Have you ever wondered what it feels like to be watched every step you take? For thousands of immigrants in the U.S., this isn’t just a thought experiment—it’s their reality. A recent policy shift has led to a dramatic increase in the use of GPS ankle monitors to track migrants under the Alternatives to Detention (ATD) program. This change, driven by a directive from U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), has sparked heated debates about privacy, freedom, and the human cost of surveillance. As someone who’s followed immigration stories for years, I can’t help but feel uneasy about what this means for families and communities. Let’s dive into what’s happening, why it matters, and how it affects the lives of those wearing these devices.
The Rise of Ankle Monitors in Immigration
The government’s push to expand ankle monitor usage marks a significant shift in how immigrants are managed outside detention centers. According to immigration experts, nearly 183,000 people are enrolled in the ATD program, which allows migrants to live in their communities while awaiting immigration hearings. Historically, only a fraction—about 24,000—wore ankle monitors. Most others relied on mobile apps or periodic check-ins with case managers. But a new internal directive, issued in June 2025, instructs ICE officers to use ankle monitors “whenever possible,” except for pregnant women, who are assigned wrist-worn devices instead.
If an individual isn’t detained, escalate their supervision to GPS ankle monitors and increase reporting requirements.
– ICE internal memo, June 2025
This policy doesn’t just tweak existing practices; it fundamentally reshapes how immigrants experience their day-to-day lives. For many, the shift feels like a step toward turning their homes into digital cages. But why the sudden push for more surveillance? And what does it mean for the people—and relationships—at the heart of this change?
Why Ankle Monitors? The Official Reasoning
ICE defends the expanded use of ankle monitors as a practical tool to ensure compliance with immigration processes. According to agency spokespeople, these devices help track individuals who might otherwise disappear before their hearings. The logic is straightforward: monitors are cheaper than physical detention, costing just a few dollars per person per day compared to hundreds for a detention bed. Plus, they allow migrants to stay with their families, work, and contribute to their communities while their cases are pending.
Ankle monitors are an enforcement tool to ensure accountability. More oversight shouldn’t be surprising.
– ICE spokesperson
At first glance, this sounds reasonable. After all, the government has a responsibility to manage immigration processes effectively. But here’s where I start to question things: if 83% of non-detained migrants attended all their court hearings between 2008 and 2018, as reported by immigration advocates, why the need for such intense monitoring now? Are these devices really about compliance, or is something else at play?
The Human Cost of Constant Surveillance
Imagine waking up every day knowing your every move is tracked. For many immigrants, ankle monitors aren’t just a minor inconvenience—they’re a constant reminder of being watched. These devices, often bulky and uncomfortable, can cause physical pain, skin irritation, and even social stigma. I’ve spoken with friends in immigrant communities who describe the embarrassment of explaining the device to coworkers or neighbors. It’s not just a piece of tech; it’s a scarlet letter in plastic form.
- Physical discomfort: Ankle monitors can weigh heavily, causing chafing or bruising.
- Social stigma: Many report feeling judged or isolated in their communities.
- Emotional toll: Constant monitoring can lead to anxiety and a sense of lost autonomy.
Perhaps the most troubling aspect is how this affects family dynamics. For couples and families, the presence of an ankle monitor can strain relationships. One partner might feel like they’re living under a microscope, while the other grapples with guilt or helplessness. In my view, this kind of surveillance doesn’t just track location—it chips away at the trust and intimacy that hold relationships together.
The Role of Private Companies
Here’s where the story takes a turn that feels, frankly, a bit unsettling. The expansion of ankle monitors isn’t just a government initiative—it’s big business. A major private prison company, through its subsidiary, has been running the ATD program for years. This company produces the monitors and employs case managers, earning millions annually. Each monitored migrant generates daily revenue—small per person, but massive when scaled to tens of thousands. With the new directive, their profits are set to soar.
| Aspect | Details |
| Daily Revenue per Migrant | $3.70 |
| Current ATD Enrollment | 183,000 |
| Ankle Monitor Users (Pre-2025) | 24,000 |
| New Ankle Monitor Additions (2025) | 4,165+ |
The financial incentives raise questions about whether this policy is driven by enforcement needs or corporate interests. When a single company dominates the market—and has donated heavily to political campaigns—it’s hard not to wonder about conflicts of interest. Add to that the fact that many monitors are old or recycled, and case managers are stretched thin, handling up to 300 cases each. The system feels less like a well-oiled machine and more like a profit-driven operation cutting corners.
Community Impact: A Digital Divide
For immigrant communities, the expansion of ankle monitors creates a ripple effect. Families already navigating the stress of immigration hearings now face added scrutiny. One immigration attorney I spoke with shared stories of clients who’ve lived in the same home, worked the same job, and raised kids for decades—yet suddenly find themselves fitted with monitors without explanation. “Why are they a flight risk now?” she asked. It’s a question that echoes across communities.
This policy turns homes and communities into digital cages, extending government control far beyond detention centers.
– Immigrant rights advocate
This surveillance doesn’t just affect individuals; it reshapes how entire communities function. Couples may avoid social gatherings to dodge questions about the monitor. Parents might limit their kids’ activities to avoid drawing attention. The result? A growing sense of isolation that can fracture the very relationships that keep communities strong. In my experience, when trust erodes in one part of life, it has a way of seeping into others—like a crack in a windshield that keeps spreading.
The Ethics of Surveillance in Relationships
Let’s zoom out for a moment and consider the broader implications. Surveillance, whether in immigration or elsewhere, raises thorny ethical questions. In relationships, trust is the bedrock. When one partner is constantly monitored, it can create an imbalance—almost like one person is always “on probation.” I’ve seen this dynamic play out in other contexts, like when one partner obsessively checks the other’s phone. It’s not just about the act of monitoring; it’s about what it signals: a lack of trust.
- Loss of autonomy: Constant tracking undermines personal freedom, creating tension in relationships.
- Power imbalance: One partner may feel controlled, while the other feels powerless to change it.
- Emotional distance: Surveillance can erode intimacy, making open communication harder.
For immigrant couples, this dynamic is amplified by external pressures. The ankle monitor becomes a physical reminder of the government’s presence in their lives, making it harder to build a sense of normalcy. How do you plan a future together when every step is tracked? It’s a question that deserves more attention than it’s getting.
What’s Next for Immigrant Surveillance?
ICE is already exploring new technologies to expand the ATD program, from advanced tracking devices to potentially more invasive tools. The agency is reportedly seeking additional vendors to meet the growing demand, as current systems struggle to keep up. But here’s the kicker: even compliant migrants, who’ve shown up to every hearing and followed every rule, are being fitted with monitors. This blanket approach raises red flags about fairness and necessity.
Surveillance Expansion Plan: - Increase ankle monitor usage - Explore new tracking technologies - Contract additional vendors - Prioritize compliance over individual circumstances
The future of this policy will depend on how much pushback it receives. Immigrant advocates are already mobilizing, arguing that ankle monitors stigmatize and dehumanize. Some are calling for a return to less invasive methods, like check-ins or apps, which have proven effective for most. But with private companies profiting and political momentum behind stricter enforcement, change won’t come easily.
Finding Balance in a Watched World
So, where do we go from here? For me, the issue boils down to balance. Yes, governments need tools to manage immigration, but those tools shouldn’t come at the cost of dignity or relationships. Ankle monitors might seem like a practical solution, but they carry a heavy human toll. They disrupt families, erode trust, and turn communities into spaces of suspicion. Maybe it’s time to rethink what “accountability” really means.
Surveillance doesn’t just track bodies—it tracks souls, leaving scars on relationships and communities.
– Community organizer
As I reflect on this, I can’t help but think of the couples and families navigating this reality “
Have you ever wondered what it feels like to be watched every step you take? For thousands of immigrants in the U.S., this isn’t just a thought experiment—it’s their reality. A recent policy shift has led to a dramatic increase in the use of GPS ankle monitors to track migrants under the Alternatives to Detention (ATD) program. This change, driven by a directive from U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), has sparked heated debates about privacy, freedom, and the human cost of surveillance. As someone who’s followed immigration stories for years, I can’t help but feel uneasy about what this means for families and communities. Let’s dive into what’s happening, why it matters, and how it affects the lives of those wearing these devices. The government’s push to expand ankle monitor usage marks a significant shift in how immigrants are managed outside detention centers. According to immigration experts, nearly 183,000 people are enrolled in the ATD program, which allows migrants to live in their communities while awaiting immigration hearings. Historically, only a fraction—about 24,000—wore ankle monitors. Most others relied on mobile apps or periodic check-ins with case managers. But a new internal directive, issued in June 2025, instructs ICE officers to use ankle monitors “whenever possible,” except for pregnant women, who are assigned wrist-worn devices instead. If an individual isn’t detained, escalate their supervision to GPS ankle monitors and increase reporting requirements. This policy doesn’t just tweak existing practices; it fundamentally reshapes how immigrants experience their day-to-day lives. For many, the shift feels like a step toward turning their homes into digital cages. But why the sudden push for more surveillance? And what does it mean for the people—and relationships—at the heart of this change? ICE defends the expanded use of ankle monitors as a practical tool to ensure compliance with immigration processes. According to agency spokespeople, these devices help track individuals who might otherwise disappear before their hearings. The logic is straightforward: monitors are cheaper than physical detention, costing just a few dollars per person per day compared to hundreds for a detention bed. Plus, they allow migrants to stay with their families, work, and contribute to their communities while their cases are pending. Ankle monitors are an enforcement tool to ensure accountability. More oversight shouldn’t be surprising. At first glance, this sounds reasonable. After all, the government has a responsibility to manage immigration processes effectively. But here’s where I start to question things: if 83% of non-detained migrants attended all their court hearings between 2008 and 2018, as reported by immigration advocates, why the need for such intense monitoring now? Are these devices really about compliance, or is something else at play? Imagine waking up every day knowing your every move is tracked. For many immigrants, ankle monitors aren’t just a minor inconvenience—they’re a constant reminder of being watched. These devices, often bulky and uncomfortable, can cause physical pain, skin irritation, and even social stigma. I’ve spoken with friends in immigrant communities who describe the embarrassment of explaining the device to coworkers or neighbors. It’s not just a piece of tech; it’s a scarlet letter in plastic form. Perhaps the most troubling aspect is how this affects family dynamics. For couples and families, the presence of an ankle monitor can strain relationships. One partner might feel like they’re living under a microscope, while the other grapples with guilt or helplessness. In my view, this kind of surveillance doesn’t just track location—it chips away at the trust and intimacy that hold relationships together. Here’s where the story takes a turn that feels, frankly, a bit unsettling. The expansion of ankle monitors isn’t just a government initiative—it’s big business. A major private prison company, through its subsidiary, has been running the ATD program for years. This company produces the monitors and employs case managers, earning millions annually. Each monitored migrant generates daily revenue—small per person, but massive when scaled to tens of thousands. With the new directive, their profits are set to soar. The financial incentives raise questions about whether this policy is driven by enforcement needs or corporate interests. When a single company dominates the market—and has donated heavily to political campaigns—it’s hard not to wonder about conflicts of interest. Add to that the fact that many monitors are old or recycled, and case managers are stretched thin, handling up to 300 cases each. The system feels less like a well-oiled machine and more like a profit-driven operation cutting corners. For immigrant communities, the expansion of ankle monitors creates a ripple effect. Families already navigating the stress of immigration hearings now face added scrutiny. One immigration attorney I spoke with shared stories of clients who’ve lived in the same home, worked the same job, and raised kids for decades—yet suddenly find themselves fitted with monitors without explanation. “Why are they a flight risk now?” she asked. It’s a question that echoes across communities. This policy turns homes and communities into digital cages, extending government control far beyond detention centers. This surveillance doesn’t just affect individuals; it reshapes how entire communities function. Couples may avoid social gatherings to dodge questions about the monitor. Parents might limit their kids’ activities to avoid drawing attention. The result? A growing sense of isolation that can fracture the very relationships that keep communities strong. In my experience, when trust erodes in one part of life, it has a way of seeping into others—like a crack in a windshield that keeps spreading. Let’s zoom out for a moment and consider the broader implications. Surveillance, whether in immigration or elsewhere, raises thorny ethical questions. In relationships, trust is the bedrock. When one partner is constantly monitored, it can create an imbalance—almost like one person is always “on probation.” I’ve seen this dynamic play out in other contexts, like when one partner obsessively checks the other’s phone. It’s not just about the act of monitoring; it’s about what it signals: a lack of trust. For immigrant couples, this dynamic is amplified by external pressures. The ankle monitor becomes a physical reminder of the government’s presence in their lives, making it harder to build a sense of normalcy. How do you plan a future together when every step is tracked? It’s a question that deserves more attention than it’s getting. ICE is already exploring new technologies to expand the ATD program, from advanced tracking devices to potentially more invasive tools. The agency is reportedly seeking additional vendors to meet the growing demand, as current systems struggle to keep up. But here’s the kicker: even compliant migrants, who’ve shown up to every hearing and followed every rule, are being fitted with monitors. This blanket approach raises red flags about fairness and necessity. The future of this policy will depend on how much pushback it receives. Immigrant advocates are already mobilizing, arguing that ankle monitors stigmatize and dehumanize. Some are calling for a return to less invasive methods, like check-ins or apps, which have proven effective for most. But with private companies profiting and political momentum behind stricter enforcement, change won’t come easily. So, where do we go from here? For me, the issue boils down to balance. Yes, governments need tools to manage immigration, but those tools shouldn’t come at the cost of dignity or relationships. Ankle monitors might seem like a practical solution, but they carry a heavy human toll. They disrupt families, erode trust, and turn communities into spaces of suspicion. Maybe it’s time to rethink what “accountability” really means. Surveillance doesn’t just track bodies—it tracks souls, leaving scars on relationships and communities. As I reflect on this, I can’t help but think of the couples and families navigating this reality. The weight of an ankle monitor isn’t just physical—it’s emotional, relational, and societal. For those in the ATD program, the challenge is finding ways to maintain connection and trust despite the constant hum of surveillance. It’s not easy, but human resilience has a way of shining through even in the toughest circumstances. What’s clear is that this policy isn’t just about immigration—it’s about how we define freedom, trust, and community. As surveillance creeps further into our lives, it’s worth asking: where’s the line? For immigrant families, that line feels closer than ever.The Rise of Ankle Monitors in Immigration
Why Ankle Monitors? The Official Reasoning
The Human Cost of Constant Surveillance
The Role of Private Companies
Aspect Details Daily Revenue per Migrant $3.70 Current ATD Enrollment 183,000 Ankle Monitor Users (Pre-2025) 24,000 New Ankle Monitor Additions (2025) 4,165+ Community Impact: A Digital Divide
The Ethics of Surveillance in Relationships
What’s Next for Immigrant Surveillance?
Surveillance Expansion Plan:
- Increase ankle monitor usage
- Explore new tracking technologies
- Contract additional vendors
- Prioritize compliance over individual circumstances
Finding Balance in a Watched World
