How Community Support Freed Two Sisters from Adelanto
By Alejandra Romo
Venus (not her real name) arrived in the United States, determined to build a life for herself after being forced to flee Iran because of her Christian faith. However, upon arriving, she was soon to discover that her pursuit of safety and freedom was far from its end.
Venus and her sister were born into the Muslim faith in Iran, where due to the current regime, conversion from Islam is illegal and heavily persecuted. After both sisters made the decision to convert to Christianity, they faced serious threats to their safety. The two would practice their faith at clandestine church services held in homes. For them, their hidden worship was a place of hope.
Authorities discovered the home church they were attending. Almost overnight, everything they knew disappeared. They could no longer return home or remain in their city, as staying meant they’d be arrested, beaten, and then killed. She and her sister fled with only what they could carry, leaving behind their mother, other siblings, their language, and the only home they had ever known. The difficult journey eventually brought them to the United States, where they arrived seeking asylum with the hope that, at last, they would be safe and have the chance to rebuild their lives away from religious persecution.
After entering the country, immigration officials informed Venus that she was eligible to pursue an asylum claim. She settled in Los Angeles, found legal representation, filed her asylum application, and began rebuilding her life. She enrolled in English classes, hoping to continue her education, and dreamed of becoming a nurse one day. For the first time since fleeing Iran, the future felt possible again.
Then, without warning, that future was interrupted.
Several months after arriving in Los Angeles, ICE officers arrested her while she was walking down the street on a summer day. She was taken to a federal holding facility where she spent five days in a freezing room, wearing only the light summer clothing she had been arrested in. She endured with little food, no shower, and unsanitary restroom conditions.
Afterwards, she was transferred to Adelanto, where days turned into weeks, then months, each one marked by uncertainty about whether she would be allowed to stay or be forced to return to the place she had fled for her life.
In detention, this young woman endured harsh conditions marked by illness, uncertainty, and isolation. She described living in a large dormitory lined with rows of bunk beds, where more than one hundred women shared the same space. Privacy did not exist, and peaceful moments were almost impossible to find. “It was more than 100 people talking together, laughing, crying,” she recalled.
The physical conditions were equally difficult. The air conditioning ran constantly, leaving the facility uncomfortably cold day and night. Detainees were provided only a thin blanket and a standard uniform, offering little protection from the cold. Those who had loved ones able to deposit money into their commissary accounts could purchase extra clothing, but that was not a possibility for this young woman. Most of her family remained in Iran, where the combination of the US war and widespread internet restrictions had made communication impossible from behind detention walls, leaving her unable to speak to them. The only loved one she had by her side was her sister, who was detained alongside her. With no one from the outside who could send money or provide additional support, the two sisters endured the cold with only what they had been given.
The temperature, combined with overcrowded and unsanitary conditions, left many people to catch colds, while others developed serious medical conditions. Yet, medical care was not prominent. During their time in detention, her sister developed a urinary tract infection that went largely untreated for months. Despite experiencing severe pain, the sister did not receive antibiotics until months later, after their attorney repeatedly urged detention staff. She recalled sharing the facility with people ranging from 18-year-olds to an 85-year-old grandmother from Colombia, who had already spent three months in detention so far and was sick, unsure about when, if ever, she would be released.
She reflected, “There was medical care, but just in name without treatment”
Despite these conditions, she refused to let the sorrow of detention consume her. She made a promise to herself to use time as purposefully as she could. She exercised every day, read books, studied the Bible, practiced Spanish with other detainees while helping them improve their English, and even earned her GED during her six months in detention. “If I want or if I don’t want,” she remembered telling herself, “I have to stay here.” Instead of allowing detention to take away her sense of purpose, she held tightly to the hope that one day she would have the opportunity to continue building the life she had come to the United States to pursue.
After nearly five months in detention, her attorney shared the first hopeful news she had received in months: she and her sister were eligible to be released on bond. But freedom came with conditions they had no way of meeting. They needed both a sponsor and twenty thousand dollars to pay their bonds. With no family in the United States, no financial resources, and no one they knew of able to help, the possibility of release felt out of reach. Feeling isolated and forgotten, it seemed they would remain behind detention center walls.
An unexpected act of kindness changed everything. Another woman detained who they had become acquainted with, learned about their situation and promised that if she was released first, she would tell her pastor about the two of them. Once she was released, she stayed true to her word, and a pastor went to visit the sisters in detention soon after.
Venus had never cried when she was arrested. She did not cry during court hearings or throughout the months she spent in detention, as hard as it was. Instead, she prayed and held onto her faith. But when she saw someone walk through the visitation doors just to see her, she broke down in tears. For months, she had felt forgotten. That visit reminded her that she was not alone.
Through CLUE’s Immigration Bond Fund and network of faith leaders, she was able to receive the support they needed. CLUE paid the bonds for her and her sister, making their release possible after six months in detention.
Release was only the beginning. When the sisters walked out of the detention center, they would have nowhere to go. They had lost their housing, clothing, and lacked other basic necessities. CLUE and local congregations stepped in. Volunteers arranged transportation, secured a hotel room until long term housing could be secured, provided meals, purchased clothing, gave them a phone, and helped with work permit applications. They now had a community walking alongside them as they rebuilt their lives.
Today, the sisters are living in church-supported housing and attending Glendale Community College as full-time students. Venus is pursuing her dream of becoming a nurse while continuing her asylum case. While challenges remain, she speaks about the future with optimism.
Her story is a powerful reminder that mutual aid through the Bond Fund and community-led support can make a world of difference.