In spring 2018, a Honduran family's perilous journey to seek asylum in the United States is documented by filmmaker Cady Voge. The family faces separation, danger from organized criminals, and a long wait for their asylum court case. A Seattle synagogue and a Jewish family, empathizing with the refugees' plight due to their own historical experiences with the Holocaust, provide the family with housing. The documentary, 'All We Carry,' captures their odyssey and the broader issues surrounding asylum seekers, with America Ferrera among the activists supporting change.

The article discusses concerns raised by a nurse working at an ICE migrant detention center in Louisiana about the potential spread of COVID-19 due to the movement of detainees between facilities. The nurse, who remained anonymous, highlighted the lack of critical care resources and the risk of overburdening local hospitals. ICE insists that detainee transports are for valid medical reasons and states they are following CDC guidelines. Detainees are protesting and going on hunger strikes, fearing for their health and demanding better precautions or release. The article also mentions a recent drop in ICE's detainee population and legal actions by organizations like the SPLC and ACLU to reassess parole for asylum-seekers in light of the pandemic.

The journalist recounts their personal experience during the early stages of the COVID-19 pandemic, detailing the decision to leave Bogota, Colombia, and return to the United States amidst growing travel restrictions and uncertainty. The narrative includes accounts of other individuals affected by the situation, such as friends stuck in Peru and travelers met during the journey back to the U.S. The article highlights the swift changes in daily life and travel, the importance of family during crises, and the adjustments made upon arriving in the U.S., including a mandatory quarantine period. The journalist reflects on the newfound appreciation for slowing down, as exemplified by planning to bake cookies with a nephew.

In 2002, the Bojaya massacre in Colombia's western province of Choco resulted in the deaths of dozens, mostly women and children, when a cylinder bomb hit a church where civilians were taking refuge. After 17 years, the remains of 72 identified victims were returned to their families for proper burials. The identification process was complex due to the condition of the bodies and intermingling in the mass grave. Despite a 2016 peace deal, residents still live in fear of armed groups like the ELN and paramilitaries involved in illegal activities. The government and the United Nations assisted in the identification and return of the remains, and the community is now focused on the traditional ceremonies to finally say goodbye to their loved ones.

The article discusses the resurgence of violence in Putumayo, Colombia, particularly against women leaders and political candidates following the 2016 peace accords between the FARC guerrillas and the Colombian government. Despite the initial calm, the period leading up to the first local and regional elections since the accords has seen an increase in attacks, with 91 political figures and activists killed between October 2018 and August 2019. Women have been specifically targeted, with over 100 killed since 2016 for supporting the peace process and opposing armed groups and drug traffickers. The violence has escalated as new armed groups vie for control of the cocaine trade and aim to suppress community activism. Journalist Cady Voge and researcher Julia Zulver report on the situation, including interviews with affected women like Sandra, who is involved in helping former FARC fighters reintegrate but now faces threats herself.

The Department of Health and Human Services issued a final rule in March that impacts Title X funding, requiring recipients to be financially and physically separate from abortion-providing facilities, prohibiting abortion referrals, and eliminating the requirement for non-directive abortion counseling. This rule change introduces uncertainty for Utah's Planned Parenthood and its clients.

The article discusses the plight of Esther Ramos, a 16-year-old pregnant migrant who was detained at the US border along with her daughter and separated from her husband. Esther and her daughter were held in a facility for unaccompanied minors in Texas, where she lost 20 pounds during her pregnancy due to inadequate nutrition and care. The article highlights the Trump administration's policy changes that have led to an increase in the detention of pregnant migrants, a reversal from the Obama administration's presumption of release for pregnant women. Medical experts and migrant advocates criticize the detention of pregnant women, citing health risks and the increase in miscarriages in ICE custody. Despite having family in the US, Esther's release from detention took two months. Her husband remains in detention in Louisiana. The article underscores the vulnerability of pregnant migrants like Esther and the need for policy changes.

The article discusses the plight of Esther Ramos, a 16-year-old pregnant migrant who was detained at the US border along with her daughter and separated from her husband, Fredy Aldana. Esther and her daughter were held in a Customs and Border Protection cell and later transferred to a facility for unaccompanied minors. During her detention, Esther lost 20 pounds and suffered from inadequate nutrition and medical care. The article highlights the Trump administration's policy changes that have led to increased detention of pregnant migrants, contrasting it with the previous administration's presumption of release. It also covers the broader issue of miscarriages in ICE custody and the challenges faced by pregnant asylum seekers. Dr. Ranit Mishori and Phil Canete are quoted expressing concerns about the treatment of pregnant women in detention. The article is part of a series supported by the International Women's Media Foundation's Reproductive Health, Rights, and Justice in the Americas.

The article discusses the plight of Teresa and Maria, a lesbian couple from El Salvador seeking asylum in the United States to escape gang violence and discrimination. El Salvador has the highest rates of femicide and homicide in Latin America and the world, respectively. The couple faces a controversial 'metering' system implemented by the Trump administration, which forces asylum seekers to wait for weeks or months in Mexico before being granted a preliminary interview. The 'Remain in Mexico' policy, effective from 25 January, exacerbates the situation by sending asylum seekers back to Mexico until their immigration court date. Over 15,000 people have been returned to Mexican cities, including Ciudad Juárez, a city notorious for violence, especially against migrants, women, and LGBTI individuals. The article highlights the dangers faced by Teresa and Maria in Juárez, where they feel unsafe and unwelcome. The report by Cady Voge and Julia Zulver aims to shed light on the violence faced by LGBTI asylum seekers at the US-Mexico border.

The article tells the harrowing stories of several families from El Salvador who were separated at the US border due to the 'zero tolerance' immigration policy. Carlos Humberto Aguilar and his son Aaron were forcibly separated, causing lasting trauma and damaging their relationship. Despite presenting identification, Carlos was suspected of not being Aaron's real father and they were split up. Other families experienced similar trauma, with children showing signs of distress and fear long after being reunited with their parents. The policy of separating children from their parents at the border has been widely criticized, and mental health professionals like Dr. Faye Snyder emphasize the severe impact such separations can have on child development. The article highlights the long-term psychological effects of the policy, even after families are reunited.

The article discusses the use of cryptocurrency in Venezuela as a response to the country's hyperinflation and economic crisis. Juan Pinto, a former mechanical engineer, has turned to bitcoin as a means of preserving value and conducting transactions, avoiding the rapidly devaluing national currency, the bolivar. The article contrasts the speculative nature of bitcoin in the US with its practical, survival-based use in Venezuela. It also touches on the risks of mining bitcoin in Venezuela due to government crackdowns on high energy consumption. The government's introduction of its own cryptocurrency, the petro, is mentioned, highlighting its backing by natural resources and the ideological differences from decentralized cryptocurrencies like bitcoin.