The word around the global campfire is that Cubans feel double crossed by the Trump administration. One of the more insulting dynamics of this now foregone Cuban-Republican alliance is the premise under which they operated. It was as if they assumed that only Cubans deserved any kind of legal status, and, even economic support, from the US immigration system.
Case in point, Liyian Páez, a Cuban-American woman living in the U.S., finds herself devastated and disillusioned after her husband, Alían Méndez Aguilar, was deported to Cuba. A supporter of Donald Trump, Páez admits she once believed the right-wing promise that only “criminals” would be targeted for deportation. Now that her law-abiding husband has been torn from their family, she sees the truth: this system doesn’t care about who’s “good” or “bad”—it only cares about who is disposable.
Background
Aguilar, 28, had built a life in the U.S. after arriving in 2019. When the Cuban government initially refused to take him back, he was allowed to remain under supervision. In that time, he worked, married Páez, and helped raise their children—including a child with special needs—without any legal troubles. Yet in April, ICE deported him anyway, proving once again that “good behavior” won’t save you in a system designed to criminalize migration and poverty itself.
Now, Páez is raising their children alone. In an emotional interview with Univision which is itself reeling from association with Trump, she said, “I thought they would only deport criminals… We are good people.” Her words reflect the painful realization many immigrants and Chicanos alike have faced: that believing in the lies of the system doesn’t make you safe from its violence.
After the deportation, Páez took her children to Cuba to visit Aguilar. Their young daughter was overcome with emotion upon seeing her father again. The curious thing to a third party observer is how she was able to regain entry in the midst of so much tentative agreements around visist to countries like Cuba and Venezuela.
While Aguilar remains in Cuba, working on legal strategies to return, Páez is trying to rally support from U.S. senators and representatives—hoping the same government that tore her family apart might help reunite them.
This story underscores a hard truth familiar to Chicanos across the Southwest and beyond: policies rooted in xenophobia, whether targeting Central Americans, Mexicans, or Cubans, do not discriminate in their cruelty. It’s a wake-up call for those who believed the state would treat them differently if they distanced themselves from “those other” immigrants. Now Páez, like so many before her, must face the consequences of believing that aligning with power would protect her family.
As Chicanos, we know better. The fight has always been about solidarity with the people—not bootlicking politicians who use our communities as pawns.