Children’s fingerpaintings of crabs dotted the walls of an early learning classroom in North Spokane where about a dozen Haitians and a few allies gathered. It was late June, just days after the Supreme Court decided that the Trump administration could legally end Temporary Protected Status for Haitians and Syrians fleeing dangerous conditions in their home countries.
There was sadness hanging in the air as people sat in a circle, perched on colorful kids’ chairs and with their knees forced close to their chests. There was no time to mourn, though. They needed a crisis plan.
Day care teachers, a social worker, folks from the Haitian-led nonprofit Creole Resources and Luc Jasmin III, the Eastern Washington representative from the governor’s office — these are the Haitians who know other Haitians, who can help connect people in their community with necessary information.
There are roughly 330,000 Haitians living in the United States under what had been Temporary Protected Status. About 150 of them reside in Spokane, according to estimates from community leaders, making up about a quarter of the roughly 500 Haitians in the region.
Jasmin III and his sister Katia, executive director of Creole Resources, had called the meeting to shore up community resources and communication, looking for a way to make sure every Haitian in Spokane had access to the most up-to-date information, legal assistance when necessary and a phone number to call for help with everyday needs like transportation. They had already been building networks to connect people with pro bono lawyers and housing assistance; but, with the Supreme Court decision, the situation had changed, adding additional urgency to their existing vigilance.
First came the long list of hazards the community is facing today.
“The bus isn’t safe right now,” Luc told the room. “We need safe ways for everyone in the community to get to and from work.”
Everyone following the immigration process required for Temporary Protected Status had given their information to Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), often including their home addresses and their workplaces. Some of them had even been told to download an app on their phone that tracked their IP address and location in real time.
Next was the long list of logistical unknowns: How many Haitians could be reached at church? Who would be unable to attend a meeting with lawyers because Amazon’s Prime Day would keep them working overtime in the warehouse? Who could assist elder members of the community with Zoom, so they could watch recordings explaining their legal rights? And most importantly, who was on Temporary Protected Status? Who could potentially become immediate targets for ICE agents in the area?
“It’s very important that we have that list, because ICE already has it,” Luc said, as Katia nodded next to him. “ICE already has everyone’s information … we’re trying to figure out how we can pull everyone in so they don’t pick you up.”
Though it can be terrifying to interact with immigration officials under the Trump administration — which has proven to violate immigrants’ rights to due process at times — and being ordered to install tracking software only increases the draconian vibe, Sam Smith, co-founder of local nonprofit Manzanita House, emphasized that failing to do these things, which include attending check-ins with ICE, could result in serious negative consequences.
One man knew people who had been detained by ICE while attending their immigration appointments. “They’re walking into the lions’ den,” he said. “People are risking their lives to do it the right way.”
“I am heartbroken for the pain and the difficulty that this is causing our Haitian and Syrian community members and all those who know that this is just another indication of how unrestrained this administration is behaving,” Smith said.
Despite how overwhelming it can all feel, there are things people can do to ease that fear, Smith said. For instance, people can head to appointments with their attorney or, if they lack legal representation, they can request accompaniment services from organizations like the Washington Immigrant Solidarity Network or the Refugee and Immigrant Connections Spokane.
Those in the classroom willing to take on the responsibility would each become a point of contact for certain issues. Haitians needing legal assistance could call Katia, those needing transportation assistance could call Thamar. One woman could coordinate grocery drop-offs, another would handle miscellaneous needs. Everyone would add every community member that they knew to a large group chat where information could be shared and spread. They would hold internal town halls virtually, some on days when child care workers could come, and others on days when warehouse workers typically had days off. They would seek out landlords willing to rent to those with Temporary Protected Status and employers willing to hire them.
Creole Resources would serve as a hub for taking donations, spreading information and connecting with Haitians who needed help and allies who wanted to give it.
Smith said Manzanita House was planning informational and direct-service events in coordination with local Haitian community leaders to ensure the efforts were helpful, directed and reaching immigrants affected by the Supreme Court’s decision.
“We’re being somewhat careful about how we’re advertising these events because we are thinking about safety and [we’re] not wanting to draw attention to it,” he said. “But if they reach out to our office directly, then we can give them information about what we’re planning.”
The local nonprofit is also hoping to partner with Gonzaga’s immigration clinic and is collecting donations to cover asylum application filing fees and translate information into Haitian Creole, Smith told RANGE. Donations can also help the nonprofit organize asylum clinics.
As of early Tuesday afternoon, the nonprofit had raised $2,660 of its $20,000 goal.
‘Never given a chance’
Though most of the evening was devoted to crisis planning, there was discussion of the unfairness of the situation: United States foreign policy has contributed to destabilizing Haiti since before the island nation gained independence from France in 1801.Now, the U.S. had decided to turn around and carry out mass deportations against the refugees that it helped create.
“This refugee crisis is about America reaping what they’ve sown in Haiti: political interference; 19 years of occupation; 29 years of propping up dictatorships under the Duvalier regime; policies that harm the Haitian agriculture; U.S. interference in the 2010 elections; support to successive puppets and ineffective government; and more recently, ten years of unwavering support to a regime involved in corruption, massacres, human rights abuses and repression that brought Haiti to its knees,” Haitian feminist and social justice advocate Emmanuela Douyon wrote for Refinery29 in 2021, as the Biden administration targeted refugees.
The Haitians in the classroom in Spokane that day echoed those words.
“We don’t even own our own country anymore,” Luc said.
And in this country, in this city, the Haitian community has faced virulent racism, both in-person and in digital comments sections.
As a child crawled into Katia’s lap to cuddle, a child care worker in the circle — who primarily looks after white children — described hearing white people say they don’t want Haitians here.
“I see them as my kids and you’re saying you don’t want us here,” she said.
Another man described seeing his fellow Haitians working 16-hour days at some of the hardest jobs while hearing white people claim they’re a drain on resources.
“Why don’t they want us here?” he asked.
A huge frustration for Katia comes from feeling like her community “was never given a chance.”
“People keep saying TPS is temporary,” she said. “But people weren’t given a pathway to apply for next steps.”
The Trump administration has slowed many pathways to legal status, and paused processing immigration applications from countries on his travel ban list, which includes Haiti and Syria. Though court rulings ordered the Department of Homeland Security to resume reviewing the paused applications, there has been no quick progress, according to NPR reporting.
Julia Gelatt, associate director of U.S. immigration policy at the Migration Policy Institute, told NPR that “most people who have TPS and who have been on TPS for a long time simply don't have any path to permanent legal status in the United States.”
One woman in the room said that her husband’s citizenship swearing-in was canceled with no notice after he went through the whole legal process. It has yet to be rescheduled.
Uncertainty
As the Haitian community works to understand the potential legal pathways and immediate threats they could be facing, the refugee community at large is bracing for impact, too.
The June 25 court decision gave the Trump administration the power to strip Temporary Protected Status not just from Haitians and Syrians, but from anyone currently able to qualify for it, unless Congress steps in. Without an act of Congress, TPS could end for those from El Salvador on September 9, those from Sudan and Ukraine on October 19 and those from Lebanon on November 27.
Smith said immigrants affected by the loss of TPS who fear returning to their home countries can apply for asylum. Smith explained that while not a guarantee, the loss of TPS in this way has traditionally been considered an exception to the one-year filing window.
“But it is important to act quickly if someone is wanting to do so, which is why we’re trying to get the information out there and make sure people are responding timely to best preserve their right to seek protection in the United States and remain in the United States,” he said.
Smith encouraged anyone with concerns or questions to reach out to the nonprofit. If Manzanita House is unable to provide legal assistance, they can give them a referral to other legal firms in the Spokane area and across the state.
He urged community members to continue fighting for the safety of their neighbors and for the preservation of legal principles and due process no matter how disheartening the outlook may be.
“It is incumbent upon all of us … to continue to make noise and to fight and to know that nothing will change unless we make it change,” Smith said.
In the face of this uncertainty, the local Haitian community is urging concerned Spokanites to take action by calling Washington U.S. Sens. Patty Murray and Maria Cantwell and encouraging them to support legislation extending Haitian’s Temporary Protected Status until 2029. This legislation has already passed the House, but stalled in the Senate.
“Here in Spokane, our Haitian neighbors are more than a policy debate. They are health care workers caring for patients, caregivers supporting our seniors and children, and employees keeping our businesses running. They have built lives here and strengthened our community,” Mayor Lisa Brown wrote in a statement. “Congress must act now to provide pathways to citizenship for those who want to pursue the American Dream.”
