Trump Ends TPS for 80,000 Central American Immigrants \ Newslooks \ Washington DC \ Mary Sidiqi \ Evening Edition \ The Trump administration has officially ended Temporary Protected Status (TPS) for nearly 80,000 Hondurans and Nicaraguans. Many have lived and worked in the U.S. since 1999 following Hurricane Mitch. Critics say this move accelerates mass deportation efforts amid rising anti-immigrant policies.
Quick Looks
- President Trump ends TPS for 72,000 Hondurans and 4,000 Nicaraguans.
- Policy change affects immigrants who’ve lived in the U.S. since 1999.
- DHS Secretary Kristi Noem cited improved conditions in both countries.
- Critics argue the decision is driven by anti-immigration politics.
- TPS recipients fear deportation, loss of work permits in 60 days.
- Litigation delayed TPS removal under Trump’s first term.
- U.S. has also ended TPS for Haitians, Venezuelans, Ukrainians.
- Biden-era TPS protections increased dramatically before reversal.
- Honduras calls the move politically motivated despite repatriation programs.
Deep Look
The Trump administration has dealt a major blow to immigrant communities by ending Temporary Protected Status (TPS) for nearly 80,000 Hondurans and Nicaraguans who have legally lived and worked in the United States since the late 1990s. The move represents a dramatic shift in immigration policy, targeting long-term residents who have built lives, families, and businesses under the assumption that their status would continue to be renewed due to ongoing instability in their home countries.
The announcement, formalized in the Federal Register and taking effect 60 days after publication, was made by Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem, who concluded that the conditions in Honduras and Nicaragua no longer warranted the TPS designation. According to the Department of Homeland Security (DHS), both nations have made significant progress since Hurricane Mitch devastated the region in 1998, prompting the initial protections in 1999. Noem cited increased foreign investment, economic development, and tourism as key indicators that the countries are now capable of reintegrating returning nationals.
But for tens of thousands of TPS recipients, these bureaucratic metrics do not reflect their lived realities — either in the U.S., where they have contributed for decades, or in their countries of origin, where conditions remain unstable or unsafe. Many have not returned home in over 25 years, and their identities, livelihoods, and families are deeply rooted in American society. For them, the prospect of deportation represents not just a logistical disruption, but a personal and existential crisis.
Francis García, 48, has lived in the United States for almost three decades under TPS. Her three children, all born in the U.S., are now adults. “I feel sad, worried, and scared,” she told reporters. “I am very afraid to return to Honduras. I can’t imagine it; I wouldn’t want to.” Her sentiment echoes the fears of thousands of immigrants who have remained in legal limbo — working, paying taxes, and following the rules, only to find that decades of compliance and contribution offer no pathway to permanent residency.
Teofilo Martinez, 57, shared a similar story. Arriving in the U.S. with nothing, he now owns a construction company and works as a licensed realtor. His American dream is suddenly at risk. “We ask that our good behavior and contributions be taken into consideration,” he said. “There are no conditions in Honduras for us to return.”
The administration’s decision to end TPS for Hondurans and Nicaraguans is part of a sweeping immigration overhaul focused on reducing legal protections and increasing deportation eligibility. The White House has already rescinded TPS for hundreds of thousands of immigrants from other countries, including 500,000 Haitians, over 350,000 Venezuelans, 160,000 Ukrainians, and smaller groups from Nepal, Afghanistan, and Cameroon. Many of these decisions have been delayed by litigation, but the intent is clear: fulfill campaign promises to reduce overall immigration numbers and dismantle legacy humanitarian programs.
Critics argue that the TPS program, though labeled “temporary,” has functionally become a permanent fixture of U.S. immigration policy because the conditions in many countries remain unstable, and recipients have become integrated members of American society. While TPS does not provide a pathway to citizenship or permanent residency, recipients must re-register every 18 months, pass background checks, and maintain lawful conduct. Advocates say these regular screenings underscore the low-risk, high-contribution nature of the TPS community.
Jose Palma, co-coordinator of the National TPS Alliance, condemned the administration’s move, saying it disregards the humanity and stability these immigrants have brought to their communities. “These are people who have undergone rigorous vetting year after year,” Palma said. “They’ve invested in homes, businesses, and education. This is cruel and counterproductive.”
Adding insult to injury, officials from Honduras and Nicaragua have also voiced their frustration. Honduras’ Deputy Foreign Affairs Minister Antonio García said that while the Trump administration claims the country has recovered economically, the decision is rooted in politics, not humanitarian assessment. “They argue Honduras has investment and tourism,” he said, “but it’s their anti-immigrant platform that’s driving this. They promised it during the campaign, and now they’re delivering.”
The end of TPS will mean the termination of work permits and legal protections for those who don’t find another legal route to stay in the U.S. Immigration attorneys say options are limited, and many could be placed in removal proceedings within weeks of the protections expiring.
While the Biden administration had significantly expanded TPS designations, protecting nearly a million people, President Trump’s renewed term marks a stark reversal of that trend. The administration has vowed to increase deportations, enforce immigration law uniformly, and prevent “temporary” programs from becoming permanent by default.
For TPS recipients who have spent more time in the United States than in their countries of birth, this moment represents a devastating turn. Many came following a natural disaster and built lives under the belief that America had opened its doors not just temporarily, but in recognition of shared values of safety, opportunity, and contribution.
The clock is now ticking for nearly 80,000 people to uproot everything they’ve built or face legal consequences. As the deadline looms, the future for these communities hangs in the balance — a future that may soon depend not on their years of lawful presence or civic contribution, but on a political climate increasingly hostile to their very existence.
Trump Ends TPS
You must Register or Login to post a comment.