An interview between Sara Louis-Ayo, organizer with Voice of the Experienced’s Baton Rouge chapter, and Court Holden, Digital Media Coordinator with Voice of the Experienced.
The first episode of “In Conversation”—our new storytelling series spotlighting deeper dialogue and lived experience—features a conversation between VOTE’s Court Holden and Sara Louis-Ayo, a Sudanese refugee, immigration advocate and organizer for VOTE Baton Rouge.
Sara shares her journey from fleeing political persecution in Sudan to resettling in Louisiana, and how displacement shaped her commitment to advocacy. This episode explores the deep connections between immigration and the criminal justice system, especially in Louisiana, where policies like 287(g) deputize local law enforcement as federal immigration agents.
Through personal stories and policy analysis, Sara and Court call for greater solidarity between Black and immigrant communities and emphasize the importance of collective advocacy for systemic change.
In Conversation
Court: This is Court Holden, digital media coordinator at Voice of the Experienced. I’ve been with VOTE for about four years now, helping to tell the stories of those who have been impacted by Louisiana’s cultural system. On one hand, most of us think of that solely dealing with Angola, East Baton Rouge Parish Jail, Louisiana Correctional Institute for Women, arrest, judiciary proceedings, and the human and civil rights of currently and formerly incarcerated people. But the other side of that is something that has become nearly impossible to ignore, especially in Louisiana, and that is immigration.
So today, I want to bring you a different story because immigration and the criminal justice system actually have deep implications for one another. Our Baton Rouge chapter is fortunate to have welcomed an amazing new organizer to our team, Sara Louis-Ayo. Today, Sara will share her powerful story as a refugee, her work in immigration advocacy, and how we can all become better allies to those bearing the burdens imposed by the current administration.
A Journey of Survival and Resistance
Court: So, Sara, thank you for sitting down with me today. Let’s just start with who you are and your journey prior to landing in Baton Rouge.
Sara: Thank you, Court. Thank you for having me. My name is Sara Louis-Ayo. I’m originally from South Sudan, but I became a refugee at the age of six or seven. My family fled through Sudan and then Egypt before resettling in the United States under the UNHCR refugee program. The UNHCR stands for the United Nation High Commissioner for Refugees.
My father was a political activist and a freedom fighter. Many would say he resisted the regime that was happening in Sudan and he didn’t like the idea of people dignity being stripped away from them people who looked like me who spoke our languages he believed that people deserve more than to be a second citizen in their own indigenous land and that belief of refusal to be silent made us a target. My siblings and I and my mom were no longer safe to be in Sudan and so that for that reason who became refugees in Sudan.
There is a line from a poet named Warsan [Shire], a Somali poet that says, “No one leaves home unless home is a mouth of a shark.” And we did not leave for opportunity. We left for for survival. But I’ve learned that survival, too, is a form of resistance. So, yes.
Landing in Lafayette: A New Kind of Displacement
Even being in a new country, whether you’re in East Africa or in the American South, the language of oppression is still the same. When it comes to control, criminalization, and silence and how that works to dehumanize people.
Court: Could you tell me a little bit about the state that you got assigned to? Of course we know that it is Louisiana, but could you tell us a little bit about that process and what it was like when you first got here?
Sara: Sure. So, we through the UNHCR, they pick a state for you and we were given Louisiana, not knowing what Louisiana looked like, or where it’s at. But more specifically, Lafayette, Louisiana. And that was a different experience within its own. I then learned that Baton Rouge is the capital and New Orleans was like a different it seemed like a different state within a different city, but it seemed like as a state within Louisiana, but yeah, Lafayette was different.
The language, of course, we didn’t speak any English. And the accent, the Cajun accent and the accent around Lafayette was different. And I remember when we landed my siblings and I were terrified. We were crying. We didn’t want to leave the plane. We’re like, “Mom, you lied to us. These people set us up. They’re trying to kill us.” Because how different it was. You know, imagine Lafayette in the early 2000’s or late 1999 and that was our experience, but we made the best of it. So, yeah.
Court: Yeah. Lafayette is on the come up now, but I couldn’t imagine being there at that time. I often joke that it’s a village.
Sara: You know, and my mom often-time, I remember her, like, when she heard them speak, like they spoke English, yeah. But with the accent and she was like ‘that’s just their tribal language’ because of how different it is.
Sara: But I also want to add like that early displacement it shaped the fire in me. You know, it taught me how the system of oppression operates. Even being in a new country, whether you’re in East Africa or in the American South, we, the language of oppression is still the same. And when it comes to control, criminalization, the silence and how that even work of dehumanizing people, but yes.
Understanding Immigration Status: Refugees, Immigrants, and Asylum Seekers
Court: So you refer to yourself as a refugee. And oftentimes immigrant, refugee, migrant, those terms get used interchangeably, but the status of them they are different, the definition. So could you explain a little bit about what the difference is for status amongst those three?
Sara: Yes. So as a refugee while my status isn’t exactly the same as other immigrants, What connects – it’s not exactly the same as a refugee, but what connects me to them is our shared experience of displacement of leaving behind a home leaving everything we know not out of choice, but out of necessity. You know like whether fleeing war, prosecution, or economic instability, there’s a common thread of loss and of resistance and longing to rebuild something with your family.
And so as a refugee we’re vetted it into the US. They see that, oh, they’re fleeing war. They cannot no longer stay in Sudan. So therefore, we have something set for them and they could come to the United States. And that refugee resettlement program started with UNHCR started in the 1950s. And so that gives me the privilege, a pathway to citizenship, a pathway to a green card, as opposed to someone who’s an immigrant, who I also believe you could still be an immigrant and still flee prosecution, fleeing out of fear of being in your country, but you’re not given the same opportunities.
And we see that people coming through the borders, as immigrants, wanting to be asylum seekers, right? And sometime even when you’re vetted into the country as an asylum seeker, you’re not given – there’s a process to be vetted in. You might be given the options to work like a working visa, but you’re not automatically given the protection. So as an immigrant sometimes you could flee your country or leave your country to come for educational purposes, rebuilding your home or just wanting to leave a country not necessarily for that but majority of the people that come here are asylum seekers who are immigrants who are needing help or just to rebuild a life over.
Court: Did the UN come up with these these definitions or do you know who? Because it feels to me very much like a white savior type of thing where you know with refugees it’s like oh we’re saving you from something so by all means come in here because we’ve deemed you worthy of being saved whereas with immigrants it’s like, well, you know we’re not just going to give you a free hand out. I feel like they’re viewed very differently.
Sara: And I think also as I mentioned in our conversations before, one is viewed as a humanitarian. We’re saving you. We’re helping these poor Africans or poor Europeans, you know, to come in. And that started, I think, right after World War II in the 1950s where how the UNHCR was created and and that is to protect and support refugees, you know. So, but what refugee? In what way? As long as they come the way that you have created, you know, the guidelines for them to come in or to be vetted in, then that’s seen a humanitarian way.
But then how about the refugee that had to travel 50 countries to just make it to your border to seek asylum? Because you’ve also created that. You could come come as you are and and we will save you, you know. And so yes, I think there’s a white savior complex that plays into what a refugee or what a migrant or asylum seeker is. But again, it’s who is it? The definition belong to the definer more so. So I think, yeah, to me it’s all politics, but also who gets to decide who is a refugee I think it’s up to them.
From Displacement to Advocacy
Court: Right. So you said what connects you to immigrants as opposed to being a refugee is the displacement aspect. So what inspired you to sort of get into work advocating for asylum seekers?
Sara: So yeah, I feel like I’ve always been in that space ever since I came to America. Even in Lafayette, you know, not speaking English, I would, you know, I’m drawn into the communities of people who spoke second languages, you know, and ways that we could help each other. And so I’ve always been in the advocacy space, but I didn’t have a name for it. Until I met with a guy named Dawda. He’s also an African refugee who came here and saw that things were different in Louisiana and that he wanted to create something that we could all thrive, refugees and immigrants. Because, yeah, we do know that our experiences, our lived experiences, and how we could shape the way we want to live here in Louisiana. And so he came up with the Louisiana Organization for Refugees and Immigrants. And that is, you know, just giving refugees and immigrant a place, a safe haven, where they could come and connect with other people, but also ways to give back to the state that they’re living in through policy advocacy and all that extra advocacy work.
And so I became heavily involved with them doing policy work. And then I fell in love doing detention work, you know. And so I think I also had a moment while doing policy work. I was stuck for a moment because I’m like in order for me to understand what’s happening with federal immigration, I need to understand how the criminal justice system works because I’m getting calls from a lot of people who look like me, brown and black people, who are stuck in detention, you know, but there’s no universal representation. So I had to navigate what does it mean for one to have right to counsel and then the other doesn’t but it’s under the same laws you know.

The 287G Program: Where Immigration and Criminal Justice Intersect
Court: I think that you coming to work at VOTE at the time that you did was somewhat serendipitous. I mean Louisiana has been in national news many times now for its treatment of immigrants and more infamously the central Louisiana Ice Processing Center in Jena, Louisiana. So, that facility is operated by the GEO group, which is a billion-dollar private prison company. It’s not uncommon for immigrants to be kept in local prisons.
Back in 2017, VOTE helped implement the Justice Reinvestment Initiative or JRI as it’s more popularly known, but that was a package that worked to reduce the prison population. It released thousands of incarcerated people, mostly black women and men. But as we saw that population decrease, people weren’t filling the jails, of course, and they were not getting as much money as they’d like. So, they began to fill it with immigrants.
There’s a program that I wasn’t aware of until you came, which is the 287G program. Can you tell us a little bit more about that program and its impact on Louisiana’s criminal justice system?
Sara: Yes. So yes, the timing of my arrival at VOTE did you know, it’s serendipitous as you would say especially given how deeply interconnected the immigration and criminal justice system is, as I mentioned, here in Louisiana. So the 287G program is a prime example of their intersectionality here.
287G is a federal policy that went across southern states mainly and it’s between local law enforcement that have an agreement with ICE and that is the Immigration and Custom Enforcement. Under this program local officers, majority sheriffs, act as federal agencies and so when they find someone who they deem as undocumented or does not belong here, then they have the right to take them into ICE custody. And we see that a lot with majority of the immigrant population whenever they they go into the the criminal justice system.
And you know, some of them have a way of being bailed out or bonded out, but because there’s a ICE hold and this is where the sheriffs or the local police officers like, “No, we can’t let you go because we we have a hold on you, you know, and a local officer is acting as a federal agent.” And so that’s the intersectionality that is at hand in Louisiana. And a program like this is very harmful. It’s targeting people of color, specifically black people.
A Personal Encounter with 287G
Sara: I myself was at a hand of 287G being played out. I was handcuffed, and put into the sheriff’s officer car. Because I simply froze. And it was a time where Sandra Bland’s death was happening. I was heavy on advocacy work, heavy on protesting. And it was that same week where I was just done doing advocacy work. I had to drop a friend off at the airport and I was handcuffed. And I remember just forgetting how to speak English because I was like, “Oh, I could be dead, you know, that it’s either death or jail for me, you know, and I was very terrified.”
And so immediately I began to notice the treatment of sheriff, ‘Well, oh, you don’t speak English. You don’t look like a Sara,’ you know, ‘are you sure your name is Sara?’ Without even giving me the the opportunity to be like, well, what are you, you know, stopping me for? I think he did ask for my ID or my license, but I was so terrified that I couldn’t even like reach or give it to him, you know, but he automatically like assumed that I was undocumented and then god forbid if you’re Black and undocumented in Louisiana.
And so, yeah, we see how 287G is just, it’s a very racist policy. But when I was with LORI, we had the opportunity to meet with the sheriff and, you know, shared our grievances and shared our stories and at times it’s so hard to sit here and to talk, to tell people about your humanity, you know, and you’re telling them that, you know, I’ve experienced this and this is very harmful to people who look like me or my community. You need to stop. Luckily, they did not renew the contract, but they hit us with so many anti-immigrant bills all last year, and I think that’s where I met all of you guys doing the advocacy work and being at the capital.
Court: Yeah. I know, it feels like a double hit, too, because with your name in particular, it’s like, okay, well, my name is Sara and you think that would make it easier here in the United States.
Sara: You can’t be Sara and Black and African. You know? What is colonialism? It happened, right?
Court: Yeah. No, that is very traumatic. I’m sorry that that happened to you.
Building Solidarity and Allyship
Court: The scary part too, I mean, with you telling that story, at least like for me as a Black woman, and I’m sure others feel this way, is not knowing how to be an ally really, or a supporter or advocate without putting my own life in jeopardy. It really feels like we’re battling a similar beast. You know, cops are as much a danger to people who look like us as they are to undocumented people. So I guess I want to know how can others who want to show up during this time do so? How can we be better allies and supporters in this moment?
Sara: Right. Yes, you’re absolutely right. We are battling a similar beast. The system targets undocumented people, targets Black people. as I mentioned, you know, if you’re Black and undocumented or Black or immigrant, you’re a target. And I was an example of that. And how we are very interconnected. You know, this is a system that doesn’t care for your well-being and would dehumanize you in any way possible.
And I think for specifically the Black community, you know, as a as a Black African, I could say this: for the Black communities. We need each other. We need each other into this fight standing together in solidarity. I’ve seen people easily who are dehumanized, who look like us, you know, Black women. And Black women are always at the forefront fighting regardless. And but here’s what I believe and that solidarity doesn’t always have to look like standing on the front line. And I know, you know, I could say this, Black women have always done it.
But it could be like choosing to know what is immigration and how that operates in your own state and creating that collective power of learning. Even you learning about 287G or being in rooms and wanting to know what are all these anti-immigrant bills that are being passed and standing up with immigrant right groups. So we could build this collective power and collective voice to stand for one another. I think that’s one way we could all come together.
I also want to mention that allyship doesn’t mean that you have to martyr yourself. It means recognizing that our liberation is tied and if we could protect each other, we could all move forward.
Court: Well, Sara, thank you again for talking with me. If you’d like to get involved with VOTE and the work that we do here, we have chapters in Baton Rouge, Lafayette, and New Orleans. You can visit us anytime or head to our website for more information at www.voiceoftheexperience.org.












































