Showing Up for Our Haitian Neighbors: Reflections on our “ICE: We See You” Vigils
Photo credit: Matt Shiffler Photography
When our partners at Springfield Neighbors United told us that hundreds of Haitians had received alarming letters from ICE ordering them to check in at the Blue Ash field office—some at 8 am on a Sunday morning—our partner’s request was simple: we need Cincinnati to sound the alarm.
ICE is clearly attempting to distance itself from the wildly unpopular and lethal raids from early 2026 that happened in places like Minneapolis and sparked public outrage. So, it’s switching tactics–still deporting in record numbers, but doing so through a more targeted approach, this time through covert administrative means.
Temporary Protected Status (TPS) officially ended for Haitian immigrants on August 5, closing the loop on the SCOTUS ruling that was handed down on June 25, 2026. Driver’s licenses are now beginning to be revoked, work permits stripped, and passports taken away. And yet this same community is expected to travel more than 70 miles from their homes for ominous “check-ins” that could easily end in family separation, disappearance, and deportation back to Haiti.
We put out the call with our organizing partners, Miami Valley Immigration Coalition, for two vigils to take place outside the ICE field office. The goal was to draw local and national attention to what ICE was attempting to do in the shadows, along with standing in solidarity with our Haitian neighbors bravely showing up for their check-ins. Across the two vigils held from 7-9 AM on Sunday, Aug. 2 and Aug. 9, more than 1,200 concerned and compassionate Ohioans answered that call.
A group of participants from St. Johns Unitarian Universalist Church reflected on their experience, saying “It was a powerful experience, simple in concept – be present with a sign, showing the world that we see what ICE is doing to our neighbors, in this case, those who left Haiti […] and sought a safe life in Springfield, OH.
“For most, if not all of us […] this was the closest we have been to an ICE office or ICE staff. We noted the unmarked building and office park setting designed to not be noticed… and the odd time that these folks from Springfield are being expected to show up at the ICE office. WE SEE YOU, ICE!”
Photo credit: St. John’s UU
Another participant, Corinne Pearson, wrote a poem about her experience at the vigil.
The Man in a Red Jacket
Who is he, the man in a red jacket?
A jacket worthy of a celebration.
He has little to celebrate today
As he walks with dignity, head held high
To meet his destiny
At the hands of strangers.
He has no country to call home,
His crime was fleeing from crime.
The dull brown building swallows him.
He is now a statistic, a problem to be solved, eliminated.
When the system spits him out
He will still be a beautiful soul
Wearing a red jacket
But now he will be held hostage by hate, by a country that refuses to know him.
Who is he, the man in a red jacket?
May he find a way to live,
May he know a love so deep
It will hold him
When all else is taken away.
Photo credit: Jacob Sebastian, The Enquirer
All of our Haitian immigrant neighbors left their check-in meetings with bulky ankle monitors. Make no mistake, this act of intimidation and surveillance shackling is violence. Instilling fear and creating panic is the goal. Multiple people leaving their check-ins expressed gratitude for the presence of the vigil and said they felt loved and supported by everyone who gathered to bear witness.
Thank you to all those who came out so early in the morning to let the world know what this country is doing to those whom it promised safe harbor. Here are just a few of the many outlets, both local and national, that covered the vigils and the stories of the Haitian community from Springfield who are now faced with so much uncertainty.