Luz-Marina Niño is enjoying a sense of stability that, at some points, she doubted she would ever find in Chicago.
For the last 10 months, the 33-year-old asylum seeker from Venezuela has been living in a comfortable two-bedroom apartment in the integrated South Side Beverly neighborhood with her 10-year old son, Jose, and other family members.
“When I got here, at first it was very difficult and I thought that everything I had gone through to get here wasn’t worth it,” Niño said in Spanish.
Niño and her son spent many nights in makeshift encampments in Central America en route to the United States. When she arrived in Chicago last summer, she was sent to a police station and then to the Chicago Inn, a former hotel turned city-run shelter. Niño felt unsafe and lost.
A few months later, her circumstances brightened. Niño connected with Catherine’s Caring Cause, a local nonprofit that helped her find an apartment and paid her rent until she was financially stable. She recently got a work permit and found a job cleaning at a local hospital. Niño no longer peels shrimp at a market that paid her less than minimum wage before she was able to work legally. Her son enjoys going to school.
But this isn’t the end of Niño’s journey. Settling in and adjusting to life in Chicago is the next big challenge. Amid a wave of migrants bused or flown from the southern border, primarily by the Texas governor since 2022, the integration process for the more than 42,000 migrants who trekked to Chicago isn’t easy. It often involves one challenge after another. Family, language, immigration status, and the ability to work legally play a significant role in this process.
A network of Chicago residents and nonprofits are helping ease the way. That’s clear in Niño’s case, as the sense of hopelessness she felt when she first arrived is slowly fading away.
She has a strong support network. The co-founders of Catherine’s Caring Cause — nuns Pat Murphy and JoAnn Persch from the Sisters of Mercy — assigned Niño a mentor who helps her navigate life in Chicago. The organization offers similar rent assistance, connection to resources and mentorship to more than 10 migrant families.
For the last 10 months, Luz-Marina Niño has been living with her son, Jose, and her sister’s family in a two-bedroom apartment in the Beverly neighborhood. She connected with Catherine’s Caring Cause, a local nonprofit that helped her find an apartment and paid her rent until she is financially stable.
Manuel Martinez/WBEZ
“I hope Luz feels comfortable asking me questions and if I don’t know the answer I will find it because there are a lot of things I don’t know,” said Carol Conway, a retired English teacher who mentors Niño and is also one of the co-founders.
Niño, who is petite and quiet, is grateful for her new network. But she and other newcomers know how far they still have to go before they feel at home here, despite all the support.
The next big hurdle is learning English.
Learning the language
Another new migrant named Elizabeth also wants to learn English — so she can keep up with her kids.
Her oldest is a first grader on the Northwest Side and her youngest will soon be enrolled in preschool. She wants to learn English because she worries her children will learn at school and soon she won’t understand what they are saying.
That prompted her to register for English classes with the help of Onward Neighborhood House, a community organization in Belmont Cragin. She’s also learning new words at the fast food restaurant where she works.
“We need to be more social and not be so afraid of asking questions [in English],” Elizabeth, an asylum seeker from Ecuador, said in Spanish. She asked not to use her last name. “Most people don’t speak English because they are afraid of mispronouncing it.”
Elizabeth, like Luz, is also relying on community organizations, like Onward Neighborhood House, for help adjusting. Other asylum seekers are learning the rules of the road when driving, and their rights and responsibilities as new residents. They even learn about sensitive topics, such as sexuality and consent.
“Each [migrant] experiences their process differently, depending on the context in which each person has arrived,” said Andres Albarracin, an Onward caseworker who grew up in Colombia. He’s lived in Chicago for nearly two years and understands what it takes to adapt.
Adapting to the gig economy and next steps
In some Chicago neighborhoods such as Little Village, migrants are adjusting more easily, said Baltazar Enriquez with the Little Village Community Council. The neighborhood is home to many undocumented immigrants from Mexico who speak Spanish and aren’t strangers to the hyperlocal gig economy.
Enriquez said some migrants in his neighborhood have caught on to that and are becoming entrepreneurs, selling traditional Venezuelan food on the streets like arepas, round corn-based pancakes, and salchipapas, thinly sliced fried hotdog meat with french fries.
“People are willing to taste new things,” said Enriquez, who is originally from Mexico. “They’re eating our food. We’re eating their food.”
Enriquez said he is also teaching migrants to stay out of fights and out of trouble. One of his first lessons was to avoid wearing colors that represent local gangs.
“We want to educate the people,” he said, adding that he usually teaches migrant parents how to talk to their children about gangs. “You’re not going to be safe if you’re out that late.”
Many migrants like Niño and Elizabeth say going back to Venezuela or Ecuador is not an option. Most of their relatives have left their homelands.
For her next step in the adjustment process, Niño is moving to a house near Midway Airport with her son, her parents and other relatives. Meanwhile, Elizabeth has given herself a less than a year deadline to learn English. She said adjusting means supporting her children in school, making new friends, and taking her kids to the park on her days off.
Adriana Cardona-Maguigad covers immigration for WBEZ. Follow her on X @AdrianaCardMag.
