OPINION: Why Charlotte Can’t Look Away From CBP Raids

Charlotte loves to call itself a beacon of diversity, a majority-minority city with bustling immigrant corridors, Black cultural legacy, and neighborhoods where dozens of languages spill out onto the same block. But beneath that bright narrative sits a truth we’ve been trained to overlook: a generations-deep pattern of over-policing, racialized surveillance, and structural inequity that has never fully gone away.

And now, with ICE and Customs & Border Protection (CBP) raids sweeping through our communities, that buried truth is surfacing again, not as history, but as harm. Families are being destabilized in real time. Trust is collapsing. And the people who built this city’s vibrancy are once again being asked to pay the price for it.

National discourse often frames immigration enforcement as a concern limited to Latinx communities. But history makes clear that immigration has always been, and remains, a profoundly Black issue. From the era of slave catching in the antebellum South to the experiences of African and Afro-Caribbean immigrants today, Black communities have long been targeted by the same carceral systems, legal precarity and state-sanctioned violence that define America’s immigration apparatus.

Modern policing in the South cannot be separated from this lineage. Its roots lie in slave patrols, organized groups tasked with surveilling, capturing and punishing Black people to enforce a racial order. The tactics they employed warrantless searches, community surveillance and punitive enforcement did not disappear after emancipation. They were absorbed into policing practices that upheld Jim Crow and continue to shape law enforcement today.

Understanding that history is essential to making sense of Charlotte’s present. The recent surge in ICE operations is not an administrative event. It is part of a continuum of racialized policing. These raids disproportionately impact Black and Hispanic residents, disrupting households, separating parents from children and creating a climate of pervasive fear in neighborhoods already subject to heavy surveillance.

Charlotte’s own history amplifies this reality. After the police killing of Keith Lamont Scott in 2016, the deployment of the National Guard and imposition of citywide curfews demonstrated how swiftly state force can be mobilized in Black communities. The now-repealed Extraordinary Events Ordinance, which granted police expansive powers during declared crises, further illustrated how institutional authority and racialized enforcement often work in tandem.

Read more: Activists Recall the Lasting Impact of Keith Lamont Scott (2022)

The city’s connection to federal immigration enforcement runs even deeper. Mecklenburg County’s participation in the 287(g) program from 2006 to 2018 enabled local law enforcement to act as arms of ICE. More than 15,000 county residents were processed through the program, which drew widespread criticism for racial profiling and for fracturing trust between immigrant communities and law enforcement. 

Mecklenburg County Sheriff Garry McFadden terminated the program on his first day in office, citing its damage to community relations. Yet its legacy endures. 

Early childhood education researchers have documented how immigrant families in Charlotte still avoid essential services out of fear of encountering law enforcement. The Charlotte Urban Institute and recent firsthand accounts suggest that the latest immigration enforcement operations are reactivating those long-standing anxieties.

The current crackdown marks a historic escalation. Charlotte has become one of the first inland Southern cities to face a sustained, multi-agency operation of the scale we saw from ICE and Customs and Border Protection last week. 

According to reporting by The Guardian, at least 81 people were arrested statewide in a single day. Some were U.S. citizens, a reminder of the civil liberties risks inherent in broad enforcement sweeps. Business corridors closed as agents targeted areas with high immigrant foot traffic, upending daily life for entire communities.

Legal professionals and community advocates are witnessing the fallout in real time. Attorneys describe families navigating not only the threat of detention, but profound emotional trauma. 

“I don’t see accountability and safety as opposites,” says Darlene Harris, civil rights attorney and founder of Power in Protection Law. “If people can’t trust those sworn to protect, there can’t be safety. Holding bad actors accountable in itself is promoting a safe community.” 

She adds that, in her civil rights practice, one of the biggest barriers to accountability is qualified immunity. 

“Qualified immunity basically says that even if an officer clearly violated someone’s rights, they can’t be held responsible unless another court case already said that same or similar thing was illegal in the same or similar way,” she continues. “It’s like telling a kid. So legally, I’d really like to see qualified immunity removed as a defense. It’s the crutch many police departments lean on.”

For lawmakers, the stakes could not be higher. Policy choices now will determine whether Charlotte protects the rights and safety of immigrant, Black and Hispanic communities or reinforces a system that prioritizes federal enforcement over civil liberties. 

“Due to federalism, local and state leaders have very few options for recourse, especially when the federal government has been completely unresponsive to state and local leaders’ questions about operations,” says NC Rep. Jordan Lopez, who represents east Charlotte where many of last week’s CBP actions took place. “Hyper-aggressive policing can absolutely have a negative impact on community and local law enforcement relations, that takes years to build; and will now likely take years to gain back. 

“I would be happy to champion legislation that does several things with respect to ICE/CBP raids, primarily around the requirement that immigration officers must have clear identification as to who they are when operating in our communities,” he continues. “Additionally, passing legislation that requires immigration officials to have signed warrants in order to enter sensitive locations like churches, hospitals, and courthouses could be a positive step.”

Meaningful reform requires accountability in policing, measurable progress toward protections for vulnerable residents, and investments in community-based, non-punitive alternatives to enforcement.

Charlotte’s experience has national implications. The city’s demographic diversity, its rapidly growing immigrant population and the scale of recent enforcement activity position it as a bellwether for the South and beyond. What unfolds here will offer lessons and, perhaps, a blueprint for how communities can resist harmful practices and assert a more just, equitable vision of public safety.

The destabilization of Black and Hispanic neighborhoods should concern every resident, not only immigrant families. When enforcement practices erode trust, suppress participation and sow fear, they weaken the democratic foundations of the entire community. Charlotte’s own history shows that injustice rarely remains confined to one group. When one community lives under threat, the integrity of democracy itself is compromised.

Yet Charlotte also offers a path forward. Grassroots leaders, faith communities and immigrant advocates are mobilizing with urgency. 

“I don’t think our policymakers fully understand the sheer fear victims of crime experience when they engage with law enforcement,” says NC Sen. Mujtaba Mohammed. “The lack of open and effective communication, inadequate body-cam legislation which forces victims, most times those without resources, to petition a Superior Court judge for body-cam footage, which documents all interactions with law enforcement, widens the gap of trust between the community and law enforcement. 

Read more: With CBP Leaving Charlotte, Residents Shift Focus to Supporting Affected Communities

Mohammed has championed legislation that would grant subpoena powers to citizen review boards and amend our body-cam legislation to increase transparency and trust. 

“We need to do everything we can to invest in our police officers, from adequate pay and ample time off to updated training protocols and wrap-around services,” he said. “Our officers answer every call, and we need to provide them with the resources they need to do their jobs safely and effectively while maintaining the highest training standards and public trust.” 

Their efforts highlight the importance of civic literacy, legal education and sustained public pressure in holding institutions accountable and ensuring that all residents are recognized, protected and valued.

Charlotte now stands at a critical crossroads. Families live with the constant threat of separation. Neighborhoods feel under surveillance. Trust in public institutions is fraying. But the city’s long history of Black resilience and immigrant activism points toward a different future, one defined not by fear, but by justice and collective power.

What happens in Charlotte matters. If this city can chart a course anchored in dignity and community protection, it can offer the nation a model for what democracy looks like when it chooses compassion over coercion. 

Charlotte’s strength will not be measured by how it enforces the law, but by how fiercely it protects its most vulnerable residents.