The end arrives in Brooklyn

In August, immigration lawyer Stephanie Delia and publicist Anya prepared flyers warning Haitians about the end of Temporary Protected Status. As they worked, a federal judge's ruling came through: T.P.S. was over.

“It looks like it's done. That's the final nail.”

Three hundred thirty thousand lose status overnight

Haitians have held Temporary Protected Status since two thousand ten, shielding about three hundred and thirty thousand people from deportation. The Trump administration argued conditions in Haiti had improved enough to end the protection.

Anya warns her childhood friend

Anya called her friend Emmanuella, whom she had known since childhood. She warned her to be careful, avoid checkpoints, and use Uber. People who had been legally living in America that morning were now considered illegal immigrants.

“Mind yourself. Mind your manners. Just be careful.”

Emmanuella goes to work as usual

Despite the news, Emmanuella, twenty-eight, went to her nannying job looking after an eight-year-old boy. She celebrated his cooking camp project and helped him with an essay. There were no agents or checkpoints. Nothing was different except her changed status.

A family that fled gang violence

Emmanuella was born in Port-au-Prince. Her father worked in shipping and became a target for corrupt police and gangs called chimès. Criminals shot up their house while the family was at church. They fled to the United States.

Emmanuella arrives at age four

In two thousand three, when Emmanuella was four, her parents returned to Haiti to retrieve her and her sister. The family settled in New York on a visa they could renew until Temporary Protected Status became available in two thousand ten.

Alone among her family

Emmanuella's older sister obtained a green card through marriage. Her younger siblings were born in America and are citizens. Her mother got a green card through her U.S.-citizen children. Emmanuella remained the only T.P.S. holder in her immediate family.

The loneliness of one status

Emmanuella found her status lonely. She tracked Immigration and Customs Enforcement activity online and watched videos of Haitians being fitted with ankle monitors in Ohio. Her family did not feel the danger the way she did.

“No one else has that gun to their head.”

No pathway to citizenship

Temporary Protected Status offers the ability to live and work legally but provides no pathway to citizenship. Emmanuella knew of only one surefire way to become a citizen: marriage. An immigration lawyer told her this before she turned eighteen.

Howard University becomes impossible

Emmanuella attended a competitive high school and was accepted to Howard University, her dream school. She discovered that T.P.S. holders were not eligible for financial aid. She started part time at a public university instead but dropped out when the pandemic hit.

“Man, that was the worst. The worst.”

Trump promises to revoke protection

In two thousand twenty-four, Trump campaigned for another term, explicitly promising to eliminate protections for Haitians. At a debate that fall, he repeated false claims that Haitians in Springfield, Ohio, were eating cats and dogs, drawing bomb threats to the city.

“Absolutely, I'd revoke it. I'd bring them back to their country.”

Emmanuella's clock is ticking

Once Trump took office, Emmanuella said she knew it was over. The mother she nannied for offered to adopt her, but she was well past the age required to qualify for adoption-based immigration benefits. She had no other options.

“I knew it was over for me. My clock was ticking.”

The year of dating begins

Emmanuella decided to make two thousand twenty-five the year of dating. She downloaded Hinge and B.L.K., an app for Black singles, and started swiping on men looking for husband material. She needed someone kind and a U.S. citizen.

“Not just any old guy. A husband.”

A month-long relationship fails

By February two thousand twenty-six, Emmanuella had one good prospect: a man she had known for years who wanted to help her. They dated for about a month before she realized she could not go through with it. She did not want to kiss him or hold his hand.

“Yeah, no, this is selling my soul. Unhand me!”

A mental health crisis

That spring, Emmanuella stayed up most nights with racing thoughts. She dreamed about T.P.S. She did not want to get out of bed. She found a psychiatrist and received a diagnosis for anxiety and depression but never took the prescribed medications.

“What am I gonna do, what am I gonna do, what am I gonna do. Then, I realize, there's nothing I can do.”

Haiti remains dangerous

Haiti has descended into gang rule since the two thousand ten earthquake. More than a million people remain internally displaced. The country has not held a Presidential election since two thousand sixteen. Armed groups control much of the capital, conducting kidnappings for ransom.

Deportations begin in August

On August twentieth, a deportation flight carrying one hundred and sixty-one passengers departed Alexandria, Louisiana, and landed in Cap-Haïtien. It was the first such flight since the end of T.P.S. Deportees arrived in government-issued white sweatpants and T-shirts.

“Send us home! But treat us like human beings.”

A college student's tragedy

In Springfield, Ohio, Pierre Damas Bel, a twenty-year-old honor-roll student planning to study neuroscience, was outfitted with an ankle monitor at an immigration check-in. He wrote of feeling shame and humiliation. Not long after, he stepped into traffic and was killed by a tractor-trailer.

“I came to this country to pursue my education. I didn't come here to commit a crime or hurt anyone.”

Emmanuella's plan is to wait

Emmanuella gave up on marrying. She updated her paperwork, went to work, and came straight home. Her mother gave her an eleven P.M. curfew, which she followed. Trump would be President for about two more years. Her only plan was to wait.

A country she cannot return to

Emmanuella has only impressionistic memories of Haiti: a big house, a courtyard, kids playing. She cannot read Creole fluently and speaks it with an American accent. She has no family there anymore. When she can finally go back, she said, it will be without her.

“Well, by us, I mean you. I'm staying here.”