The recent deportation of Southeast Asian refugees, particularly Hmong and Laotian immigrants, has triggered widespread concern and sorrow among communities in the United States. Wa Kong Lor is an educator, organizer, and Hmong refugee from the suburbs of Detroit. He is not alone or unaided in affirming this harsh reality. On August 11, after 60 years in the United States, Lor was deported to Laos carrying just a driver’s license and $65 in cash. His story illustrates the journey that countless people take when they are abruptly and unexpectedly driven from their native land—often unprepared and overnight.
Lor’s journey began under dire circumstances. Born to a refugee family that fled Laos following the Vietnam War. Even so, he had never set foot in the country to which he was deported. At the center of it all, his formative years were marked by adversity. At age 21, he was incarcerated for three years for property, drug and gun offenses. After spending 28 years behind bars, Lor was released to parole supervision in 2023—only to be perpetually exiled through deportation within months of his release. He was able to be reunited with his mother and two sisters shortly after release. He’d missed their entire infancy and hadn’t seen them since they were babies.
This issue is not an isolated case, the third example in a troubling pattern. Due to Donald Trump’s election a second time, authorities have deported nearly 2,000 Southeast Asians since then. The volume of forced removals of people with criminal records has increased over 2000%. In Minnesota by themselves, well over 150 Southeast Asians have been ordered deported since this past May. On Memorial Day weekend alone, just one flight deported 93 Vietnamese nationals and 65 Laotian nationals. This major recent incident serves to underscore the immense breadth of the issue.
Southeast Asians are disproportionately affected by deportations. Especially since they are three to five times more likely to be deported than other immigrant groups thanks to these convictions. Kua Yang, who was just deported to Laos, can’t process that this hasn’t changed. He had lived the majority of his 46 years life in the United States before this unexpected turn of events. “When I first came here I thought, ‘What am I going to do in this land?’ Now, I’d say I believe in a life here,” Yang stated, reflecting the shock and dismay many feel when faced with such abrupt changes.
As executive director for the non-profit Collective Freedom, Thao Ha knows firsthand the challenges that newly-deported people encounter. In particular, she highlighted the challenges that Lor and Yang are facing. “They’ve accepted that deportation is their fate,” she noted. However, she emphasized the urgent need for assistance: “New deportees to Laos need help securing safe housing, employment, and citizenship.”
The emotional toll on families left behind is profound. Maiyia Xiong shared her heartbreak over her husband’s deportation, stating, “I didn’t even get to say bye to my husband.” She lamented the lack of closure, saying, “I didn’t even get to hug him and say, ‘Whatever you’re going through, you’ll be okay. We’ll get through this together.’”
Quyen Dinh, executive director of the Southeast Asian Resource Action Center, called out the government’s procedure on carrying out these deportations. “We see these deportations as a betrayal of US duty to refugees,” she asserted. You’d be surprised how many people go, “Oh, please.” They argue that these actions specifically contradict the stated American values and long-held American responsibility to provide refuge for those fleeing persecution.
The future in Laos for these deportees is anything but clear. Thousands of former child soldiers struggle to reintegrate into a society where they have no past or threads to hold on to. Lor’s story embodies a larger story of collective trauma and loss felt by many. The failure to protect, prepare, and support them through their transition reflects the systemic failures that continue to fail these youth.