JERSEY CITY, N.J. — 22-year-old Michelle Carranza didn’t want to be one of the transgender women murdered in her native Honduras.
“They don’t accept us there. They kill us, they discriminate against us, they rape us,” Carranza told NBC News and MSNBC, with the Statue of Liberty in the background.
A year and a half ago, she fled Honduras with two friends, Greta Mazariegos, 29, and her brother Isaac, 20, who are also part of the LGBTQ+ community.
Michelle Carranza and Andres Gonzalez / NBC News
“Living in Honduras and being part of the LGBT community is synonymous with survival,” Greta Mazariegos said. “We have been persecuted many times for being part of the LGBTQ community.”
“We had to leave the country because of discrimination and assaults,” Isaac Mazariegos said.
Carranza said she was first harassed by members of a street gang known as the Maras after she refused to work for them. On one occasion, she said, the Maras broke into her apartment, smashed her furniture and left threatening, homophobic messages.
They say they were chased and nearly killed in a park in Honduras by men with machetes who shouted homophobic slurs.
“At that point I told Greta, ‘The best thing for me would be to leave Honduras, because I feel like I’m going to be killed here,'” Carranza said.
Face deadly risks and embark on a dangerous journey
Greta Mazariegos left Honduras to save herself and her brother: When Isaac was 14, his parents kicked them out of the house for being LGBTQ+.
“I had to become a very strong person for my brother,” Greta Mazariegos said. “I could endure the yelling, the beatings and the torture, but when I realized he was going through the same thing, my role changed from brother to father and mother.”
On February 7, 2023, they left for Guatemala and eventually made their way to the Mexican state of Chiapas and then Tijuana, near the U.S. border.
“When I left my country, I never imagined the number of dangers I would face,” Carranza said, wiping away tears.
In Tijuana, a meeting with a man close to Carranza turned violent.
“He said, ‘Today you are going to die. You are never going to see the light of day again. You are going to die in this hotel today,'” Carranza said. “Then he grabbed me by my hair and threw me on the bed. He tried to kill me. That man raped me,” Carranza said.
A short time later, health officials arrived at the Garden of Butterflies sanctuary where Carranza was staying and administered an HIV test.
“I was getting tested regularly, but the guy who raped me did it without using birth control,” Carranza said. “I walked outside with the nurse and he said, ‘You tested positive.'” A doctor later confirmed that Carranza was HIV positive.
While these three friends survived, many in the LGBTQ+ community did not.
A report by the Organization of American States says the life expectancy of transgender women in Latin America is under 35.
Activists have documented the murders of at least 231 LGBTQ+ people in Mexico over the past three years.
According to Human Rights Watch, at least 67 countries around the world have national laws that criminalize same-sex sexual relations between consenting adults, and in 12 countries consensual same-sex sexual activity in private can be punishable by death.
In Tijuana, the three migrants waited seven months to get an appointment through US Customs and Border Protection’s CBP One app, which is used to schedule immigrants and asylum seekers to appear at US ports of entry.
Their appointments were made on June 8, 2024, just four days after President Joe Biden announced new border restrictions.
They entered the border legally in Calexico, California, where Border Patrol agents recorded their entry and released them with a preliminary trial date of October 2024.
Overcoming obstacles to seek asylum
Carranza and his friends want asylum but cannot afford a lawyer, so they are currently seeking free legal services. They are currently trying to gather all the evidence of the abuse they suffered.
Under US law, persecution because of sexual orientation, gender identity or HIV status is grounds for asylum, explained Bridget Crawford, legal policy director for the Immigration Equality Association, which represents LGBTQ+ immigrants and asylum seekers and is considering whether to take on their case.
“Asylum seekers must prove they have sufficient evidence to fear persecution for a ‘protected ground’ – such as race, religion, nationality, political opinion or membership of a particular social group. LGBTQ status is widely recognised as meeting the definition of a ‘particular social group’,” Crawford said.
“Typical evidence that can help LGBTQ refugees prove their claim includes police or doctor’s reports detailing the assault or injuries, letters or declarations from partners or others who can credibly attest to the applicant’s LGBTQ status and the facts of their claim, membership of LGBTQ organizations, photographs or dating profiles, psychologist evaluations, and articles or reports documenting the situation of LGBTQ people in their country of origin,” Crawford said.
Crawford said it’s common for LGBTQ asylum seekers to face barriers when gathering evidence and documentation, such as police reports and medical records.
“Maybe it’s because they couldn’t go to the police. Maybe it’s because the police were abusive. Maybe they had to get away so quickly they weren’t able to gather that evidence,” Crawford said.
Carranza said he ran into police after being chased by men with machetes in Honduras.
“The police said that without evidence — videos, photos, witnesses — our word is worthless,” Carranza said. “In Honduras, the police and drug trafficking are in cahoots.”
The only official documentation they have is a complaint they filed with the help of a lawyer in the city of Villanueva, Honduras. They say there may be other conversations, images and videos stored on the phone that could help prove their case.
Crawford, who is not working with them directly, said Carranza and his friends will have to explain that they didn’t have access to a police report because the officers had fired them. “They’re going to need to get sworn statements, preferably from witnesses who can also testify, to corroborate what happened,” Crawford said.
“In theory, detailed, consistent and credible testimony alone would be enough to prove a claim if an applicant could explain to a judge why supporting documentary evidence was not available, but this is often extremely difficult, especially when applicants are not represented by a lawyer and are navigating complex immigration procedures in a language they do not understand,” Crawford said.
Michelle, Greta and Isaac are now living with friends in Trenton, New Jersey, with renewed hope that they will be safe in the United States and await their first court date.
Crawford said the first court appearance is usually a short hearing before a judge where the asylum seeker tells the judge whether they intend to apply for relief such as asylum. “This is not where the asylum seeker presents evidence regarding their asylum claim. That takes place later in a hearing called an ‘individual hearing,'” Crawford said.
Greta Mazariegos said she had “a lot to do” and plans: “I want to continue my studies and I want to work and cooperate with the country.”
“I feel protected here because in my country there is so much discrimination and I couldn’t be myself,” said Isaac Mazariegos.
“We feel liberated now,” Carranza said. “We feel happy and thrilled to be in this country.”
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