 Besieged by murderous gangs, extortion, abuse, kidnappers, and death threats, hundreds of women from Guatemala, El Salvador, and Honduras risk everything to flee north with their children, seeking safety and refuge in the United States of America. Those who survived the perilous and often deadly journey through Mexico turned themselves in at the U.S. border, asking for asylum, and are handed over to Immigration and Customs Enforcement, or ICE. In the past, mothers and children whose stories seemed credible were quickly released on their word or a token bond to live with family or friends in the U.S. while waiting a court hearing. But in 2014, after 65,000 unaccompanied Central American children spilled across the border, the U.S. government adopted a new policy to deter more refugees by holding mothers and children in private prisons in South Texas on the argument that they are a threat to national security. ICE officials declined to be interviewed for this story. Here, in their own words, is what happened to three Central American mothers after they crossed the border into the U.S. with their children. Dianera left Guatemala on January 6th with her four-year-old daughter and 12 and 16-year-old sons. When the family turned themselves in to Immigration at the border, they were taken to the infamously cold-holding facility, the ICE box, then put in a cage in a place known as the Dog Pound before being transferred to the private prison facility in Carnes, Texas, with hundreds of other Central American mothers and children. The judge denied other women asylum here in the U.S. and the saddest part for me was to think that I would suffer the same fate. If I was sent back to Guatemala, I knew we would be killed. She saw many mothers who had been in Carnes for many months without being released on bond. She was sad to think that would happen to her as well, so she wrote her name down to join the hunger strike. Going on the hunger strike was a way for us to pressure the authorities and to let them know that we exist. But after she signed on to the strike, Yenera said the private prison guards told her they had determined her case for asylum was credible and that she would be released as soon as she could pay a bond of $7,500. I started crying when I learned that I was soon to be released. I had no way of paying the bond, and this is what also makes me sad to think of other mothers who have to pay even larger sums. But the guards warned me that if I joined the strike, my bond would be revoked and I would be sent back immediately. Then two months and three days after she arrived and two days after the hunger strike ended, guards knocked on her door and said, bring your children, you are going to be released. To keep us imprisoned with our children is basically saying that our children are criminals and that is not the case. Our children are not criminals to be locked up like that. It is unfair to have our freedom taken away for so long. Those who are affected the most are the children. As a mother, I can handle this pain, but my children, they shouldn't. We've not committed any crime, but to think that we could ask for help. To escape abuse, violence and threats. I ask that you have compassion and see how much we've suffered. We are not criminals. Ana and her 14-year-old son made the dangerous journey from El Salvador up through Mexico, and on October 6, 2014, walked across the International Bridge from Reyonosa, Tamolipas, into the U.S. Port of Entry in Hidalgo, where they immediately turned themselves in as asylum seekers. We came here to escape extortions and death threats, because in El Salvador, 10 to 14-year-olds are recruited to be part of the gangs. Two days after arriving, we were sent to Carnes, Texas. They told me we would stay there for two weeks, but this was a lie. They too landed in the Carnes' private prison, where Ana had to pass the credible fear test to see if she was eligible to seek asylum. We had to undergo a process to determine whether the officers believed our story. On the fourth day, I passed the credibility test. But there were hundreds of mothers and children in Carnes, and not enough lawyers to go around. So she had to represent herself in front of an immigration judge who was many miles away in San Antonio. From the beginning, I felt the day stretch for hours. We had to stand in line to be counted very early in the morning at 7 a.m. The children left for school at 9 until 4 p.m. We had to be counted again at that time and one last time at 8 p.m. Each time they were counted, it took 30 minutes. There were four hallways, each with more than 100 mothers and children, standing in line with their ID cards as they were counted by private prison guards. In April, after enduring six months in the private prison, Ana too joined the hunger strike. I was part of the first hunger strike. We were 78 women. When the officers called us, they told us that we were incapable of taking care of our children because we went on strike. If we joined the strike, they would take away our children. After seven days of hunger strike, Ana was given a bond of $7,500. After seven days, they gave bonds to four of us. We were chosen to be released. And some of the women were released after paying the bond. But Ana did not have $7,500 to pay her bond. Two weeks later, 22 mothers went on another hunger strike that lasted for seven days until April 20th. Then two days later, they got a call telling them they would be freed on their word without having to pay a bond. The officer told us that the reason we were being let go was so that we wouldn't contaminate the new ones. The guards didn't want the new mothers to hear from the troublemakers about hunger strikes and protests by those who had been imprisoned with their children for months. The day before, 35 new mothers had arrived and 35 more the next day. It makes me very unhappy to see so many mothers who were fleeing violence and came here to seek protection. We haven't committed any crime to be locked up for so long. We are not criminals. We are just mothers who want to be with our children and to protect them. We don't want them to be killed. Maria Rosa came from Honduras with her 10-year-old son and spent six months in carns before being released on $7,500 bond after the second hunger strike ended April 20th. The situation in Honduras is very difficult. There's a lot of domestic violence and families who live in fear because they have been threatened. They don't have anywhere to go. The women suffer the most due to domestic violence and they can't escape their situation because they lack the money to run away or worse they have nowhere to go. Unfortunately, those of us who came to this country in hopes of a better life have asked for help but have been thrown in jail instead. I was imprisoned for six months. I got very sick in that place just like many other women who've gotten very sick from being held eight to nine months at a time. Women have taken their first steps in that place, have had birthdays in that place. There's a piece of paper on the wall with their birthdays and we were told we would be able to celebrate but that was a lie. There are even those who have become suicidal saying that they want to kill themselves instead of being locked up like this. It's not that they are mentally unstable. The psychologist said that they just want freedom. That's why the hunger strike was put on from desperate mothers who are willing to do anything for their children. Like every brave woman who is being held there, I joined the hunger strike. It lasted ten days. The officers threatened to separate us from our children if we kept doing that. Besides the immeasurable suffering for the already traumatized mothers and children, there is the cost to taxpayers. The GEO group told shareholders it expects to get $15 million a year from ICE to operate the private prison in Carnes. That's $40,000 a day. After an expansion later in 2015, the taxpayer tab will go up to $94,794 per day. First ask yourself whether it is fair, whether you would want your children to be taken away for calling out injustice. Our children are not criminals and neither are the mothers.