The Friday for Mia Perez began with the usual routine of packing lunch for her 9-year-old daughter and dropping her off at school. As she headed to a meeting at a downtown Springfield, Ohio church that morning, by 9:30 a.m., a sense of unease hung in the air. For her daughter’s sake, Mia tried to project normalcy, but the reality was far from it. Disturbing rumors, amplified on the national political stage, were spreading through their town: local immigrants were accused of stealing and eating pets. The meeting at the church was convened by local religious leaders desperate to counteract these inflammatory claims.
Mia’s already frayed nerves were pushed to the limit when her phone rang during the meeting. Bomb threats had been reported near the elementary school, and parents were urged to collect their children. This was the second consecutive day of such disruptions. “I spilled coffee all over myself when I got the call,” Mia recounted.
Rushing to the school, she retrieved her daughter, who this time had questions. Was there a school shooter, like the ones she saw on TV? “I tried to explain the difference between an active shooter and a bomb threat, but how do you explain that to a 9-year-old?” Mia wondered. Her daughter’s next question was even more unsettling: “Have we ever eaten a cat?”
Mia’s husband is Haitian, and Mia herself is Cuban, having spent much of her life in Haiti before moving to Springfield in 2017. As an immigration lawyer and interpreter, she assists newly arrived immigrants – predominantly Haitians – in settling into their new community. She reassured her daughter that they do not eat cats. Trying to lighten the mood, she joked that everything tasted like chicken to her anyway. But beneath the surface, Mia was deeply affected, having cried almost daily since the rumors began to circulate.
These events in Springfield unfolded shortly after Donald Trump, during a presidential debate, declared, “They’re eating the dogs, the people that came in, they’re eating the cats. They’re eating the pets of the people that live there, and this is what’s happening in our country, and it’s a shame.” These claims echoed similar sentiments voiced by J.D. Vance, Trump’s running mate and the Ohio senator representing Springfield in Congress.
The repercussions were swift and severe. White supremacist groups appeared in Springfield, distributing racist flyers and attempting to link general grievances to the non-white immigrant population. Vandalism increased, over 30 bomb threats were made, and a constant influx of outsiders arrived to harass the new residents and assert they didn’t belong.
Shortly after arriving in Springfield myself, I encountered a group of about 30 Proud Boys members, some accompanied by their young children, wearing custom yellow-and-black biker jackets bearing the group’s logo. One individual, who concealed his face with a bandana and declined to give his name, insisted their opposition to Haitians was not racist. “We want the government to prioritize Americans over immigrants,” he stated. “If you want to come to our country and assimilate, we’ve got plenty of space. But you’ve got to do it our way, adopt our values. You can’t bring your culture here.” When asked if she genuinely believed people were eating pets in Springfield, another member responded, “It’s possible they aren’t. It’s just a meme. It’s just for fun at this point.”
While the Proud Boys might have found it amusing, my weekend in Springfield revealed the immediate and disturbing consequences of campaign rhetoric taken to an extreme. The community, both long-term residents and newcomers, was already grappling with growing local divisions. Now, with the issue amplified nationally, they were uncertain of what to expect next.
Finding definitive proof of pet-eating in Springfield proved impossible. However, encountering residents who believed the rumors was surprisingly easy. On his porch near the railroad tracks, Ron, a nearly two-decade Springfield resident, sat flanked by Trump flags. His immediate neighbors are Haitian. “They stare at you,” he commented. “I don’t hate them. It’s just the way they came over here to get all this stuff.” He considered the pet rumors plausible.
Ron shared that he had worked at Walmart for his entire career until 2012. At 56, he retired and now relies on disability checks and food stamps. “They get more than I ever got,” he expressed, voicing resentment about government assistance provided to immigrants. He himself receives only $23 monthly in food stamps.
Ron, who is Black, rejected claims of racism or bigotry, attributing his views to demographic changes, though he remained unconvinced about the cat rumors’ falsity. He even proposed a theory that someone conspired to bring Haitians to replace him and his neighbors. “I see them getting all the houses,” he said, noting his own rent increase from $600 to $800.
Ron’s sentiments reflect those of some Springfield residents. Tensions in the city began rising almost a decade ago. Like many mid-sized Ohio cities, Springfield’s population experienced a significant decline following manufacturing job losses. In the mid-2010s, the city initiated a plan to promote itself as an affordable location to attract manufacturers and revitalize job opportunities. When several companies relocated to Springfield, they encountered a labor shortage. This, combined with a low cost of living, made Springfield attractive to immigrants. Word-of-mouth led to a substantial influx of Haitian immigrants, who, through a federal program, held temporary protected status in the U.S., making them eligible for Social Security numbers and work permits. Many arrived from Florida, already home to a large Haitian community, while others came directly from Haiti. Estimates suggest as many as 15,000 have arrived for work, bringing with them concerns about jobs, housing costs, local services, and infrastructure.
Many people I spoke with traced the heightened anger and resentment back to a tragic accident in August 2023. A Haitian driver drove into oncoming traffic, causing a school bus carrying 52 children to overturn. Aiden Clark, an 11-year-old boy, died, and numerous others were hospitalized. (The driver, Hermanio Joseph, claimed sun glare as the cause; police found no evidence of drugs or alcohol. He was convicted of involuntary manslaughter and sentenced to at least nine years in prison. Aiden Clark’s parents have publicly urged against using the tragedy to fuel anti-immigrant feelings.)
Following the accident, the subsequent City Commission meeting at City Hall, usually sparsely attended, was packed. Public comments at these meetings, intended for local legislation, budgets, and policies, became dominated by residents’ grievances directed at their new Haitian neighbors. Mia Perez, the immigration lawyer, was present and described it as a “brutal awakening” for herself and other immigrants. “I expected it to be bad, but I didn’t know it was going to be that bad.”
Non-immigrant residents took turns at the podium, labeling their Haitian neighbors “illegal” and spreading rumors about geese being stolen from parks. They portrayed Haitians as uneducated, comparing them to monkeys littering and damaging property, and blamed them for rising living costs. This continued for several meetings. Person after person, many recognizable to Mia, scapegoated Haitians for their daily struggles. “I felt attacked, violated, and dehumanized. Heartbroken,” Mia shared. One of the speakers was even a friend of her husband’s. When asked if they remained friends, Mia laughed, “No, he is not.”
My first meeting with Mia was at the St. Vincent de Paul Community Center. This center serves as a crucial resource for newcomers who haven’t yet learned English but are eager to work. Inside, Christian symbols and American and Haitian flags decorate the space. Toys and books are available for children. The center is primarily staffed by unpaid volunteers, including those managing the food pantry and medical clinic. The lively atmosphere inside creates a sense of a large, welcoming family living room.
Despite the warm atmosphere, changes were evident. To enter, one had to wait outside a locked door until a volunteer verified their identity. Previously unlocked, the door was now secured, opening only for familiar faces or appointments. Earlier that day, police had been called to review security footage showing three suspicious men seemingly surveilling the building. The center’s executive director offered cake but declined to comment officially, citing recent online doxxing concerns.
No one denied the genuine strains in Springfield. “We could use help with the driving issue,” Mia acknowledged, referencing concerns about dangerous, unlicensed driving. (That morning, she recounted seeing someone driving the wrong way on a one-way street. “People are looking down to see if that somebody is Black or a Haitian. Thankfully, it was a white person,” she joked.) Mia is involved in an initiative to create driving instruction materials in Creole to address this issue, and suggested the city could implement rules requiring a valid driver’s license to purchase vehicles.
Rising housing costs were a common concern. Many mentioned houses overcrowded with Haitians supposedly willing to pay more. However, Rachel, a Springfield rental property manager who asked to be identified only by her first name, pointed out that housing cost increases are a national issue, not unique to Springfield. She attributed local price hikes to increased property taxes, utility costs, and stagnant wages. “It’s not unique to Springfield,” she stated. “I moved here from the Southwest two years ago, and we were seeing the same trends there.” Her company conducts inspections every six months and has found no evidence of families overcrowding units. “We’re all feeling the strain, but blaming immigrants isn’t the solution.”
Haitian residents in Springfield, many connected to the community center, expressed feeling the tension since their arrival but also a sense of opportunity. Harold Herad moved to Springfield in 2022 after first visiting in 2019. “I came to see this beautiful place because a friend invited me. It was quiet, almost too quiet, but I saw potential.” He brought his family. As more Haitians arrived, his integration became easier. Seeing abandoned homes occupied and new businesses opening seemed to confirm their positive impact on the town.
Herad noticed some long-term residents were less welcoming. He was particularly disturbed by the rumors of pet theft and consumption. Yet, he remained optimistic that locals would eventually change their perceptions as they got to know their Haitian neighbors better. “We are a resilient nation,” he affirmed. “We’ve faced challenges before, and we’ll face this too. The truth will come out eventually.”
Another recent arrival, James Fleuri Jean, acknowledged the support system, like the community center, aided Haitian families in settling in Springfield, but also fueled misconceptions about their success. “People think the government is giving us these homes, but the truth is we work hard. We’re always working—overtime, extra shifts, anything we can do,” he emphasized. He particularly resented the bad-driver stereotype, as he works as a truck driver for Amazon and has a clean driving record. “People have accidents everywhere, but when we do, it’s used as an excuse to make us look bad,” he said. Haitians have become more cautious of neighbors but are determined not to be defined by the current negativity. “We’re not here to convince anyone. We just live our lives and hope that eventually, they’ll see who we really are.”
At KEKET Bongou Caribbean Restaurant, owner Keket expressed her dismay at the rumors, especially given her efforts to share Haitian cuisine in Ohio. “It hurts,” she said. “When people say things about our culture without any evidence, it feels like they’re attacking who we are.”
The restaurant, a community mainstay, has felt the impact of the growing tensions. “When I hear bad things, I get scared. I don’t know what’s going to happen next,” she confessed, echoing the simple hope of many: “I think, with time, things will be OK again.”
In Springfield, I anticipated encountering hostility as an outsider, especially given the news. Instead, driving into town in a rented Ford F-150, I received nods of acknowledgment. People were also surprisingly open to discussing the rumors, sometimes more than I expected.
Mark Pearson, a lifelong Springfield resident, recounted his own unsettling cat experience. “I found the back half of one on my porch once. Looked like it had been skinned. That freaked me out,” he admitted. However, he did not believe a Haitian immigrant was responsible. He suspected an animal or a malicious prank. He mentioned knowing several Haitian newcomers from work and having no issues, aside from the language barrier.
At a local Walmart, I spoke with a woman loading大量 cat food into her SUV. She joked that she had five cats and they were all accounted for. Nearby, a man standing by his pickup truck asserted that the influx of Haitians had improved Springfield. “They’re not eating no cats and dogs. That’s just being made up by racist people,” he declared.
A group of high school students at Snyder Park, where rumors claimed geese were now too afraid to gather, dismissed the pet-eating claims as “old people being racist.” (Plenty of geese were present on Saturday.)
The students, playing football, shared their mixed feelings about their town’s rapid changes. One described the language barrier in schools as challenging for both teachers and students. “Half of them don’t even know English,” he said. “It’s really hard to learn when they have to print everything in Creole and English. It wastes class time.” Another student countered, “It’s not their fault.”
“They’re opening shops and stores in places that have been closed for years,” one student pointed out. “They’re contributing, and people don’t realize that.”
Asked about bullying at school, one student replied, “These Haitians roll too deep. Nobody is going to mess with like 30 kids at once, and their cousins. We make fun of them, yeah, but they make fun of us too.”
“Once they’ve been here a generation and their kids grow up, it’ll get better. They’ll learn from us, just like our families did when they first came here,” another student offered. “We just need to help them out instead of criticizing them,” one concluded. “It’s all a learning process.”
On Saturday night, I attended a gathering for Springfield’s new Haitian radio station, coincidentally launching that weekend. Miguelito Jerome, behind DJ equipment, explained that New Diaspora Live is intended as a platform for all Springfield residents to combat misinformation and promote unity, not just a Haitian station. Programs would be in English, Creole, Spanish, and other languages. “The door will always be open,” he said, emphasizing inclusivity, even during live broadcasts. “We’re trying to create a space where everyone can feel heard and understood.”
Despite the seemingly unfortunate timing, Jerome viewed the launch positively. “There’s a lot of fear and confusion right now,” he said. “The Haitian community is very focused on work, but that sometimes leads to social isolation. We need more spaces where people from different backgrounds can come together, talk, and share experiences.”
“We have to save Springfield,” he declared. “We’re the builders, the workers, the ones pushing Springfield forward. If we can change things here, maybe we can change the whole country.”
Later that night, at Rose Goute Creole Restaurant, a white couple in the long line explained they were there to show support. “On the day that I heard that this community was being accused of those things, I was like, ‘This is freaking ridiculous.’ I was like, ‘We got to come up here and support the community,’” one said. A woman from Boston and a man from Texas had also made detours to visit Springfield and eat Creole food, all expressing their disgust at the rumors.
After an hour wait, at the counter, I ordered fried fish. The manager, looking exhausted, said the restaurant had never been busier. When asked how he felt about so many non-Haitian customers, he responded, “We feel supported. We never expected this.”
