AURORA, Colo. (AP) 鈥 East Colfax Avenue was the best place to find a job. That's what everyone told Sofia Roca.
Never mind the open drug use, the sex workers or the groups of other marching the sidewalks soliciting work at the very same Mexican restaurants and bakeries.
On East Colfax in Aurora, Colorado, bosses and customers would speak Spanish and might be willing to hire someone like Roca 鈥 a 49-year-old from Colombia 鈥 without legal authorization to work. That was the rationale for going back to Colfax each morning, fruitless as it was.
鈥淒o you know how to cook Mexican food?鈥 asked one woman, looking up from the limes she was quartering, when Roca inquired about a kitchen position advertised on the door. Roca鈥檚 accent was a giveaway: not Mexican.
鈥淚 can learn,鈥 Roca replied in Spanish.
Responded the woman: 鈥淲e鈥檙e not hiring."
As record numbers of South Americans attempt to cross the U.S. southern border seeking better economic opportunities, many are landing in communities that are unprepared for them 鈥 and sometimes outright hostile.
And many migrants have also been unprepared for the realities of their new home.
An influx of migrants strains one town
Women are leaving Colombia, and to a greater extent Venezuela, to , to provide for their children and to seek medical care. They represent some of the more than 42,000 migrants who have arrived in the Denver area over two years. Many didn鈥檛 know anyone in Denver. But it was the closest city to which Texas was offering free bus rides, both to relieve pressure on its towns and to make a to liberal-leaning cities about immigration鈥檚 impact on the border.
From Denver, untold numbers made their way to the neighboring suburb of Aurora, lured by cheaper rent and abundant Spanish speakers. But finding a job and an affordable place to stay has been anything but easy, and women face their own particular challenges.
Last year, nearly 900,000 women and girls tried to cross the U.S. southern border, more than a fivefold increase over the last decade, U.S. Customs and Border Protection data shows. Like many of them, Roca came to the United States to help her children. Her adult daughter back in Colombia suffers from lupus and can鈥檛 afford 鈥渢he good medicines.鈥
The economy in Colombia never recovered from pandemic shutdowns, and Roca heard from acquaintances that in the United States she could earn $1,000 a week. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 a lot of money in Colombia," she said. Back home, 鈥渙ne U.S. dollar can buy breakfast for your entire family.鈥
Roca set out for the United States with an uncle. He was detained in Mexico, but Roca made it across the border in Ju谩rez and told U.S. agents she was seeking asylum. She heard from a shelter worker in El Paso that Denver was offering free housing for migrants and Texas would pay to get her there.
As of September, Texas Gov. Greg Abbott has bused from the border to cities run by Democratic mayors, including Denver, New York, Chicago and Washington, D.C., according to a press release from the governor鈥檚 office.
Roca arrived in November and stayed for two weeks in a hotel-turned-shelter paid for by the city of Denver. When she went looking for work in front of Home Depot and along East Colfax, she observed an icy reception from locals. 鈥淭hey said horrible things about Venezuelans,鈥 she said.
She didn't know the benefits many recent migrants have received 鈥 specifically, a path to a and with it better-paying jobs 鈥 were causing resentment among Aurora's large Mexican community. Many have loved ones in the country illegally or have themselves lived for years in the United States without legal permission to work.
As chaos and economic collapse drove more migrants to the border, President Joe Biden鈥檚 administration created and expanded legal pathways to enter the U.S., with the possibility of applying for work permits. However, in June, Biden for new immigrants who cross illegally, ending a main pathway to legal work.
Roca never was eligible for a work permit, but Mexican residents in Aurora still associate her with the many migrants who are.
Resentment for newcomers was building in another corner of Aurora, too 鈥 City Hall. Aurora officials in February had warned other communities , vowing not to spend city money to help them. This summer, Aurora鈥檚 mayor repeated a landlord鈥檚 claim that a had taken over an apartment building, saying he how so many Venezuelans ended up living in Aurora. Even though police say , former President Donald Trump took up the claim, mentioning it at his campaign rallies. The mayor last month walked back some of his comments.
She wants a job 鈥 but not in 鈥榯he business鈥
Roca never made a deliberate decision to settle in Aurora. To her, it wasn't clear where Denver ended and Aurora began, or that Denver was more coming to the area.
So when her time is almost up at the Denver shelter, she does the only thing she knows to do: She heads to East Colfax in Aurora.
She walks up and down the sidewalks, dodging people who鈥檇 taken over the bus shelters to shoot up drugs or smoke fentanyl and who sell apparently shoplifted toiletries on the sidewalks. She approaches migrants holding cardboard signs and begging for money outside Walmart, asking if they know of work or a place to stay.
A man standing by his truck parked outside a Goodwill thrift store catches her attention. He is singing along to rap music in Spanish. He seems happy, she thinks. He seems like a good guy.
He says he can help her and her cousin, who arrived a few weeks earlier. But not in Colorado. She can come back to Kentucky with him and his family. To hold her over in the short term, the man 鈥 El Cubano, she calls him 鈥 gives her $10 and invites her for ice cream.
After more than a week of staying with the family in Kentucky and cooking and eating meals together, Roca learns El Cubano's wife works in el negocio, or 鈥渢he business.鈥 There is not much work in Kentucky, so she earns her money through sex work, she tells Roca, while her kids play a few feet away.
A few days later, while they are cooking dinner together at the couple鈥檚 trailer, a Mexican man in his 30s pulls up outside in a pickup truck.
He鈥檇 seen a picture of Roca and liked her 鈥 and would pay $1,000 for two nights with Roca, the wife says. Roca would keep $600, the couple would get $400. Roca would have to pay him $6 for each ride to and from his house.
Roca stops chopping the onion and looks at her cousin. Don鈥檛 go with that man, the cousin says. You don鈥檛 know him.
Roca considers all of the jobs she鈥檚 done in her life. Caring for Alzheimer鈥檚 patients as a home health aide. Answering phones at a call center. Selling beauty products on the street in Mexico.
In her month in the United States, she has quickly come to understand she'll have to make sacrifices in this country. That the reports she鈥檇 heard back in Colombia about earning $1,000 a week were likely hyperbole. That she鈥檒l have to push her body to its limits doing manual labor. She鈥檒l have to accept below-standard wages until she gets work permission, if it ever comes. She鈥檒l have to stay in someone鈥檚 living room with other new arrivals and give up her privacy.
But subjecting herself to the whims of a stranger in such an intimate and vulnerable way?
鈥淣o,鈥 she tells the woman. 鈥淚鈥檓 not going anywhere with anyone.鈥
The man is told to leave. The insults start immediately.
How are you going to earn money, girl? asks the woman. You鈥檙e not going to just live here for free. The food here is good, isn鈥檛 it? But it鈥檚 not free.
Roca doesn't know what to expect 鈥 maybe violence. She and her cousin have no money or transportation. They're essentially trapped. But a few days later, Roca leaves as El Cubano yells insults from his trailer. A Venezuelan woman she met outside Home Depot finds someone to help them leave Kentucky.
Where did they want to go? Somewhere she knew people, she remembers thinking. Somewhere with other migrants.
Back to Aurora and East Colfax Avenue.
Even among Aurora's migrants, life isn't better
Back in Aurora, Roca reached out to a Venezuelan woman she'd met briefly begging for money outside the Walmart on Colfax. Soon she took a place in the woman鈥檚 living room, sharing a queen-sized blow-up mattress with the woman鈥檚 teenage son.
Roca found a job on the weekends helping a man set up and break down his stall at an outdoor flea market. She hefted large sacks of used clothing over her shoulders, put out the clothing on display, talked to customers. All for $10 an hour. 鈥淚t鈥檚 an abusive wage," she said, 鈥渂ut it鈥檚 a job.鈥
She tried standing outside Home Depot, but found many people propositioned her for sex or wouldn鈥檛 pay her after she completed legitimate jobs. She gave up standing outside a day laborer鈥檚 center in Aurora when she didn鈥檛 feel safe trying to jockey for work against dozens of men, who would push her out of the way and jump onto moving trucks rounding up workers.
On most days walking along Colfax Avenue, Roca says, men would solicit her for sex, holding up their fingers to signal how many hundreds of dollars they were willing to pay.
As she looked for work in March, she came across what looked like an old motel, a place she hadn鈥檛 tried before. 鈥淚s this a hotel or a motel? I don鈥檛 know,鈥 she said as she opened the heavy metal door. 鈥淟et鈥檚 check.鈥
In the small vestibule, a 1970s-era cigarette vending machine stood in the corner. A grandfatherly man waited behind a plexiglass sliding window. There were no vacancies, but he urged her to try the bar in the back. 鈥淭hey鈥檙e always looking for girls,鈥 he said.
Roca walked to the rear of the building and recognized the name of the bar. 鈥淚 know about this place,鈥 she said.
At a few Mexican cantinas around Aurora and Denver, women are paid to talk and drink with men. 鈥淔icheras,鈥 as the women are known in Spanish, sell beers at a significant markup to men and pocket the profits. It can be a fast way to earn money, but also a route to sex trafficking or the drug trade. Visit these establishments, and you can see some 鈥渇icheras鈥 wearing government-issued ankle bracelets with their sky-high heels. The bracelets were given to them by federal immigration officials to monitor their movements while they await immigration hearings.
鈥淚 don鈥檛 think I have to do that yet,鈥 Roca said. 鈥淏ut this street 鈥 it only offers prostitution.鈥
She boards another Greyhound 鈥 and moves on
Since returning to Aurora, Roca had discovered she has few options for establishing legal residence or working legally in the U.S. She told U.S. Border Patrol officials she plans to plead for asylum at her deportation hearing next year, but she doubts they will grant it. Ironically, what happened to her in Kentucky could help her win a visa. The U.S. government issues special visas to victims of sex trafficking here, but Roca has never wanted to report the Cuban couple, fearing they might come after her.
She had gotten in touch through Facebook with a high school friend from Colombia living for the last year in the northeastern United States. 鈥淪he鈥檚 told me she can get me a job at a hotel and I can stay with her,鈥 she said. 鈥淲hat would you do if you were me?" she asked a reporter. "Would you go?鈥
The idea of learning to move around a new American city exhausted Roca. But without more work, there wasn鈥檛 much keeping her in Aurora. Her roommates were headed to eviction court the next week. She didn鈥檛 know where she would go if they lost the apartment.
Two days later, with about $80 in her pocket, Roca boarded a Greyhound bus paid for by the city of Denver. She landed in a new town 鈥 one that hasn鈥檛 received busloads of migrants from Texas 鈥 and reunited with her high school friend. (The Associated Press is not identifying her new location, since Roca is afraid the Cuban couple might seek her out after she spoke about them in the media.)
Roca鈥檚 friend followed through on her promises, allowing her to live with her and connecting her to a job cleaning hotel rooms. Roca has already changed jobs and has found one she likes better. She walks through the city with ease 鈥 and anonymously.
鈥淚t鈥檚 a huge difference from my life in Denver,鈥 she says. 鈥淭here鈥檚 less chaos, and no one has disrespected me. It's been a great refuge."
She's not sure how long she'll stay. But Sofia Roca will never live in Aurora, Colorado, again.
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