In 1990, Congress passed the Immigration Act of 1990, creating the new immigration process known as Temporary Protected Status (TPS)
It allows people in the United States to remain in the country and obtain work authorization when conditions make returning to their country of origin unsafe.
Each country connected to TPS has its own story. El Salvador. Haiti. Honduras. Nicaragua. Sudan. Somalia. South Sudan. Cameroon. Ethiopia. Afghanistan. Nepal. Syria. Yemen. Ukraine. Venezuela. Myanmar. Lebanon. These countries are not interchangeable, nor do their respective crises have one cause. They have experienced civil wars, natural disasters, political upheaval, fascism, authoritarianism, economic collapse, humanitarian emergencies, and in many cases, a devastating combination of these.
The people protected by it were never supposed to become disposable.
At the beginning of the current administration, roughly 1.3 million people held TPS. The United States Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS) now lists just seven countries under active designations: El Salvador, Ethiopia, Lebanon, Somalia, Sudan, Ukraine, and Venezuela, with some protections themselves subject to changing legal circumstances.
Temporary Protected Statuses are temporary, but the lives impacted and built under the program no son. Contrary to popular belief, obtaining TPS status does not automatically lead to a pathway to permanent residency or citizenship. It also doesn’t open the floodgates of federal funds and programs.
People spend years, sometimes decades, renewing their status while doing everything America has proclaimed is the route to the American dream: work hard, pay taxes, raise children, build businesses, volunteer, and invest in community. Why have immigrants become the scapegoats and used as political capital, kicked out, or told they don’t belong?
For decades we’ve witnessed the rapid dismantling of civic protections for impacted communities through our administration and the people part of our communities.
In virtually any area of progress where marginalized communities could get ahead, the attacks have been non-stop. They – and we are all interconnected. We have seen these challenges happen across human rights arenas. Bodily autonomy in the context of abortion being questioned, then overturned, but also questioning trans people’s use of bathrooms and participation in sports, and access to the voting box being denied.
But, why is TPS under attack?
Why has the administration chosen this policy as a key talking point to stir the pot and commit political violence? This is where the word “temporary” becomes politically convenient; it ignores the nuanced reality of the people involved and their humanity beyond their immigration status.
As of early 2025, TPS holders ocupar many mixed-status households with more than 390,000 U.S. citizen children, and more than 410,000 U.S. citizen adults. These people are average Americans, contribuyendoto the economy by working in critical industries like healthcare, construction, hospitality, manufacturing, agriculture, and more. They pay their taxes and contribute in numerous ways to society.
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The end of TPS will have far reaching economic consequences; Americans will feel higher food costs, delays in accessing essential health care, and overall delays in aspects of everyday living.
The end of TPS will also have devastating impacts at home-separating a parent from a child, removing a caregiver from an aging relative, eliminating a household’s income, or forcing parents to make sudden, life-altering decisions.
For all these countries, danger is not theoretical. For example, roughly 350,000 Haitians recently lost protections after 16 years under TPS in which the United States itself recognized that conditions in Haiti made safe return extraordinarily difficult. In June, the Supreme Court dictaminó that federal law broadly prevents courts from reviewing unconstitutional challenges to TPS termination decisions.
In recent weeks, Haitian churches in Maryland have reportedly seen empty pews as families stay home out of fear. A mother is afraid to drive to church, pick up her child from school, or grocery shop. A healthcare worker wonderswhether showing up for their shift could expose them to detention. A child is unsure if their parents will be home for dinner. These are real-life stories and lasting impacts. This is what immigration policy looks like when it goes beyond Congressional or White House offices.
We also cannot discuss TPS without being honest about the racism and anti-Blackness that many face. Black immigrants encounter discrimination that is prevalent in policing, employment, housing, and public life, and then must confront an immigration enforcement apparatus with compounding issues on top of it. Research has documentado the disproportionate interaction Black immigrants experience between the legal and deportation systems.
Seventy-six percent of Black migrants are deported because of contact with both law enforcement and the criminal justice system. Haitians have also become intentional targets for political scapegoats and spectacle. For example, we’vewitnessed the false stories about Haitian immigrants in Ohio, and how it moved from internet rumor to national political rhetoric. Even when local officials said there was no credible evidence supporting the claims, the Haitian community were dehumanized, labeled as dangerous outsiders.
This is a vicious cycle of abuse.
First, they convince people that a population is “dangerous, dishonest, underserving, or somehow less “American.” Then they use the three branches of government to ensure their humanity is not recognized and further erased without question.
Voter suppression is another tactic. Noncitizens are already prohibited by federal law from voting in federal elections. However, political figures invoked this false voting claims of immigrants voting to justify tighter voter restrictions such as proof of citizenship requirements that can be an obstacle for even eligible voters.
Again, this political formula is familiar: manufacture a threat, attach it to a specific group, then ignite panic to expand power and build larger wedges between communities through xenophobia, racism, and sexism.
The undocumented worker, TPS holder, naturalized citizen, Black voter, low-income communities, LGBTQ communities and more may experience similar and different forms of scapegoating marginalization. These depictions thriveand keep us from recognizing our interconnected struggles . Separation works best when marginalized people can be convinced to fear one another instead of examining the systems failing us all.
There is also a history that conservative Americans rarely want included in the immigration conversation. We discuss migration as though the United States merely discovered instability elsewhere instead of the real narrative of aggressive genocide and the mass exile of Indigenous folks. In recent news of immigrants’ current plight, America has helped shape the political conditions of several countries whose citizens were forced to emigrate and seek protection.
The United States unlawfully occupied Haiti from 1915 to 1934, exercising extensive political manipulation and financial control. Decades later, during Central America’s Cold War conflicts, the United States supplied significant military and economic assistance to El Salvador and backed Contra forces fighting Nicaragua’s government, with Honduras becoming deeply entangled in the regional conflict.
To pretend that the United States has solely been a distant observer is a twisted case of historical amnesia. We cannot participate in destabilizing regions, benefit from immigrant labor for decades, and then act bewildered when instability forces migration to the country powerful enough to decimate their native countries. (¿Te suena familiar, verdad?)
It’s ironic – the very people in power who insist on blending their politics into Christianity do not examine what Christianity asks of its believers.
There is nothing Christlike about deliberately separating families and caging children.
There is nothing faithful about turning the stranger into a political enemy, sending law-abiding humans toward danger or leaving children with empty bedrooms while professing Christianity. That is not moral clarity; it is selective, temporary theology. TPS holders are not temporary people. Their stories are not temporary. The lives they’ve built in the United States are not temporary. They should not be used as political props for scapegoating.
Simply being an immigrant, trans, Black or aware of your constitutional rights is not evidence of the absurd conspiracy theories that harm communities. The humans behind those claims are our neighbors, coworkers, classmates, congregants, caregivers, spouses, parents, and children.
In this moment, safety, affordable food, gas, and homes, access to healthcare and bodily autonomy, due process, and a meaningful pathway for long-term status and stability are all required. And, above all, the preservation of families, even those that may look different than our own, is what I hope continues to motivate voters to show up at the ballot box. Keeping families together is not radical. It is about honoring another human’s humanity, and for those who claim to be Christian, it is most certainly the right thing to do.
Allen serves as the Director of Policy at the Task Force Nacional LGBTQ, donde lidera los esfuerzos nacionales para promover la equidad mediante la incidencia legislativa y administrativa. Antes de unirse a... Task ForceAllen creó y dirigió el primer equipo de políticas de la organización sin fines de lucro de inmigración más grande de Texas, impulsando reformas que benefician a las comunidades inmigrantes.
Allen posee una Maestría en Derecho Internacional y Derechos Humanos y una Licenciatura en Ciencias Políticas. Con más de una década de experiencia en políticas públicas, reforma migratoria, reforma de la justicia penal y derechos humanos, ha trabajado en los sectores legal, corporativo, gubernamental y sin fines de lucro.
Acerca de Task Force Nacional LGBTQ:
El Task Force Nacional LGBTQ advances full freedom, justice, and equity for LGBTQ people. We are building a future where everyone can be free to be their entire selves in every aspect of their lives. Today, despite all the progress we’ve made to end discrimination, millions of LGBTQ people face barriers in every aspect of their lives: in housing, employment, healthcare, retirement, and basic human rights.
