All disasters disrupt communities, but impacts are never evenly distributed. Research has shown that socially marginalized groups bear the brunt of disaster harm—whether due to lack of resources, institutionalized discrimination, or being left out of disaster planning processes. Among these groups, undocumented immigrants are one of the most overlooked.
Undocumented immigrants come from diverse countries and have a variety of statuses—including those with Temporary Protected Status and those with Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, often referred to as DACA or Dreamers. While these groups may have differing approaches for surviving while being racialized as “illegal,” their undocumented status makes them less likely to access disaster relief and protect themselves from hazards.
In addition to disasters, undocumented immigrants face the added risk of deportation. Furthermore, like disasters, deportation is a systemic threat that upends lives and leaves devastation in its wake. The lived experiences of undocumented immigrants illuminate these layered dangers and how they prepare for them.
Recognizing deportation as a form of disaster broadens our conceptualization of vulnerability while also highlighting how undocumented communities have created their own systems of preparedness. The resilience and resourcefulness that undocumented immigrants demonstrate in their preparation for deportation provide lessons for disaster planners and could strengthen disaster planning for all.
Preparing for Disaster Every Day
For the millions of undocumented immigrants living in the United States, the fear of deportation isn’t an occasional worry; it’s a daily reality. Imagine living with the constant knowledge that, at any moment, a knock on the door could mean being torn away from your family, your home, and your community. This fear can become a constant hum in the background, shaping everyday behavior. For example, undocumented parents might avoid attending public events, such as festivals, where there is a risk of encountering police or immigration officials.
Unlike many disasters, there are no advance warnings or shelter-in-place orders for deportation. It strikes suddenly, often without any semblance of fairness or justice. And while disaster preparedness plans emphasize readiness for events like floods or fire, there’s no official guidebook to help prepare for a deportation raid. Yet, undocumented communities do just that—plan, prepare, and find ways to survive despite the looming threat of expulsion.
Deportation planning may not be the type of preparedness that comes to mind when considering disaster management. But it is, in many ways, more comprehensive and resourceful than most conventional emergency plans. Families prepare documents, arrange guardianships for children, and create networks of trusted contacts who can provide support in case of detainment. These strategies are born out of necessity, not choice—because being caught unprepared could mean losing everything.
These are all forms of crisis management that parallel disaster response strategies, illustrating how deportation planning functions as an implicit form of disaster preparedness. The reality of deportation forces undocumented communities to live in a constant state of readiness. It also holds promise for learning how people come together to prepare for worst case scenarios.
Living with Layers of Vulnerability
Many undocumented immigrants live in areas at risk of natural hazards. This combination of threats—being undocumented and living in hazard-prone places—creates a double layer of vulnerability that limits their choices and the ability to protect themselves in disasters.
For example, during the 2017 Thomas Fire in California, many undocumented farmworkers were forced to choose between working in conditions that damaged their health or losing the only income they had to sustain their families. Without proper protective equipment, multilingual emergency alerts, or the ability to easily access disaster relief, they were left to fend for themselves.
During the 2017 Sonoma County wildfires, stories emerged of undocumented families that chose not to evacuate because they feared U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement would find them in the shelters. These families knew the risks, but the threat of deportation was even more frightening than the flames. Such decisions reflect a grim reality—the intersection of immigration status and disaster can be deadly.
Despite these barriers, undocumented communities continue to organize and advocate for themselves. They participate in Know Your Rights workshops, share resources within trusted networks, and develop their own disaster plans. This resilience deserves recognition—not just as a survival strategy but as a form of resistance. By taking control of their preparedness, these communities articulate that they will not be erased.
Rethinking Disaster Preparedness: A Call to Action
Disaster planners can learn a lot from how undocumented families approach preparedness. Their actions show that disaster planning isn’t just about physical safety—it’s about maintaining dignity, agency, and the ability to protect one’s family. Imagine how much stronger disaster planning could be if undocumented people were not just included, but actively engaged and carefully consulted, in the process.
Disaster preparedness is more than just a technical exercise—it’s a moral obligation for governments and emergency planners to ensure the safety of all communities. When we exclude the most marginalized from planning, we actively decide whose lives matter.
Even as the number of undocumented people in the United States has risen over the decades, undocumented status has been overlooked in the planning process, treated as an afterthought, or ignored altogether. But as climate-induced disasters become more frequent and severe, it’s time to rethink what it means to be prepared.
Preparedness means building trust, creating accessible resources, and ensuring that everyone has a seat at the planning table, regardless of citizenship status. When undocumented families plan for deportation and disasters, they’re not just preparing for the unexpected—they’re preparing for survival. It’s time we acknowledge that and plan with them.
Carlo Chunga Pizarro is a PhD candidate in urban and environmental planning and policy at the University of California, Irvine. He has a background in urban planning and GIS. His research addresses the intersections of immigration policy and disaster management systems. Chunga Pizarro has published works on farm worker safety during wildfires, as well as reviews in journals focused on undocumented critical theory, adaptive governance, and nonprofit disaster preparedness. A Ford Foundation Fellow and Decarbonization Fellow, he has been involved with the Bill Anderson Fund as a student council executive member since 2021.