Executive SummaryDuring a post-election TV interview that aired mid-November 2016, then President-Elect Donald Trump claimed that there are millions of so-called "criminal aliens" living in the United States: "What we are going to do is get the people that are criminal and have criminal records, gang members, drug dealers, we have a lot of these people, probably two million, it could be even three million, we are getting them out of our country or we are going to incarcerate." This claim is a blatant misrepresentation of the facts. A recent report by the Migration Policy Institute suggests that just over 800,000 (or 7 percent) of the 11 million undocumented individuals in the United States have criminal records. 1 Of this population, 300,000 individuals are felony offenders and 390,000 are serious misdemeanor offenders -tallies which exclude more than 93 percent of the resident undocumented population (Rosenblum 2015, 22-24). Moreover, the Congressional Research Service found that 140,000 undocumented migrants -or slightly more than 1 percent of the undocumented population -are currently serving time in 1 These numbers are based on the assumption that "unauthorized immigrants and lawful noncitizens commit crimes at similar rates" (Rosenblum 2015, 22). However, there is research that provides good support that criminality among the undocumented is lower than for the foreign-born population overall (Rumbaut 2009;Ewing, Martínez, and Rumbaut 2015).

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Executive SummaryDuring a post-election TV interview that aired mid-November 2016, then President-Elect Donald Trump claimed that there are millions of so-called "criminal aliens" living in the United States: "What we are going to do is get the people that are criminal and have criminal records, gang members, drug dealers, we have a lot of these people, probably two million, it could be even three million, we are getting them out of our country or we are going to incarcerate." This claim is a blatant misrepresentation of the facts. A recent report by the Migration Policy Institute suggests that just over 800,000 (or 7 percent) of the 11 million undocumented individuals in the United States have criminal records.1 Of this population, 300,000 individuals are felony offenders and 390,000 are serious misdemeanor offenders -tallies which exclude more than 93 percent of the resident undocumented population (Rosenblum 2015, 22-24). Moreover, the Congressional Research Service found that 140,000 undocumented migrants -or slightly more than 1 percent of the undocumented population -are currently serving time in 1 These numbers are based on the assumption that "unauthorized immigrants and lawful noncitizens commit crimes at similar rates" (Rosenblum 2015, 22). However, there is research that provides good support that criminality among the undocumented is lower than for the foreign-born population overall (Rumbaut 2009;Ewing, Martínez, and Rumbaut 2015).

Immigration enforcement by sheriffs and police can be characterized as a proliferation of quasi‐events which never quite rise to the status of an event. This poses distinct challenges for feminist‐inspired scholarship on the state which seeks to document, ethnographically, how the state goes about its business on the ground. In this article we draw on our fieldwork experience in North Carolina and Georgia on sheriffs’ and police departments’ use of traffic enforcement and policing roadblocks to scrutinize drivers for their legal status, and ask how our ethnographic approach to the problem of state power inevitably stumbles in relation to the ordinariness of these practices. We conclude that feminist scholarship committed to an ethnography of the state could do much more to think through the potentially aporetic quality of that which is our common object of research—the state in practice.

In this article, we explore methodological difficulties related to proving racial profiling, specifically in the context of §287(g) and Secure Communities enforcement. How it is that critical immigration researchers understand racial profiling as the object of their research, and how might they go about substantiating racial profiling in the field? Can racial profiling be made a straightforward object of problematization and, if not, why? We are particularly interested in how racial profiling can be so self-evidently at the core of programs like §287(g) and Secure Communities and yet how racialized law enforcement decisions and tactics are so often inscrutable—and difficult to prove—in the context of routine police work. Building on original fieldwork findings and data on roadblocks by §287(g) and Secure Communities agencies in central North Carolina, we dissect the differences between racially discrepant police work and racial profiling, and argue that chasing the “gold standard” of racial profiling risks leaving racially discrepant policing on the table as an apparently unproblematic, and perhaps even defensible, outcome of policing. As such, we argue that critical scholars should leave aside the problem of proving racial profiling and instead refocus on the problem of racially discrepant policing.