HALLANDALE BEACH – Carmen “Jackie” Jaqueline Gimenez, a Venezuelan living in Hallandale Beach, Fla., was working for the Venezuelan Ministry of Finance across the street from el Palacio de Miraflores in 2002 when she realized things would never be the same.
On April 11, came “El Golpe,” or a failed coup against President Hugo Chávez. Gimenez shares that this was the moment she realized Democracy was breaking down in Venezuela.
“Sitting by the window, I saw that those who were my Venezuelan siblings were arming themselves, taking to the streets to carry rocks, trucks filled with guns, long and short, and knives,” said Gimenez. “The Minister of Finance told us that nothing was going on, but at that point the bombs outside weren’t letting us breathe properly.”
Carmen “Jackie” Jaqueline Gimenez
This incident would solidify Hugo Chavez’s power, setting the stage for the authoritarian regime that would rule the country for more than 20 years.
That was, until Jan. 3, when the United States captured Chavez’s incumbent, Nicholas Maduro, who faces federal narco-terrorism, cocaine-importation conspiracy, and weapons offenses charges.
Maduro’s Capture:
Gimenez, who is now a human rights activist and author of “Asylum Tales: FROM SUFFERING TO APPROVAL,” feels a sense of joy, a feeling that a little over 50% of Venezuelans in the U.S. support the president’s capture, according to a poll by The Economist, are also experiencing.
But her support for this decision is largely rooted in her strong conservative politics, which have deepened through the experiences she faced in Venezuela.
This is a common trend among many Latinos from countries with authoritarian governments, predominantly those from Cuba and Venezuela.
South Florida’s proximity to Cuba’s northernmost border allows a vibrant Cuban community to thrive, with more than 40% of Cubans living in the U.S. calling Florida home, according to a 2025 study by the Pew Research Center.
In the 2024 presidential election, 68% of Cubans living in Miami-Dade County voted for Trump. In Doral, which is home to ‘Little Venezuela,’ Trump won by more than 60% of the vote.
Gimenez’s Story:
Gimenez, who fled Venezuela in 2008, resides in Hallandale Beach, a city that is about a 30-minute drive from Doral, where about 40% of residents identify as of Venezuelan origin, according to city reports from 2025.
Gimenez arrived in the U.S. in 2008 after an arrest warrant was issued for impersonating ALBA-TCP officials. It is unclear whether this is related to the similarity in names between Bolivarian Alliance for the Peoples of Our America – Peoples’ Trade Treaty (ALBA-TCP) and ALBA-NGO. ALBA‑TCP is a regional alliance founded in 2004 by Hugo Chávez and Fidel Castro to promote political, economic, and social integration among Latin American and Caribbean nations, emphasizing socialist cooperation and regional independence from U.S. influence. Information about ALBA-NGO is scarce on the internet; however, official documents from the U.S. Copyright Public Records system indicate that the organization was created in 2004 and approved by the Copyright Office in June 2006. Another record shows the organization listed under the NGO Branch of the United Nations’ Department of Economic and Social Affairs.
Although Gimenez didn’t originally want to continue her work in politics, after facing sexual harassment at her valet job at Impark in Miami Beach, she became more closely involved in Broward County politics and her local Venezuelan community, only after attending St. Thomas College of Law to receive her Master’s of Laws in Intercultural Human Rights.
In 2012, Gimenez founded USA Refugees and Immigrants, a nonprofit organization dedicated to providing free assistance to Venezuelans seeking asylum or Temporary Protected Status in the U.S.
However, on April 7, U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services announced the end of the TPS program for Venezuelans living in the U.S. Gimenez explains that although the end of the program proved to be a challenge for many of the families she works with, it is a proper consequence for what she calls an abuse of the system.
“Temporary Protection Status is temporary,” said Gimenez. “Many of the time we tell people through my organization that this is temporary, to look for other opportunities, to continue their citizenship process — but they think their status will remain the same forever.”
Hallandale Beach Mayoral Election:
In 2020, Gimenez sought to become mayor of Hallandale Beach, Fla., but after receiving only 19.97% of the vote in the November 3, 2020, election, she didn’t react with defeat but with hope.
“I feel like I owe this country for saving my life, so I want to expand this state, I want to build it up, to raise the quality of life for the people here,” said Gimenez. “I feel that the obstacles I have gone through thus far and what I’ve been given have given me more strength to keep going.”
Throughout the months leading up to the election, Gimenez received accusations from around the Hallandale Beach community for being a “chavista,” or a supporter of the ideals of Venezuela’s former president, Hugo Chávez.
A journalist at the WLRN, South Florida’s public radio and television service, covered the accusations Gimenez faced throughout her candidacy.
His coverage uncovered accusations across social media accusing Gimenez of being an alleged ally of the Chavez regime, and claimed that she was involved with ALBA, or the Bolivarian Alliance for the Peoples of Our America.
In Venezuela, Gimenez served as an activist and president of the Integration Model Advancing Área de Libre Comercio de las Américas (ALBA-NGO), a non-governmental organization founded in protest of the political policies pushed by Chávez and his government. She founded the organization alongside Carlos Arnaudez, a
Although the organization dissolved after its 2004 inception, many previous outlets have confused it with the Maduro-led effort, the ALBA-TCP. The organization Gimenez founded, she claims, was independent of ALBA-TCP.
However, nine months after the story’s release, Gimenez reached out to clarify the information in the story, having previously provided no initial comment. Information regarding her association as a “chavista,” relationship to former alleged classmates, and her association with ALBA-TCP was clarified.
For Gimenez, being called a Chavista felt like an attack on her work within the Venezuelan effort to build ALBA-NGO and against the Chavez regime.
“What they confuse is that they think I am a chavista since I founded ALBA. But no, they are wrong,” said Gimenez. “I created my ALBA, and they created a project very different from mine.”
Venezuelan Politics:
Experiencing democracy in the U.S. was a complete change for Gimenez. She explains that her experiences in Venezuela are incomparable to those she has faced in the U.S. She doesn’t think she would be able to speak up as openly in Venezuela as she does in the U.S.
“There are failures [in the U.S.], there is no doubt, but the comparison, without a doubt, cannot be made,” said Gimenez. “There is absolutely no comparison to be made between democracy and true freedom [to Venezuela].”
After the capture of Maduro on Jan. 3, Gimenez sees the intersection between Venezuelan and American politics as imperative for the large Venezuelan community in South Florida.
“Venezuelan-Americans are who are going to rebuild Venezuela because nobody there is ready for that yet,” said Gimenez.
Editor’s Note: Quotes from Gimenez have been translated into English for clarification purposes.
Politics Is More Than a Vote, It’s a Way of Life: Carmen Gimenez’s Journey From Venezuela to America was first published by the Latino News Network and republished with permission.
Gabriela Quintero is a High School senior at Florida Atlantic University High School and will be attending Barnard College at Columbia University in the fall to pursue her B.A. in Political Science and English. Interested in politics, migration, policy, and culture, she hopes to pursue a career in political and cultural journalism.
Demonstrators rally outside the U.S. Supreme Court as justices hear oral arguments on whether President Donald Trump can deny citizenship to children born to parents who are in the United States illegally or temporarily, on Capitol Hill, in Washington, Wednesday, April 1, 2026. (AP Photo/Mariam Zuhaib)
Luz Angela Nuñez with her daughter Aisha Quershi Nuñez at their home in College Point, Queens. Photo: Mia Anzalone for Documented.
Kimberly Alvarez, 25, with her daughter Evangeline and her husband John Alvarez in Medellin, Colombia. Photo courtesy of Kimberly Alvarez.Alvarez arrived in New York City in February 2024 with her husband John Alvarez as asylum seekers from Venezuela. In April 2025, Alvarez found out she was pregnant with her first child, a baby girl. Her first reaction, she said, was fear.“How am I going to keep her alive?” she said. “That’s what I was thinking. ‘How am I going to be able to take care of her?’”At the beginning of Alvarez’s pregnancy, she said she was aware of the immigration enforcement occurring around the country, but vowed not to let it deter her from showing up to her doctor’s appointments.“When you went out, you were always on alert because you didn’t know if [ICE] might be around. I never saw anything suspicious,” Alvarez said. “But of course, you feel scared.”In October, when Alvarez was six months pregnant, her husband was detained by ICE agents at 26 Federal Plaza. When the immediate shock wore off, she obsessively checked the Online Detainee Locator System to find out where her husband went. A day later, she discovered that he was being kept at Delaney Hall detention center in New Jersey. Alvarez quickly set up an account to pay for phone calls, and every two days, she would pay about $10 for a one-hour call, updating her husband about the baby, her appointments and how she was doing.“Crying was the only way for me to release the tension,” said Alvarez, who worried that her lack of sleep and bad diet were impacting her baby. “Crying was the only way for me to release the tension.”—Kimberly AlvarezThat tension built up day by day, week by week following her husband’s arrest. Alvarez had stopped her work as a cleaner in the neighborhood’s synagogues two weeks before her husband’s detention because of her pregnancy. The plan, she said, was to rely solely on his income as a maintenance worker for “the food, the rent, everything.” Left with few choices, Kimberley had to rely on her mother’s income as a cleaner. The older woman had moved to New York from North Carolina to assist with Alvarez’s pregnancy. “I feel like I’m supposed to help my mom, not the other way around,” Alvarez said. “I felt powerless because I couldn’t do anything.”On Dec. 9, Alvarez gave birth to a daughter, Evangeline. While her baby was healthy, Alvarez’s anxieties did not go away. While she returned to cleaning synagogues a few months after Evangeline’s birth to help make ends meet, Alvarez and her daughter rarely left home. Alvarez said she felt paralyzed, getting frequent alerts from a neighborhood WhatsApp group when ICE was spotted nearby. One day, she said, ICE arrested her friend’s husband in Sunset Park, in an area where she would sometimes take Evangeline for walks.“I’m so afraid that I’ll go out and run into one of them and that they’ll take her away from me,” Alvarez said. “That’s my biggest fear, that someone will take her away from me and I won’t know where my daughter is.”In March, her husband decided to voluntarily remove himself from the United States and move back to Colombia, where he is originally from. It was a family decision, but it was not a happy one — hiring immigration lawyers was too expensive, Alvarez said, adding that staying in the U.S. felt too uncertain. 