By David Hood-Nuño, Maria Tsvetkova, Bianca Flowers and Kristina Cooke
MIAMI, July 1 (Reuters) - Uthy spent seven years in medical school training to become a doctor in Haiti. On the cusp of graduation, she fled the country three years ago to the U.S. with her husband, young child and a dream to return when it was safe.
Uthy, who holds Temporary Protected Status, now lives in fear that she or her family could be detained and deported at any time after the U.S. Supreme Court ruled last Thursday that the Trump
administration could end TPS for Haitians and Syrians.
TPS provides deportation relief and work permits to people already in the U.S. if their home countries face natural disasters, armed conflict or other extraordinary conditions.
The Supreme Court's decision could strip hundreds of thousands of people like Uthy of work authorization and protection from deportation.
“I live in pain every single day,” said Uthy, 32, who now lives in Sunrise, Florida, about 30 miles outside Miami, and asked that her last name be withheld for fear of retribution.
The decision sent fear through Haitian communities in places like South Florida and New York, where TPS holders have spent years building lives on an uncertain legal foundation — raising families, sustaining churches, opening businesses and filling critical jobs in areas like healthcare, hospitality, construction and caregiving.
Haitian Americans make up a small share of the U.S. population but are deeply rooted in Florida, New York, Massachusetts and New Jersey, with some of the country's largest Haitian communities in the Miami, New York City and Boston areas. Advocates say the decision could create ripple effects well beyond those directly at risk of deportation.
The ruling comes after years of heightened tensions over U.S. President Donald Trump's rhetoric and immigration policies, including criticism that he has used racist language toward immigrants of color. During their 2024 election campaign, both Trump and now-Vice President JD Vance promoted false claims that Haitian migrants in Ohio were eating pets.
As recently as December, Trump referred to Somali immigrants as "garbage."
Even as Trump’s strict immigration enforcement agenda remains unpopular, according to Reuters/Ipsos polling, the court’s decision allowing his administration to end TPS likely means they will be targeted for detention and deportation.
“If you no longer have status in this country, then you're supposed to be deported,” Stephen Miller, White House deputy chief of staff for policy and homeland security adviser, said to reporters last week.
SEEKING SUPPORT
In the hours and days after the court’s decision, Haitians began seeking support from churches, relatives and their workplaces.
“We’re going to have to give them shelter, and we’re going to have to give them a place to stay and feed them because they won’t be able to work,” said Jean Marcellin, a Haitian American who owns restaurants across New York. “Most likely they’re going to rely on family members and community help through churches.”
One such church is Haitian Emmanuel Baptist Church in the Little Haiti neighborhood north of downtown Miami.
Ronald Eugene, 61, serves as assistant pastor of the church that offers services in English and Haitian Creole. His sermon on Sunday centered around Psalm 23, a passage he used to encourage the congregation to keep peace.
Eugene said in an interview following the service that the community and church will fill the voids left by government.
“This is when we, as a church, as a body, sometimes might need to step up helping,” he said. “Because they won't have that support.”
Reverend Daniel Ulysse, a Haitian-born Baptist minister and chair of the Haitian American Republican Caucus, said that 10% to 15% of the 60,000 Haitians in parishes across Pennsylvania, Maryland, New York, New Jersey and Connecticut are TPS holders. Ulysse met recently with elected officials in Washington, D.C., and hopes the decision will be reversed.
“Many Haitians voted for this Republican administration. Many people supported it. They were expecting better,” he said.
LEGAL SCRAMBLE
Immigration attorneys’ phone lines are being flooded with calls about what to do in light of the decision, with many Haitians seeking alternatives like asylum or work permits.
Congress created the TPS program in 1990 after a spike in migrants fleeing El Salvador's civil war. The U.S. Homeland Security secretary can designate a country for TPS in six- to 18-month increments, allowing eligible nationals already in the U.S. to apply.
Though temporary, many designations have been renewed for decades. And since TPS does not provide a path to citizenship, some recipients have been in temporary status for years. Not all TPS holders would be immediately deportable if their status ends, as some have pending asylum or other claims that may allow them to stay, for now.
Allen Orr, a Washington-based immigration attorney, said his office is helping clients assess legal alternatives, including asylum, while warning that immigration courts have become difficult terrain for migrants seeking protection.
"For Haitians who've been in the country sometimes many, many years, it's difficult to provide the documentation to show you have a newfound fear to return back home," he said.
Orr said clients also fear they may be sent to countries where they have no ties if they cannot be deported directly to Haiti because of dangerous conditions there.
"The concept of being deported to a place that might not speak your language and which you have no connection to, after you've been somewhere in some cases five-plus years, is terrifying," Orr said.
Advocates like North Miami City Clerk Vanessa Joseph, also an immigration attorney and Haitian American, point to a sliver of hope in a bill before the U.S. Senate that would extend TPS protections to Haitians by law.
While the future of the bill and a separate House-passed measure in April remain uncertain, fear — and resilience — remain mainstay emotions among Haitian communities.
Farah Larrieux, 47, lives by herself in Miramar, Florida, about 30 minutes outside Miami and holds TPS. As owner and founder of THÉLAR Management Group, a communications company that promotes Haitian and Caribbean small businesses, her walls are adorned with awards from an array of cities across South Florida.
In the run-up to the court’s decision, Larrieux braced for what she called an expected opinion, on the eve of the country’s 250th birthday.
“The United States is still an inspiration for many countries,” she said. “And it is a shame that as we are celebrating the 250th anniversary of the country, this country is losing its values.”
(Reporting by David Hood-Nuño in Miami, Maria Tsvetkova in New York, Bianca Flowers in Chicago, Kristina Cooke in San Francisco and Layli Faroudi in Paris; Editing by Kat Stafford and Mark Porter)
