I'm an Immigration Attorney in the U.S.—Fear Is Rising Fast

According to a Migration Policy report, nearly 46.2 million legal immigrants lived in the United States in 2022. Based on the rhetoric in the news—and elsewhere—ramped up in February 2025, you would think there were none here in America.

You would also think that everyone who has come from elsewhere had committed some kind of crime in the U.S.—or in their home countries. It also felt like people from specific groups were being targeted.

Since coming to America, I have walked many miles in these—my immigrant shoes. It started with a 12-year wait for a green card approval at my local Embassy in Jamaica—for which many trees died and much financial resources were poured into over the years. It culminated in the visa package that was not to be opened on penalty of death—even if only figuratively—that was to be handed to the border officer when I landed in the U.S. with my family.

To this day, I am not sure what was in it. The interrogation—albeit benign—at secondary inspection signaled the beginning. The stamp in the passport was what truly began the journey.

Having left Jamaica armed with my extensive professional experience in several fields—including as a prosecutor and defense attorney—and several academic qualifications, not getting a job in the legal field immediately was quite jolting. Not getting a job in any professional area was mind-boggling.

I was beginning to be an immigrant. Since this wasn't an employment-based green card—or a work permit scenario—there was no job waiting for me. I had come on a family-based green card.

So, it took a lot of cold calls, résumé rebuilding, and fearless networking to get a survival job.

I can only describe a survival job as one that you take because you have to—and one that you would never think of taking with your skills and qualifications in your home country. But taking such a job in America meant you got paid—and if you really want to be optimistic—you were interacting with people and networking with a fervent hope of getting into your field of qualification eventually.

Whilst navigating that, I was morphing as an immigrant. This process occurred slowly as phrases like "you have an accent," "what accent is that?" "where are you from?" and "oh, you were a lawyer" were thrown about.

Sometimes I would say "everyone has an accent," but by then, the person had already mentally left me behind. So, I didn't even have the satisfaction of seeing them squirm—to wriggle out of a corner they created for themselves.

Mispronunciation of my name—sometimes with an apology, sometimes even after sustained effort on their part—remains common. However, now, I am emphatic about them getting it right. If I can spend the time to get yours right—you can spend the time to get mine right. Small victory—but now that I know that I am an immigrant—it's a victory nonetheless.

I practice here in the U.S. and in Jamaica, and the difference is sometimes startling—from the pace of matters to the reception I get when people hear that I am a lawyer—and not just in one, but two jurisdictions.

My immigration practice began naturally as I had been privy to my attorney completing the documentation on my family's behalf and found it fascinating as it is so evidence-driven. Being a prosecutor and defense attorney has served me well as an immigration attorney, while I try to ensure that clients' cases are as airtight as possible so that they get their immigration benefits. I am always thinking about what documentary evidence is useful in this specific case.

Regardless of what people say, no two cases are the same—regardless of how they appear on the surface. I find it fascinating that many persons in the U.S. are very uninformed about how immigration actually works—and are equally uninformed about other countries.

My excellent education in Jamaica exposed me to worldwide vistas, and now in my immigration practice, when I meet clients from all over the world, I can invariably ask a useful question or two about something in their country. That puts them at ease—even if it's a simple question about football.

I recall a meeting early on in my career as an immigration attorney with a client from the Ivory Coast, who was visibly nervous. I mentioned that Didier Drogba was a favorite player of mine when he was at Chelsea Football Club—and that put the person at ease immediately. Now Bruno Fernandez of Manchester United is my favorite football player, so I have kind of switched my Premier League club allegiance.

However, I have never forgotten that client's reaction, and I always try to bring that kind of ease to my client interactions. My clients often teach me something—even as I assist with their cases. Since I practice across the country and have clients internationally who I work with in person and virtually—it's very important to have good communication, and putting people at ease is a great way to achieve that.

As I reflect on the past few weeks of the new administration, there has been a significant increase in people seeking information. Many people are afraid—and that is not solely persons without lawful status in the country.

Citizens are worried they will be caught up because of profiling or mistakes—and worry about what can happen to their children and loved ones. There are several cases now before the courts where people have been arrested for impersonating law enforcement and Immigration Customs and Enforcement (ICE) officers. These are alongside scenes of ramped-up immigration enforcement activities across the country.

I am seeing the public's worry in person, on my YouTube channel, when I do speaking engagements and on radio programs that I have been doing—as well as comments to articles I write in newspapers. People are trying to sift out what is true, what is legal, and what is the law as it stands now about immigration. I sincerely believe that access to correct legal information helps people to make informed decisions. So, now increasingly, people are seeking resources to help them make decisions.

For myself, if there's any good that has come out of me now knowing that I am an immigrant—it is regarding my culture. During the past few years, I have increasingly embraced my Jamaican culture and am making desperate efforts to ensure my children know it—even as they too navigate being immigrants—albeit without my telltale Jamaican "accent."

Nadine C. Atkinson-Flowers, Esq is a U.S. Immigration Attorney and a Jamaican Attorney. She is also an avid writer with 6 books on the US Immigration system, Jamaican Law and Caribbean History.

All views expressed are the author's own.

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