{"id":717,"date":"2023-12-31T01:14:05","date_gmt":"2023-12-31T01:14:05","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thanassiscambanis.com\/sipa\/?p=717"},"modified":"2023-12-31T01:14:05","modified_gmt":"2023-12-31T01:14:05","slug":"temporarily-protected-the-precarious-reality-for-migrants-living-in-the-u-s","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/thanassiscambanis.com\/sipa\/2023\/12\/temporarily-protected-the-precarious-reality-for-migrants-living-in-the-u-s\/","title":{"rendered":"Temporarily Protected: The Precarious Reality for Migrants Living in the U.S."},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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By Claudia Villalona\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In 1998, Modesta Rodriguez trudged through Central America\u2019s dense jungles and the frigid deserts and mountains of Mexico to escape domestic violence and poverty in her home country of Honduras. At nearly 50 years old, \u200b\u200bshe walked over twenty miles each night, camouflaged in the darkness while struggling to ignore the lifeless bodies that littered the route.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI was thirsty, tired, hungry and cold, but I couldn\u2019t stop. They [the coyotes or migrant smugglers] don\u2019t wait for anyone,\u201d Modesta said in Spanish. \u201cI would have been nothing but food for the vultures.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Among the group of twenty other migrants, Modesta found a friend in a young Peruvian man who referred to her as \u201cTiti\u201d or Auntie. She gave him some of her food in exchange for protection. The coyotes sexually assaulted the other women in her group as they pleased\u2013 a common occurrence on the migrant trail. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Modesta and the others assumed fictitious names and were strictly forbidden from carrying any form of identification\u2013 not even a family member\u2019s phone number. Dying on the migrant route meant quietly disappearing into the desolate and unforgiving terrain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Today, the passage Modesta took decades ago is well-trodden. Yenis, her husband and their infant child are among the 7 million<\/a> Venezuelans, or a quarter of the population, that have fled the country\u2019s authoritarian rule and socioeconomic collapse in recent years. The mass exodus<\/a> constitutes the largest displacement ever recorded in the Western Hemisphere. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yenis and her family survived the Dari\u00e9n Gap, a dangerous 60-mile stretch of jungle that connects North and South America where many migrants are robbed, raped and killed. Human bones litter the jungle-stretch and \u201cthe stench of death was hard to stand,\u201d Yenis told the New Yorker<\/a>. While some things have changed the deadly nature of the journey remains the same. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

After a grueling 6-week journey, Modesta crossed the southern U.S. border into Texas. She narrowly missed the hurricane that destroyed Honduras shortly after she left. In the wake of the disaster, the U.S. government granted Honduran nationals residing in the U.S. Temporary Protective Status (TPS). <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Presidents from both parties have since used the program to protect migrants fleeing natural catastrophes, war, and societal violence. While the designation provides legal work permits and protection from deportation, it does not offer a direct path to permanent legal residence or citizenship. Nonetheless, she considered herself fortunate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Nearly 25 years later, Modesta remains in the U.S. in a <\/strong>semi-permanent legal limbo, <\/strong>neither undocumented nor a legal permanent resident, renewing her TPS status every 6 to 18 months. Currently, 600,000 foreign nationals from 16 countries live and work in the U.S. under TPS, with 93% of these recipients originating from Latin America. On average, TPS recipients have lived in the US for over twenty years, according to the Congressional Research Service<\/a>.   <\/p>\n\n\n\n

In September, the Biden Administration granted TPS eligibility to just under half a million Venezuelan migrants<\/a> who have been living in the U.S. prior to July 31, in an effort to ease the pressure on the backlogged federal immigration system and strained local governments amid the nation\u2019s current migrant crisis. Yenis and her family are now eligible for TPS having arrived in late 2022. They are among the 200,000 migrants<\/a> bussed into New York City from the southern border since 2021.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

However, for most newly arrived migrants, the only way to legally stay in the U.S. is to contest their deportation in court and request asylum which offers an eventual path to citizenship. The process is complicated, requires substantial legal assistance and final rulings can take several years or even up to a decade. <\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Since the last comprehensive immigration reform nearly forty years ago, the government has adopted a patchwork of quick-fix, stop-gap policies that experts say fail to address the deep-rooted, systemic issue. The outdated, understaffed and underfunded immigration and asylum system has failed to respond to historic levels of arrivals at the border. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The precarious reality of the migrant does not end once they cross the border into the U.S.– it is only the beginning. Like so many before and after her, Modesta left the country she called home and risked her life in search of a better future for herself and her family. Nonetheless, she and thousands of others, find themselves locked in a position of uncertainty as casualties of a broken immigration and asylum system.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Modesta\u2019s story offers lessons on the cost of inaction on immigration reform and the need to establish accessible and sustainable paths to legal permanent residency and citizenship. Whether they arrived recently, like Yenis, or decades ago, like Modesta, migrants and asylum seekers express an overwhelming desire to work to provide a stable future for themselves and their families as valued and contributing members of society. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Migrant Crisis Arrives in NYC<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

This year, over 2 million undocumented crossings have been tallied at the U.S.-Mexico border for a third-record-setting year in a row.<\/a> Hundreds of thousands have relocated to New York City, Chicago, Boston and other cities across the country with the help of Texas Governor Greg Abbott<\/a>. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The surge in arrivals in NYC has challenged its long-standing tradition as a sanctuary for immigrants. In September, Mayor Eric Adams warned <\/a>that the migrant crisis \u201cwill destroy New York City.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The city government has scrambled to set up emergency housing for migrants in midtown hotels, emergency tent shelters on Randall\u2019s Island<\/a>, school gymnasiums, office buildings, and parking lots. According to the latest data<\/a> in October, over 60,000 migrants are staying in the city\u2019s emergency shelters. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Many of the arrivals in the city intend to claim asylum, which would allow them to legally stay and work while they await their cases to be heard. Once the initial asylum application is filed, migrants must wait six months, and often even longer, to receive legal work authorizations. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The federal asylum system, facing a backlog of two million cases,<\/a> has struggled to process the most recent influx of asylum requests and grant timely work authorizations. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s like watching paint dry,\u201d complained Councilman Bob Holden from Queens to the NYPost <\/a>on the pace of the process. \u201cIt shows that the government \u2014 no matter what level, city, state and federal \u2014 isn\u2019t cut out to handle this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Frustrated state and local officials<\/a> have campaigned for the Biden administration to expedite work authorizations and allocate more resources to address the influx. The logic is that the faster newly-arrived migrants can work the quicker they can graduate from the city\u2019s overcrowded and strained shelters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Businesses across the country facing labor shortages also want migrants to have access to legal work. According to labor statistics<\/a> released this year, more than two million unfilled positions were reported in construction, hospitality, and retail. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the meantime, many new arrivals in NYC and elsewhere have resorted to working in the informal and underground economy<\/a> alongside the existing population of undocumented workers, where they are particularly susceptible to exploitation like wage theft. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Cost of Bureaucratic Delays and Shelter Limits <\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

As the federal government fails to process and issue work permits in a timely manner, Mayor Eric Adams has sought to limit the city\u2019s legal obligations amid the crisis, particularly its \u201cright to shelter\u201d mandate. Earlier this fall, Adams announced a 30-day limit <\/a>for individuals and a 60-day limit for families in the city-run shelters.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Many legal advocates have raised concerns that evicting thousands, apart from deepening the humanitarian crisis, could further complicate the allocation of work authorizations\u2014 a critical step, experts say<\/a>, to alleviating the acute housing crisis. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Nonetheless, Mayor Adams has remained steadfast, warning that New Yorkers will soon see \u201cpeople sleeping in the streets\u201d this winter as the city\u2019s shelter system has run \u201cout of room.\u201d<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cForcing families with children who have already endured unthinkable suffering on their journey to New York to be denied safe shelter is devoid of any humanity and is a stain on our city,\u201d Legal Aid and the Coalition for the Homeless said in a joint statement.<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Luis, a Honduran migrant who declined to give his last name, arrived in the city with his family over the summer. Unlike Modesta, Luis is not eligible for TPS despite Honduras\u2019 designation, as it is only granted to those who arrived prior to 1999. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

While he waits for his work authorization, he and his wife have resorted to selling candy and water bottles on the streets in Jackson Heights. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe pray that the work permit will arrive before they force us to move out of the shelter,\u201d Luis said in Spanish.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Venezuelans Celebrate TPS<\/strong><\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Venezuelans, like Yenis and her family, account for roughly 40% of NYC\u2019s migrant surge and a quarter of occupants in the city\u2019s shelters, according to the city\u2019s estimates. <\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Biden Administration\u2019s extension of Temporary Protected Status for recently-arrived Venezuelans living in the U.S. allowed Venezuelans to begin the work authorization process immediately. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\u2019ve been living in fear, and it takes it away,\u201d said Julio Cesar Gonzales to the NYTimes.<\/a> \u201cThe fear of not having work, of not eating, of our kids not going to school.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Venezuelan Honorario Gonz\u00e1lez learned of his potential TPS eligibility through a reporter<\/a> from THE CITY.  “The ability to work \u201cwould change everything,\u201d he said.  \u201cI could pay rent and pay taxes and be legal. All of us want that: to work,\u201d he said. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

At 73 years old, Modesta, who diligently pays taxes and renews her TPS every 6 to 18 months, echoed this sentiment, \u201cI am grateful to this country because work dignifies.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Reality of Precarity <\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

However, as experts cautiously celebrate the extension, they maintain that the protections offered by the federal program are not a panacea. Delays in the processing of new TPS applications have already been reported, and the application itself requires legal support. Many pro-bono legal aid organizations are stretched thin and lack the capacity to conduct the necessary outreach.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

While temporary legality provides relief for many, in the long term, it lends to uncertainty and exclusion, by generating \u201cde facto members of American society who are offered less than full membership,\u201d according to Claire Bergeron, a legal expert in migration.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Under current immigration law<\/a>, TPS holders are barred from applying for lawful permanent residence if they initially entered the country illegally. This disqualifies the vast majority of current and prospective recipients. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

TPS-holders are also vulnerable to sudden termination of their country\u2019s designation, as the Trump administration had attempted and vowed to see through if elected in 2024. This would render hundreds of thousands, many having lived in the country for decades, unable to work and vulnerable to deportation. As Congress delays a more permanent solution, many live in constant fear the next president will discontinue the program.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

About 1.8 million people<\/a> hold Temporary Protected Status, student visas, DACA, or other legal statuses that can be withdrawn at any time with minimal warning. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

In a survey<\/a> conducted earlier this year by the Los Angeles Times and KFF,  about 4 in 10 migrants polled with legal, non-permanent status said they avoided talking to police, going to the doctor, or traveling out of fear of losing their status.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The paths to legal permanent residence, and eventually citizenship, are incredibly narrow for those who need it the most. In a June report titled, \u201cWhy Legal Immigration Is Nearly Impossible,<\/a>\u201d the Cato Institute found that less than 1% of applicants for permanent residence are eligible. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Modesta shows resilience in the face of continued uncertainty. \u201cWho builds the skyscrapers? Who cooks the food in the restaurants? Who cleans the houses and offices? Who picks the fruit? Who tends the garden?\u201d It was clear she had the conversation many times before. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m not complaining about the work; I complain that they talk badly of us. We do what we can to survive. We don\u2019t risk our lives or leave our home because we want to,\u201d Modesta continued defiantly, as tears swelled in her eyes. \u201cIt\u2019s not that I don\u2019t love my country. Honduras is beautiful!\u201d  <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

By Claudia Villalona\u00a0 In 1998, Modesta Rodriguez trudged through Central America\u2019s dense jungles and the frigid deserts and mountains of Mexico to escape domestic violence and poverty in her home country of Honduras. At nearly 50 years old, \u200b\u200bshe walked…<\/p>\n

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