VIvir mi vida: The many faces of the -venezuelan displacement crisis - By marcel lacey
Venezuelans represent the largest growing immigration group to the U.S from South America, making them among the heaviest affected by changes in immigration policies.
The People
Jane leans into her husband before looking back at her toddler sleeping peacefully on the bed of their cramped studio accommodation. She stares off, looking past the camera, pausing to collect her thoughts before recounting the events of the past few months and the uncertainty of the future.
The 34-year-old and her family are among the thousands of migrants facing deportation after the Trump administration took aim at temporary stay programs for Venezuelans.
On day one of his second term, Donald Trump signed an executive order terminating a Biden-era program that allowed migrants from Venezuela to live in the U.S for up to two years — explicitly targeting a group that has seen their immigration numbers triple to 700,000 in the last decade.
Rampant corruption, violence and inflation have displaced 8 million Venezuelans since the crisis began, making the exodus the largest forced displacement crisis in Latin American history and the future of the Venezuelan diaspora unsure.
Jane and her husband Bob traveled to the U.S a little under two and half years ago. The couple previously resided in Colombia and Brazil, having escaped Venezuela and the worsening economic and political conditions. Still, life in Colombia was hard and conditions were far from ideal. Xenophobic encounters were a daily occurrence and when Bob lost his job the couple knew they had to leave.
Not much later Jane became pregnant with her son and the couple started thinking about what kind of life they would want their child to have, deciding that they would try to come to the U.S.
“If we were in Venezuela, maybe it would have been better because we had more family support, but since we had already left Venezuela and had gone through bad things and we were not living well, we wanted our child to have options,” said Jane.
But First. HOW DID WE GET HERE?
Bob came to the U.S under the CHNV parole program. Informally known as humanitarian parole, it granted temporary humanitarian protection status to Cuban, Haitian, Nicaraguan and Venezuelan nationals with U.S based sponsors. On January 20th, the Trump administration ended the program in an executive order titled “Securing Our Borders”. Jane, however, did not qualify for the program and had to come to the U.S under a tourist visa.
“It’s really impacted us. It’s hard because imagine this was the only way to reside here, legally that is, and now they’ve taken it away and you’re out in the cold,” said Bob.
While Jane and Bob are in the U.S legally as of now, they know they’re on a strict timeline. So, with little recourse left, they submitted a case for asylum.
Speaking with immigration lawyers and paralegals is something that has aided the family in the U.S but one issue remains. Their son is a natural born citizen, adding to the pressure to try and keep the family together. Their case, while unique, is not uncommon for the many Venezuelans that now call the U.S home.
Prior to the death of Hugo Chavez in 2013 —the face of Venezuela’s authoritarian regime — immigration to the U.S was low in comparison to other South American countries. In 2010, roughly 184,000 immigrants resided in the U.S and in 2022 that number has more than tripled to 668,000, marking the largest growth among any South American country.
Venezuelan immigration to the U.S has seen an influx like many groups throughout history, but remains distinct because of the fact that they are not as well established when they come here. Andrew Selee is the president of the Migration Policy Institute, a global nonpartisan institution that seeks to improve immigration and integration policies through fact-based research.
Alongside heading the organization he has studied the Venezuelan diaspora and recently authored a 2024 report titled “Expanding Protection Options? Flexible Approaches to Status for Displaced Syrians, Venezuelans, and Ukrainians”.
“Almost all people that come here are either looking for a job, for studies, or for family reunification but even if they are coming in an unauthorized way, they tend to have a couch to sleep on… Venezuelans are really unique in the past few years in not having that,” said Selee.
This is something that Selee says has contributed to the way they’ve been labeled by this administration as “boogeymen”. Their visibility in shelters across the U.S. and their numbers have led them to become a target and first on the chopping block when it comes to legislation.
In addition, increased media coverage and a focus on the Venezuelan gang Tren de Aragua has created harmful associations for the hundreds of thousands of migrants in the U.S., only worsening the group’s optics amid escalating displacement.
Tren de Aragua has expanded its operations in recent years, gaining increased visibility in the Americas. What began as a Venezuelan prison gang has become a transnational crime organization known for human trafficking, extortion, and smuggling drugs such as cocaine and MDMA. It primarily preys on desperate migrants, according to the U.S Office of Foreign Assets Control (OFAC).
“There is real concern among federal authorities about this Venezuelan gang and there has been a lot here in New York City. The NYPD has been investigating them for shootings and robbery patterns, but its reach was misleadingly amplified in many ways by Trump and Republicans,” said Luis Ferré-Sadurní, an immigration reporter for the New York Times.
In the small town of Doral, about 15 miles West of Miami, the gang’s name has spread fear in a community that feels that they are being misrepresented as a political tool. Nicknamed “Doralzuela”, Doral is 40% Venezuelan, making the current administration’s actions a hot button issue in the town.
In early February, the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) gave notice that the U.S would be terminating the Temporary Protected Status (TPS) designation for Venezuelans, effectively ousting more than 300,000 people by the end of the year without hope of extension.
Previously, DHS had extended the TPS designation for Venezuela for 18 months, meaning that there were extraordinary and temporary conditions in that country that prevented the safe return of Venezuelans. This impacted Venezuelans who had filed for TPS under the 2021 designation and 2023 designation.
For the former group, their protection was set to expire on September 10th, 2025. For those who filed in 2023, they would have to leave the country by April 2nd. The extension covered both groups and extended their deadline to October 2nd, 2026.
Alongside humanitarian parole, this is the main program Venezuelan migrants have utilized to reside in the U.S.
Maureen Porras is the Vice Mayor of the city of Doral as well as an immigration attorney and legal director for a global nonprofit organization. She said her community is reliant on Venezuelans and that they are a key part of the city’s character.
“We do have a population of about 40% Venezuelas that make up the population of the city of Doral and many of them are TPS holders. Of course, we have citizens and lawful permanent residents but of those that are TPS holders, many of them are business owners,” said Porras. “They are a part of our workforce, they’re part of our schools, they’re our neighbors, our friends and they’ve made contributions to our city. Without them, we will not be the same.”
For the community of Doral — as is the case all around the U.S — Venezuelans are operating in a legal grey area. With no way to predict the next day’s law changes, it’s hard to give legal advice to these displaced migrants.
Porras has worked in immigration law for over a decade in the public sector. She said that as much as it is her job to answer questions and serve her community, her main priority is highlighting disinformation and misinformation.
“They [Venezuelan migrants in Doral] look to me. We’ve been doing the best we can to provide people with the right information because there’s a lot of information that’s incorrect,” said Porras. “I always urge them to seek legal advice and get their cases analyzed individually, because there isn’t a one size fits all advice that I could give them as an immigration lawyer.”
Outside of Florida, Venezuelans are concentrated primarily in Miami, Houston, New York City and Los Angeles — among other cities.
In New York City, the Roosevelt Hotel has been transformed into a migrant housing center, earning the nickname “The New Ellis Island”. Inside, the city set up an operation to help migrants file for asylum and temporary work permits. In 2023, Venezuelans made up 35% of those that the city had rehoused, making them the largest percentage of migrants in the shelter.
In February of this year, Mayor Eric Adams announced that the hotel would stop housing migrants by June.
In cities like New York that have taken measures to aid Venezuelans in shelters, the main concern is helping families and individuals find work. In helping migrants apply for asylum, the city hopes to push the ball forward and enables them to file for a temporary work permit sooner. Those that can find work are able to save up money, find housing, and get out of the shelter system. Still, many families have children that they have to support and language barriers can be a steep hurdle to overcome.
“I’ve interviewed dozens of immigrants from Venezuela and by and large they’re fleeing economic hardship in Venezuela as well as, in some cases, political repression or threats from armed groups or for expressing political dissent against the Maduro government,” said Ferré-Sadurní.
That was the case for Sally and George. They had no choice but to leave.
Sally remembers running from bullets while attending a protest in Caracas, Venezuela’s capital. Having recently gotten involved in protesting on a more organized scale, it was not uncommon to hear stories of violent repression of protests. Still, here they were seeking shelter in a Wendy’s and sprinting up the street while bodies fell around them.
At the time, 2014, demonstrations were commonplace and confrontation with the country’s National Guard wasn’t unusual. However, the couple knew very well the danger that “Colectivos” or collectives posed.
“They functioned as an arm of the government; they were like the government’s protectors,” said Sally.
“They’re like a para-military institution that isn’t regulated by anything. They are the mobsters or the cleaning crew of the government. If they have an issue with somebody, they won’t send the police. They will send the “Colectivos” because they don’t answer to anyone except the President,” George said.
“Colectivos” are gangs of armed individuals that serve the ruling party in Venezuela, often swaying close presidential races through intimidation. Outside of this, they are a security force that serves an extension of the Socialist Party.
So when they heard people shouting “Colectivos!” they knew it was only a matter of time before chaos broke out.
Leading up to the protests, Sally worked as a government employee in Venezuela before she was fired for being a suspected dissident. After moving to Caracas and experiencing the violence against protestors, the two finally decided that it was time to leave — worrying that their opposition to the government would threaten their lives.
After seeking work that could take them abroad, they found a company willing to bring them to Mexico for a work visa. When they arrived, they soon realized that the company had lied about covering all the flight expenses leaving them stranded and at the mercy of their employers. Then, after a grueling three months, they returned to Venezuela with little money left.
Struggling but still determined to leave, George bought a flight to Miami for $300 and came over.
At the time, Sally’s employment paid her $20 a month so the couple knew it would take time to bring them both over. Eventually, she saved up enough and the two were reunited and began their asylum process.
In Miami, a hotspot for Venezuelan migrants, Sally said it wasn’t uncommon for migrants to seek legal advice from paralegals or religious establishments. The two were skeptical of this and felt that non-attorneys offering legal advice was predatory on desperate migrants.
“I’ve had people tell me ‘Well, you don’t need to find a lawyer .There’s churches that will help you fill out the application [for asylum]. They just ask for a donation’. A donation? I didn’t know how the system worked here until later on but these churches were asking for $1200 and they said you had to make it as a donation and couldn’t say it was for a service. I remember thinking that this sounds fake,” said Sally.
The couple then made their way to New York where they applied for asylum. That was in 2016. As of today, the couple still hasn’t received an appointment to plead their case. Further complicating the process, they too have a young child with birthright citizenship.
Due to the influx of Venezuelans, Sally said that their case got backlogged. In her view, in order to review the cases of new arrivals, those coming after 2016, it meant that they had to prioritize certain applications, leaving families that had come earlier behind.
TPS deadlines are a key source of stress for Venezuelans migrants. With updates rolling in weekly on the legality of Venezuelan mass deportations, the state of TPS, and with the expedited nature at which the current administration is seeking to carry out their removal, every day is a challenge.
On March 31st, U.S. District Judge Edward Chen of San Francisco blocked and delayed the Trump administration’s removal of TPS for Venezuelans, citing concerns that the reasoning was based on racial discrimination and generalizations that many Venezuelans were involved in gang activity.
The lawsuit will continue to play out in court as lawyers for the administration hold the position that homeland Secretary Kristi Noem was well within her rights to vacate the protection.
The administration appealed and in April the 9th Circuit Court of Appeals refused the request to temporarily block District Judge Chen’s order while litigation proceeded.
Since then, lawyers from the administration have appealed to the Supreme Court. A ruling in their favor would enable them to proceed with the removal of TPS for Venezuelans.
For the Venezuelans that make the journey to the U.S. uncertainty awaits them. At home, poverty and corruption ravages the population and in the U.S., politics and increasing associations drawn between Venezuelans and the gang Tren de Aragua has called into question the group’s right to reside in America.
Still, thousands continue to leave Venezuela everyday in pursuit of a better life.
What's next?
Bob and Jane said they’ve been advised to stay calm, despite the slew of deportations around them. Their lawyer told them that he doesn’t know what the future holds, but that panic and desperation will only do them more harm. With the added pressure of raising a young child, all they can do is have faith that the system will provide a means of staying for them.
For Sally and George, they hope to get their day in court with an asylum judge and make their case. Like Bob and Jane, they too share a deep sense of anxiety but cling to hope, something that to them is a necessity.
“We just try to solve the issues we can solve …. It’s just so uncertain that what has kept us a bit saner is thinking about what we can solve right now… Things like putting your accounts in the name of someone that lives here, appointing a possible guardian that can take care of our child. It’s scary to think but it gives me reassurance,” said Sally.