As someone who has spent more than two decades studying child and community trauma in our city, I have grave concerns about the “Catahoula Crunch” deployment of Border Patrol agents in New Orleans. My concern is not whether immigration laws should be enforced—most people across the political spectrum agree our immigration system needs comprehensive reform. The concern is how enforcement is carried out, and the predictable, well-documented harm that certain tactics inflict on children and communities.
When people outside Louisiana think of Hurricane Katrina, they remember the storm. But those of us who lived it know that the devastation was largely man-made. The failure of federally constructed levees—despite years of warnings—transformed a natural event into a catastrophic breach of public trust. The trauma that followed was a direct result of institutional failure that acutely affected our children.
After Katrina, researchers in New Orleans documented significant increases in child PTSD symptoms, depression, and anxiety. In the years that followed, studies found that children exposed to community-wide trauma – like what we experienced in New Orleans – were more likely to experience persistent academic setbacks, attendance problems, and behavioral challenges. Those outcomes were strongest when trauma was recurrent, unpredictable, and linked to failures of the very systems meant to keep them safe.
We learned a painful truth from Katrina: When government decisions destabilize families and communities, the psychological impact on children is profound and lasting.
If Border Patrol agents flood immigrant neighborhoods, the trauma will not be theoretical. We are already seeing the effects. Before Thanksgiving, New Orleans charter school leaders reported noticeable increases in student absences as families feared sending children to school. Some schools prepared to transport students themselves and delivered food to families who were too afraid to leave their homes. These are classic indicators of community-level distress.
National data shows what we can expect locally. In other cities, immigration enforcement operations have led to sharp drops in school attendance immediately following sweeps; lower test scores and academic engagement during periods of heightened enforcement; elevated fear and anxiety even among U.S.-born children; and greater strain on teachers and school mental health providers.
Federal officials have emphasized that schools themselves are not being targeted. But research—and our own experiences—tell us that the presence of enforcement near schools is enough to disrupt learning and destabilize communities.
Some recent commentary has suggested that there shouldn’t be a big fuss because the operation targets dangerous criminals, not children. But the experiences of Louisiana families tell a different story. In New Orleans’ Lakeview neighborhood, 64-year-old Mandonna Kashanian— an Iranian-born woman who had lived in the United States for 47 years — was detained by plain-clothes ICE agents while tending her garden. In Lafayette, 73-year-old Jose Francisco Garcia Rodriguez, a longtime resident and grandfather, was taken into custody during a routine outing. These individuals were not violent offenders. They were neighbors and elders with deep local ties.
News and social-media coverage of these types of incidents can trigger trauma responses in both immigrant and non-immigrant youth. When children live with the fear that someone they love could disappear, the stress is real, measurable, and long-lasting—whether the intended target is a parent, a neighbor, or simply someone who looks like them.
Even now, children – now adults – who lived through Katrina and the mass displacement that followed the disaster talk about not knowing what happened to the school friend they played with every day before the storm, but never spoke with again. About their neighbor down the street whose family never returned. In the course of my work I have spoken with these children and seen the trauma that results from uncertainty about the past, which leads to uncertainty about their own futures. If their friends disappeared, could they also disappear just as easily?
There is a robust body of research on how community-level trauma affects child development. Chronic fear and unpredictability activate stress systems that interfere with concentration, memory, and emotional regulation. In schools recovering from Katrina, these effects lingered for years, influencing both academic outcomes and educator well-being.
These patterns are not partisan talking points. They are empirical findings that should inform public policy. If we are serious about protecting children—and about long-term community stability—enforcement must be conducted in ways that minimize harm. That means:
- Prohibiting immigration enforcement near schools, childcare centers, and school bus routes. Children deserve predictability and safety on their way to and from school.
- Coordinating with local educators and mental health professionals to mitigate community distress.
- Ensuring families retain safe access to essentials, including food, transportation, and medical care.
- Advancing federal immigration reforms that address root causes rather than relying on local operations that generate fear without producing durable solutions.
New Orleans knows what happens when government actions—whether through neglect or policy—tear at the fabric of a community. We carry the memory of a man-made disaster that reshaped a generation. We owe it to our children not to recreate those conditions.
Those of us who work with children understand why there is concern.
Because we see the fear forming.
Because we know the data.
Because the well-being of our students—and the future of our community—is on the line.
Stacy Overstreet, PhD, is a professor of psychology at Tulane University. The views expressed in this piece are her own.
