birth. Shortly after birth, Ms. J suffered two severe hemorrhages on both sides of her brain. Her brain cannot work efficiently to reabsorb necessary fluids, causing her brain and head to swell. Doctors had to place a shunt into her brain to drain the fluid into her stomach so she could pass her brain fluid with other bodily fluids. The failure rate of such stunts is 80 percent and necessitates immediate replacement. Ms. J was also diagnosed with severe bronchopulmonary dysplasia, a chronic lung disease that requires twice daily respiratory treatments. Ms. J requires continuous and advanced medical care, which she would not have access to in St. Vincent and the Grenadines. Returning Ms. J to her mother’s home country because of a baseless denial of deferred action is unconscionable and undermines the purpose of the program.

The denials from USCIS are form letters with no explanation.

USCIS has not articulated the degree to which deferred action has been fully restored nor has it been transparent about the number of cases process or outcomes. Moving forward, USCIS must fully restore the deferred action program and improve the transparency that deferred action has historically lacked. Denying deferred action to the most vulnerable undermines our rule of law and our shared humanity.

Audrey Allen practices exclusively immigration law and devotes substantial time to pro bono advocacy of immigrant families with severely ill children. Shoba Sivaprasad Wadhia is the Samuel Weiss Faculty Scholar at Penn State Law, and the author of Beyond Deportation: The Role of Prosecutorial Discretion in Immigration Cases (NYU Press 2015) and Banned: Immigration Enforcement in the Time of Trump (NYU Press 2019).

Trump Administration Seeks to Strip More People of Citizenship

This week, the Department of Justice announced the creation of a new section dedicated to investigating, prosecuting, and revoking the citizenship of naturalized Americans. The move follows on the heels of an earlier denaturalization task force created in 2018.

DOJ officials claimed that “the new section would prioritize people who have committed serious violations of law.” The press release announcing the new office lists a number of denaturalization cases linked to serious crimes such as sex offenses, war crimes, and terrorism.

Some attorneys at the Department of Justice anonymously raised concerns, expressing “worries that denaturalizations could be broadly used to strip citizenship” for minor errors or infractions. Our research suggests that these concerns are well founded. When the initial task force was announced, we explained in this column below published for The Conversation how the Trump administration’s denaturalization efforts risk sweeping too broadly.

 

Trump administration seeks to strip more people of citizenship

U.S. government officials are making a coordinated effort to find evidence of immigration fraud by reexamining the files of immigrants who became U.S. citizens.

They are searching for cases where individuals used more than one identity or concealed prior deportation orders before filing for citizenship. Such evidence may provide grounds to strip citizenship from those who allegedly gained it unlawfully.

While the program is not new – it began under the Obama administration – the Trump administration has announced an intention to significantly expand it. More than 700,000 cases in which individuals were granted citizenship are under review.

The Department of Justice announced in January 2018 that it expects to file actions to revoke citizenship against approximately 1,600 people. Six months later, the United States announced plans to hire “several dozen lawyers and immigration officers” to staff a new office focused on this work.

Over the past 30 years, the government has sought to revoke citizenship only on a case-by-case basis after becoming aware of individual wrongdoing. As a result, prosecutors filed around a dozen cases each year to revoke citizenship – a process called denaturalization.

The Trump administration has sharply increased the number of denaturalization attempts already, filing 25 cases in 2017 and another 20 during the first half of 2018.

We are law professors who have studied the court records in the most recent cases. Our review of the court filings suggests that the government’s litigation procedures carry a disturbingly high risk of mistakenly taking away citizenship from someone who committed neither crime nor fraud.

Looking for fraud, finding errors

The original purpose of the program, which the Obama administration initiated in 2016 and called Operation Janus, was to identify people who might create a risk to national security.

It narrowly targeted individuals who “naturalized using false identities to hide their criminal past.” In other words, anyone who immigrated honestly had no reason to worry about losing citizenship.

However, the Trump administration’s tougher stance on immigration means enforcement has expanded beyond cases involving serious crimes or terrorist threats. This tougher enforcement risks sweeping in mere clerical errors.

Cases are being filed against individuals with no criminal history or connections to terror groups. The first Operation Janus case that resulted in an order to revoke citizenship demonstrates this expansion.

Here’s the story: In 1991, a 17-year-old Punjabi male with no travel documentation arrived in California seeking asylum. He was taken into custody, and a translator recorded his name as Davinder Singh. At his request, he was released to friends in New Jersey and ordered to appear in court in January 1992. When he didn’t show up to court on the day he was directed to appear, the court issued a deportation order. We don’t know if he left the country.

Less than a month later, someone with the same set of fingerprints but the name Baljinder Singh filed for asylum in the same New Jersey court. The court found that the case had enough merit to proceed. Eventually, Baljinder Singh became a citizen.

More than 25 years later, the government, under Operation Janus, matched the two sets of fingerprints and alleged that Singh intentionally used a fraudulent identity to get a second chance to seek asylum and get citizenship. In January 2018, the government officially revoked his citizenship.

At first glance, this case may seem straightforward.

But in an article forthcoming in the New York University Law Review, we explain how the discrepancy in name could have easily resulted from a translator’s error rather than from intentional fraud.

We don’t know exactly what happened to Singh. We have not been able to locate him, and no news articles about his case include interviews with him.

However, the evidence shows that the way denaturalization cases are being litigated makes it difficult for the justice system to distinguish between fraud and bureaucratic error.

Citizenship vulnerabilities

For example, Singh lost his citizenship without ever appearing in court to defend himself, either personally or through an attorney. Our review of the 2017-18 court records reveals it’s possible he didn’t know a denaturalization case had been filed against him.

Even when defendants learn that an action has been filed, other hurdles remain. A defendant may have moved far away – even out of the country – and not be able to afford to travel to court. Defendants with enough money can hire an attorney to appear on their behalf. But hiring legal representation can be expensive, and there is no right to an appointed attorney in such cases. Failing to show up means that the court will hear from only the government’s side – and will likely accept the allegations as true.

In Singh’s case, the court concluded that his failure to report earlier proceedings under a different name arose from an intent to deceive – and not from a mere transcription error or misunderstanding.

Singh’s case is the first of many that the government plans to pursue. We do not believe that the underlying evidence in Singh’s case clearly shows fraud, criminality or any national security risk. It also wasn’t clear that he had notice of the hearing or an opportunity to defend himself.

Combined, these factors undermine confidence in the system.

More broadly, they create fear among naturalized citizens. People justifiably worry their own citizenship could be vulnerable in future cases.

We argue that the Constitution’s guarantee of due process requires heightened procedural protections when citizenship is at risk. That means requiring personal notice, a right to counsel for indigent defendants and a time limit for bringing cases, which would increase confidence that citizenship would not be revoked for minor errors or bureaucratic mistakes.

Citizenship is more than just a personal interest. In the words of the Supreme Court, confidence in the stability of citizenship affects the “very nature of our free government.”

If future Operation Janus cases follow the same trajectory as the Singh case, they risk undermining the very idea of equality of citizenship in our democracy.

The Sentencing of Roger Stone: A Federal Prosecutor’s Lament

Remembering Judge Deborah Batts

In 2012, I met a remarkable and inspirational judge named Deborah Batts, at a gala dinner in Chicago, hosted by Just The Beginning Foundation. She sat in the audience while I had the honor of being a recipient of one of the many scholarships the organization provides to diverse law students who are entering law school.

Three years later I would meet Judge Batts again, this time in her chambers in the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of New York, where I was humbly requesting to serve as a Judicial Law Fellow after my fellowship ended in the 7th Circuit Court of Appeals with the honorable Judge Ann Claire Williams, who introduced me to Judge Batts in 2012 at the JTBF gala dinner.

Judge Batts welcomed me with open arms and to this day, both my practice, and my personal life benefit tremendously from my time spent in chambers with Judge Batts. Judge Batts and I had many conversations about our unique backgrounds and what it meant to be courageous and confident despite not being your prototypical anything.

For me, I had overcome a wrongful conviction, made my way through law school, did a fellowship in the same 7th Circuit that reversed my conviction, and was just getting ready to start practicing with the Innocence Project in New York

Judge Batts was the first openly gay judge to sit on the federal bench, confirmed at a time when gay marriage had yet to be accepted by the law. She presided over prominent cases such as the Central Park Five’s civil case during her tenure. And she was the first African-American faculty member at Fordham Law School, where she continued to teach well into her career on the bench.

Judge Batts would often tell me how proud she was that not only did I refuse to give up, but that I didn’t let someone else’s perception of me become my reality, a battle she knew well. Judge Batts shared with me the many challenges and obstacles she met head on throughout her career. Each step of the way Judge Batts displayed unwavering courage, unshakable faith in her own possibilities and those of the world around her. I am truly grateful for each day I spent watching her do just that.

When I left Judge Batts’s chambers in July of 2016, I would often buzz the doors of her chambers to say hello when I was at the federal courthouse. The last time I buzzed the door to Judge Batts chambers, I was told by her current clerk that she had just left to head to the gym.

In hindsight, I dearly regret not waiting until she got back from the gym to thank her one more time for the many ways she has and continues to inspire me. However, it is comforting to know that at the age of 72, Judge Batts never stopped working to get stronger.

With love, respect and my deepest condolences to Judge Batts's family and loved ones.

Mass Surveillance and Black Legal History

By whatever name – “mass surveillance,” the “surveillance state,” the “electronic police state” – the far-reaching efforts by U.S. government institutions to monitor the speech and conduct of individuals in America has entered into the public consciousness. We see evidence and elements of it everywhere. Building cameras. Traffic cameras. Surveillance drones. Facial recognition software. Speech recognition software. Smart TVs. Smart cities. GPS tracking. DNA family matching. NSA. FISA. Surveillance-related concepts and methods such as these are now familiar terms in the American lexicon.

Surveys indicate, however, that most American citizens value their privacy and would be concerned if the government was monitoring their communications.[1] Many who are aware of the present breadth of government-sponsored digital surveillance have a negative reaction, particularly when hearing that the tactic is aimed at U.S. citizens.[2] But although some individuals worry about the government monitoring their online activities, they are more accepting of the practice when it is aimed at identifying and stopping others who may be potential terrorists, government subversives, or dangerous criminals.[3]

Despite the public’s recent rise in recognition, pervasive government surveillance in America is not a new phenomenon. Government monitoring and suppression of Black speech and conduct has been an essential feature of American society far before the public at large realized the potential dangers of widespread surveillance. Although privacy is a national value, it has been an elusive concept for Black people in America.

The foundation for today’s expansive state surveillance system was built upon the lessons learned from America’s history of monitoring Black people in America. As early as the seventeenth century, whites were constantly surveilling Black people.[4] Slaves (and free Blacks) were observed closely in order to detect, prevent, investigate, and prosecute Black misconduct, whether serious or minor. Informants policed a wide variety of behavior, but were especially seen as valuable for the prevention and suppression of organized resistance and rebellions. Slave informants spoiled the infamous rebellions planned by Denmark Vesey and Gabriel Prosser, as well as many other lesser-known plans of resistance.[5] Surveillance continued after Emancipation, when Black Codes and Jim Crow Laws were enacted and used to return many Blacks to another form of slavery – convict labor.[6]

More than 100 years after slavery was officially abolished, whites still sought to suppress and control Blacks and remained especially concerned with Black activism and protest. In the early 1900s, the FBI targeted “race agitators” such as Ida B. Wells, Marcus Garvey, and W.E.B. Dubois.[7]  It continued the strategy into the 1940s and 1950s when the Civil Rights Movement was in its formative stages. During the height of the Movement, the FBI engaged in widespread surveillance of Black organizations and individuals.[8]  Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Malcolm X, and the Black Panther Party were all well-known targets of the FBI’s notorious COINTELPRO program.[9]  Other subjects included the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE), the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), the Revolutionary Action Movement (RAM), and the Black Liberation Army (BLA), as well as the individuals associated with those groups.[10]  Many Black celebrities were also spied upon, including Duke Ellington, Louis Armstrong, and Max Roach.[11]  Using the information it gathered, the FBI fomented dissent, engaged in blackmail and coercion, and policed and prosecuted many Black citizens, destroying in the process numerous lives and organizations. [12]

Like their predecessors in generations before them, modern Black disruptors – whether agitators, activists, or criminals – have been unable to avoid the government’s gaze. After the end of the Civil Rights and Black Nationalist Movements, state and federal law enforcement officials turned their attention to street gangs, which were growing locally, regionally, and nationally. Law enforcement agencies nationwide established gang units and task forces that in turn created paper-based gang databases and relied on street-level informants for information.

Government efforts were not limited to fighting the Wars on Drugs, Crime, and Gangs. As during the Civil Rights Movement, police extended their efforts to Black celebrities, including musical artists considered subversive or dangerous. By the 1980s and 1990s, many well-known political and gangsta’ rappers, including Public Enemy, Boogie Down Productions, and Tupac Shakur, realized they were being watched by government officials.[13]  This was followed by police agencies in New York City, Atlanta, Chicago, Las Vegas, Los Angeles, and Miami forming hip hop task forces in the early 2000s to keep abreast of rap artists’ disputes, criminal histories and activities, and general whereabouts.[14]  These units still exist today. Finally, in the early 2010s, as grassroots Black demonstrations emerged after the killings of Trayvon Martin in Sanford, Florida, Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri, and Eric Garner in New York City, both state and federal government were again there to watch. Protest and advocacy organizations such as Black Lives Matter and government-labeled “Black Identity Extremists” are being monitored and infiltrated.[15]

If anything today is different from historical Black experiences with government surveillance, it’s that 21st century technology advances have made the practice far easier and more widespread. What was once limited to human, street-level surveillance or wiretaps has expanded to include Black people’s online activities.[16] From social platforms such as Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram to content-sharing sites such as YouTube, SoundCloud, and Spotify, law enforcement can watch and listen to whole communities, all from the comfort of their removed, secure offices.[17]  As a result, street gang police units and other intelligence-gathering entities have moved much of their policing online. Today, law enforcement spends substantial resources monitoring the online conversations, activities, and networks of young Black and Latino men, looking for evidence of crimes, sometimes before any crime or real threat has occurred.[18]

Mass surveillance has been a long-standing feature of American criminal justice, albeit a selective practice usually reserved for Blacks. But now, what has been and continues to be a normalized feature of Black people’s lives is becoming commonplace for all Americans. It remains to be seen how American citizens will respond to this new form of governance by the state and vice versa, but it is safe to say that Black people have always been and – at this rate –  will always be under the watchful eye of the state, whether they are on the street or online.

[1] Frank Newport, Americans Disapprove of Government Surveillance Programs, Gallup (June 12, 2013), https://news.gallup.com/poll/163043/americans-disapprove-government-surveillance-programs.aspx.

[2] Lee Rainie and Mary Madden, Americans’ Views on Government Surveillance, Pew Research Center (Mar. 16, 2015), https://www.pewresearch.org/internet/2015/03/16/americans-views-on-government-surveillance-programs/

[3] Id.

[4] Andrea L. Dennis, A Snitch in Time:  An Historical Sketch of Black Informing during Slavery, 97 Marquette Law Review 279 (2013), https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=2325665

[5] Id.

[6] Shane Bauer, The Origins of Prison Slavery, Slate (Oct. 20, 2018), https://slate.com/news-and-politics/2018/10/origin-prison-slavery-shane-bauer-american-prison-excerpt.html.

[7] Nusrat Choudhury & Malkia Cyril, The FBI Won’t Hand Over Its Surveillance Records on ‘Black Identity Extremists,’ so We’re Suing, ACLU (Mar. 21, 2019), https://www.aclu.org/blog/racial-justice/race-and-criminal-justice/fbi-wont-hand-over-its-surveillance-records-black.

[8] Jeffrey O.G. Ogbar, The FBI’s War on Civil Rights Leaders, The Daily Beast (Apr. 11, 2017), https://www.thedailybeast.com/the-fbis-war-on-civil-rights-leaders.

[9] Id.

[10] James Kirkpatrick Davis, Spying on America: The FBI’s Domestic Counterintelligence Program 117 (Praeger 1992).

[11] Jack Denton, The FBI’s Long, Alarming History of Investigating Black Musicians, Pacific Standard Magazine (Nov. 22, 2017), https://psmag.com/social-justice/the-fbis-long-history-of-investigating-black-musicians.

[12] Ogbar, supra note 7.

[13]  Denton, supra note 10.

[14] Dasun Allah, NYPD Admits to Rap Intelligence Unit, The Village Voice (Mar. 16, 2004), https://www.villagevoice.com/2004/03/16/nypd-admits-to-rap-intelligence-unit/.

[15] George Joseph & Murtaza Hussain, FBI Tracked an Activist Involved with Black Lives Matter As They Traveled Through the U.S., Documents Show, The Intercept (Mar. 19, 2018), https://theintercept.com/2018/03/19/black-lives-matter-fbi-surveillance/.

[16] Tim Lau, The Government Is Expanding Its Social Media Surveillance Capabilities, Brennan Center For Justice (May 22, 2019), https://www.brennancenter.org/our-work/analysis-opinion/government-expanding-its-social-media-surveillance-capabilities.

[17] Jonah Engel Bromwich, Daniel Victor & Mike Isaac, Police Use Surveillance Tool to Scan Social Media, A.C.L.U. Says, The New York Times (Oct. 11, 2016), https://www.nytimes.com/2016/10/12/technology/aclu-facebook-twitter-instagram-geofeedia.html.

[18] Erik Nielson and Andrea L. Dennis, Rap on Trial:  Race, Lyrics, and Guilt in America 141-151 (The New Press 2019).

Crime-Free Ordinances Perpetuate Racial Segregation in Housing

At a time when America has become more racially diverse, extreme residential segregation on the basis of race nonetheless persists. The cumulative effects of this segregation on people of color are profound. Residential segregation impacts access to quality education, employment opportunities, government services, and social capital. Facially discriminatory housing laws are illegal. Yet, exclusionary government housing policies continue to sustain racial segregation. In a growing number of communities around the country, housing policy combines with mass criminalization to lock people of color out of housing in predominantly white communities, further producing and entrenching racial segregation. Crime-free housing ordinances and programs (“crime-free housing ordinances”) are some of the most salient examples of this phenomenon. Crime-free housing ordinances are local laws that either encourage or require private landlords to evict or exclude tenants who have had varying levels of contact with the criminal legal system. They are part of the expanding web of zero tolerance policies adopted by private landlords and public housing authorities. Though formally race neutral, these laws facilitate racial segregation in a number of significant ways and their impact on racial segregation is a matter of great public concern.

Under the authority of crime-free housing ordinances, landlords are instructed or encouraged to refuse to rent to perspective tenants with a criminal history, including a history of arrests without conviction, regardless of whether that record suggests a present risk to the safety of other tenants. In some municipalities, landlords are also encouraged to deny rental applications from individuals who were previously evicted because of suspicions that they engaged in criminal activity. The core components of crime-free housing ordinances are lease addendums that allow or require landlords to evict tenants who they believe have engaged in or facilitated criminal behavior. Under the most common version of this addendum, a tenant risks eviction if he or she is alleged to have engaged in or facilitated any criminal activity. Significantly, a resident usually does not have to be convicted in order to be evicted. This creates the possibility that a mere arrest—or even a stop that results in neither arrest nor conviction—might be sufficient to evict someone from their home.

While seeking to maintain the safety of rental properties is a laudable goal, by using contact with the criminal legal system as a tool for exclusion, documented racial biases in policing and the criminal legal system are imported into the private housing market. Through crime-free ordinances, the criminal legal system becomes wrapped around the entire housing process, forcing individuals with criminal legal system contacts to find housing elsewhere. A housing system based on whether a person has involvement with the criminal legal system effectively functions as a racialized system. This is because there are racial disparities at every stage of the criminal legal process. Rejection of a housing application or eviction based on almost any type of criminal legal system exposure will further systemic racial exclusion because of the racial disparities in who has a criminal record.

By relying on criteria destined to exclude people of color at disproportionate rates, crime-free ordinances will perpetuate and increase segregation in the communities that adopt them. And, just as bastions of affluence in certain communities concentrate disadvantage elsewhere, concentrating whiteness in a community will make other communities more segregated. Accordingly, the ordinances will predictably reinforce and perpetuate segregation in surrounding communities by exiling people of color, forcing them to seek housing in already segregated communities, and recreating conditions in those communities that are among the drivers of systemic segregation.

Learn more: Read Deborah Archer's Issue Brief Racial Exclusion Through Crime-Free Housing Ordinances.

A significant part of the danger of crime-free housing ordinances is the broad and over-inclusive definition of criminal activity common in those ordinances. This allows the system to ensnare people who have not engaged in activities that meet traditional notions of “crime” and who have not had any meaningful contact with the criminal legal system. This problem is exacerbated because it occurs against a backdrop of mass criminalization in the United States. The entanglement of crime-free housing ordinances and mass criminalization is pushing already marginalized people further to the edges of society. The problem gets worse the more we criminalize relatively innocuous behavior, thus swelling the numbers of people subject to the web of housing restrictions.

Although many policy makers point to reducing crime as a primary motivation behind the proliferation of these policies, the problem is not actual crime but the myth of criminality. Crime-free housing ordinances indulge many of the dark prejudices at the heart of American history, including a desire to exclude anyone perceived to be a threat. The prevalence of housing exclusions based on any level of contact with the criminal legal system is consistent with America’s broader embrace of exile in response to perceived threats. In so many ways, the history of Black people in America is the history of control and exclusion. Central to that history are the legal and social limitations on how and where Black and other marginalized people can live; exclusions which have outlived both chattel slavery and legally-countenanced Jim Crow. Crime-free housing ordinances are only the newest tool that American communities have developed to define the boundaries of who is allowed to live and thrive within their borders, and thus who can shape and be shaped by living in these communities.

Communities across the United States are beginning to acknowledge the racially disparate impact and far-reaching harms caused by exclusions based on criminal legal system contacts. As a result, there has been progressive movement towards inclusion in areas including employment and political participation. But, for the most part, we have not paid sufficient attention to the ways in which contact with the criminal legal system impacts people’s access to housing. Ensuring the safety of all communities is critically important and should be a priority. Everyone has a right to feel safe in his or her home or community. However, crime-free housing ordinances will not make communities safer. They will continue to divide, further entrenching racial bias and segregation.