Appalachia's Unexpected Rebellion: Class Solidarity Takes On Trump's Deportation Regime
A chilly evening in mid-November saw about 135 people gather along a highway in Boone, North Carolina, a small Appalachian college town not known for leftist protests. They held signs reading “Nazis were just following orders too” and “Time to melt the ICE,” and chanted profane rebukes at Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents rumored to be in the area.
Operation Charlotte’s Web, an ongoing immigration enforcement surge across the Charlotte region, made sweeping arrests in and around Charlotte and into the state's rural mountain counties. But the numbers told a different story: over 370 people were arrested, only 44 of whom had any prior criminal record. The vast majority were ordinary undocumented residents.
The crackdown was billed as targeting the “worst of the worst” criminal aliens, but it underscores that the effort is less about public safety than meeting political quotas. Trump campaigned on conducting the largest deportation operation in U.S. history, vowing to round up 15 to 20 million people and pressuring ICE to triple its arrest rates.
However, the administration is facing widespread resistance to its policy of indiscriminate arrests and mass deportations, not as the exception but as the rule. In predominantly white, working-class communities, activists are implementing a broad early-warning network to track federal agents, mobilizing thousands of local volunteers, and patrolling neighborhoods to follow unmarked vehicles.
Residents in Boone have taken to the streets, using tactics borrowed from Chicago's immigrant rights movement, setting up rapid-response networks and legal support. Organizers in North Carolina are sharing resistance blueprints with communities in Louisiana and Mississippi ahead of "Swamp Sweep," the next phase of Trump's crackdown, slated to deploy 250 agents to the Gulf South.
This unexpected rebellion is not noise but a signal that America's political fault lines are shifting beneath our feet. The coming deportation raids were supposed to be a mop-up operation executed in the heart of "real America." Instead, they are turning into a slog, met with small-town rebellions.
The message to Washington is clear: if you thought Appalachia would applaud or simply acquiesce while you turn their hometowns into staging grounds for mass round-ups, bless your heart. This unexpected resistance suggests that class solidarity is beginning to trouble traditional partisan lines. The old playbook of stoking rural white fears about immigrants is losing its potency when those same immigrants have become neighbors, co-workers, or fellow parishioners.
As the enforcement regime trickles out into broader white America, it is encountering the same unruly spirit that has long defined its deepest hills, valleys, and backwoods. The Intercept will continue to cover this story, providing in-depth analysis and investigative reporting on the evolving landscape of resistance against Trump's deportation regime.
A chilly evening in mid-November saw about 135 people gather along a highway in Boone, North Carolina, a small Appalachian college town not known for leftist protests. They held signs reading “Nazis were just following orders too” and “Time to melt the ICE,” and chanted profane rebukes at Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents rumored to be in the area.
Operation Charlotte’s Web, an ongoing immigration enforcement surge across the Charlotte region, made sweeping arrests in and around Charlotte and into the state's rural mountain counties. But the numbers told a different story: over 370 people were arrested, only 44 of whom had any prior criminal record. The vast majority were ordinary undocumented residents.
The crackdown was billed as targeting the “worst of the worst” criminal aliens, but it underscores that the effort is less about public safety than meeting political quotas. Trump campaigned on conducting the largest deportation operation in U.S. history, vowing to round up 15 to 20 million people and pressuring ICE to triple its arrest rates.
However, the administration is facing widespread resistance to its policy of indiscriminate arrests and mass deportations, not as the exception but as the rule. In predominantly white, working-class communities, activists are implementing a broad early-warning network to track federal agents, mobilizing thousands of local volunteers, and patrolling neighborhoods to follow unmarked vehicles.
Residents in Boone have taken to the streets, using tactics borrowed from Chicago's immigrant rights movement, setting up rapid-response networks and legal support. Organizers in North Carolina are sharing resistance blueprints with communities in Louisiana and Mississippi ahead of "Swamp Sweep," the next phase of Trump's crackdown, slated to deploy 250 agents to the Gulf South.
This unexpected rebellion is not noise but a signal that America's political fault lines are shifting beneath our feet. The coming deportation raids were supposed to be a mop-up operation executed in the heart of "real America." Instead, they are turning into a slog, met with small-town rebellions.
The message to Washington is clear: if you thought Appalachia would applaud or simply acquiesce while you turn their hometowns into staging grounds for mass round-ups, bless your heart. This unexpected resistance suggests that class solidarity is beginning to trouble traditional partisan lines. The old playbook of stoking rural white fears about immigrants is losing its potency when those same immigrants have become neighbors, co-workers, or fellow parishioners.
As the enforcement regime trickles out into broader white America, it is encountering the same unruly spirit that has long defined its deepest hills, valleys, and backwoods. The Intercept will continue to cover this story, providing in-depth analysis and investigative reporting on the evolving landscape of resistance against Trump's deportation regime.