Israel Centeno
Nobody abandons the warmth of their homeland just to take pictures under the snow, to endure hours of commuting in New York, or to struggle to make ends meet in Miami. Migration is not an aesthetic choice; it is a necessity, often driven by political instability, economic collapse, or personal survival.
The 770,000 Venezuelans living in the U.S. did not leave their country for a picturesque winter scene. They left because their homeland became unlivable under the weight of dictatorship, corruption, and economic ruin. Many of them had careers, homes, and lives they never wished to abandon. Yet, circumstances forced them into a reality where they now work tirelessly to build a new life, contribute to their communities, and provide for their families.
Despite this, a false narrative is being pushed—one that conflates Venezuelan migration with crime, using the 0.28% of Venezuelans linked to the Tren de Aragua as an excuse to stigmatize an entire population. This is not about security; it is about politics, about scapegoating a vulnerable group for electoral gain.
No one argues that crime should be ignored. But punishing an entire community for the actions of a few is a betrayal of fundamental principles. Venezuelans under TPS are workers, taxpayers, and integral parts of the economy. They do not deserve to be cast into legal limbo or defined by criminals who represent a minuscule fraction of their population.
The Danger of Generalization: How Venezuelans Are Being Targeted
Throughout history, generalization has been a tool for stigmatization, division, and political manipulation. Stalin labeled his opponents “fascists” to justify purges. Hitler portrayed Jews and communists as part of an international conspiracy to destroy Germany. Mao’s Cultural Revolution eliminated dissenters under the guise of ideological purity. Fidel Castro branded critics as “imperialists” or CIA agents, a tactic later echoed by Chávez and Maduro. Even during the Cold War, the U.S. dismissed opposition as “communist” without considering individual cases. Today, in the 21st century, this same strategy is being used against Venezuelans.
The 770,000 Venezuelans living in the U.S. are now being unfairly associated with crime due to the Tren de Aragua, a Venezuelan gang that has expanded its operations beyond national borders. While this criminal organization, empowered by the Maduro regime, poses a security threat, it represents only 0.28% of the total Venezuelan population in the country. Despite this, media narratives and government rhetoric are portraying the entire Venezuelan community as a liability.
The reality is different. Most Venezuelans in the U.S. are law-abiding, hardworking individuals who pay taxes and contribute to the economy. Their migration was not a choice but a necessity—triggered by the collapse of their country under Maduro’s rule. When the U.S. imposed sanctions on Venezuela, it understood the humanitarian cost: a mass exodus of people fleeing persecution and economic ruin. Now, those same Venezuelans are being unfairly linked to organized crime to justify political decisions, including the removal of TPS protections.
No one argues that criminal organizations like El Tren de Aragua must be dismantled. But equating an entire nationality with a criminal minority is not only unjust—it’s dangerous. Americans are not defined by Jeffrey Epstein’s trafficking network, serial killers, or school shooters. Just as it would be absurd to define an entire nation by its worst elements, it is absurd to define Venezuelans by the actions of a gang that victimizes Venezuelans themselves.
This narrative is not about justice or public safety. It is about electoral politics and scapegoating. The goal is not to fix a crime problem but to create an enemy for political convenience. Blaming Venezuelans for systemic crime ignores the fact that organized crime exists in every society, at all levels. The Tren de Aragua should be fought with intelligence operations, law enforcement, and international cooperation—not by punishing a community that has already suffered enough.
To strip legal protections from innocent, working-class immigrants based on the crimes of a few is not just an injustice; it is a betrayal of fundamental principles. The Venezuelan community does not deserve to be demonized. It deserves the same dignity and fairness afforded to any other group. The challenge is not immigration—it is the reckless use of generalization as a political weapon.
If people want to talk about crime, they should talk about organized crime at all levels, in all nationalities—including within the U.S. itself. But let’s stop pretending that anyone leaves their country just to take a selfie in the snow. Migration is never that simple. It is always a story of struggle, resilience, and survival.
