President Donald Trump stood onstage at a presidential debate in his last campaign and falsely accused the Haitians of Springfield, Ohio of eating pets. He derided their place of birth as a “shithole” country that should be cut off from immigration — privately in his first term, then proudly and publicly in his second.
Now, the community is living in fear that he’ll soon put action to those words. Hundreds of thousands of Haitians who came to the United States to flee violence and instability in their home country are already preparing to become the next targets of the Trump administration’s immigration enforcement sweeps that have roiled cities like Minneapolis and Chicago.
In Springfield, reports of imminent ICE raids sparked panic last week, with volunteers responding by holding rapid response trainings to protect their immigrant neighbors, and the Haitian community making contingency plans for children in case their parents were detained or deported.
While the Somalian neighborhoods in Minneapolis similarly targeted by Trump largely consisted of citizens and long-term residents who could not be legally deported, the White House is aggressively trying to strip Haitians of their existing protections — leaving them potentially vulnerable to mass removal. Even as Trump talks about a “softer touch” on immigration after a political backlash to his approach, communities like Springfield are worried the most drastic operations may be yet to come.
Why Haitians are especially vulnerable to Trump’s deportation force
In Springfield, home to an estimated 15,000 Haitians who make up about 25 percent of the population, residents watched with alarm as reports emerged that the Trump administration was planning raids.
And not just any raids, but an operation timed to the expiration of their protections on a specific date: February 3. That was the day that approximately 350,000 Haitians were expected to lose Temporary Protected Status, a legal designation that allows Haitian immigrants to live and work in the US because their home country has been deemed unsafe.
The local Springfield News-Sun first reported on January 27 about secondhand rumblings that an operation could last at least 30 days, and that the federal government had already identified people in town who had removal orders, with discretion to detain additional people they encountered who lacked status. MS Now followed up with a report that the operation could begin as early as the first week of February.
“Deportation to Haiti is a death sentence right now.”
— Guerline Jozef, Haitian Bridge Alliance executive director
Reports of imminent raids drew Guerline Jozef, executive director of the national nonprofit Haitian Bridge Alliance, to Springfield last week. She had been preparing for this day ever since the presidential campaign, and the racist rhetoric that came with it. On Monday, she attended a church service with 700 people who prayed for a favorable court ruling.
“The fire marshal had to come and ask 200 people to leave because we were at capacity,” Jozef said. “That was really beautiful to see how Black and white people, immigrants and nonimmigrants alike, came together standing shoulder to shoulder with the community.”
Then they received a last-second reprieve: A federal court temporarily blocked the administration from ending TPS. In her ruling, District Judge Ana Reyes also validated the Haitian community’s concerns about racist rhetoric, writing that Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem likely made her termination decision “because of hostility to nonwhite immigrants” and failed to follow proper procedure. The ruling cited a 2025 social media post by Noem that said: “I am recommending a full travel ban on every damn country that’s been flooding our nation with killers, leeches, and entitlement junkies. … WE DON’T WANT THEM. NOT ONE.”
That night when the ruling came down, Jozef saw relief on people’s faces.
“Deportation to Haiti is a death sentence right now,” she said.
While TPS was initially put in place in response to a devastating 2010 earthquake, the potential dangers awaiting deportees have multiplied since then. Haiti has held no elections since the assassination of President Jovenel Moïse in 2021. Violent gangs now control vast areas of the country, responsible for murders, kidnappings, and sexual violence. The country has 1.5 million internally displaced people, and another 16,000 have been killed since January 2022, according to the United Nations. The US Department of State has placed Haiti on a level four travel warning, similar to war-torn countries.
In recent years, many Haitians escaped violence by fleeing to South American countries and then traveling north through the Darien Gap to the Southern US border.
“A lot of them have died on the way,” Jozef said. “The few who survived…when we received them at the border, we thought they were miracles to even survive that journey. And when they finally got here, they thought they were safe only for the rug to be pulled from underneath them.”
The latest court decision protecting the community is still fragile. DHS has already stated that it disagrees with the ruling and is determining next steps. Legal experts expect the department to appeal the ruling, and the length of the process and outcome are both unclear.
“It has been a constant fear here since after the presidential debate,” said Viles Dorsainvil, director of the Haitian Support Center in Springfield. “I am not sure [the court ruling] is something to celebrate, because at the end of the day, it’s not a huge victory. The struggles continue, but it’s something that can give us a little time to breathe.”
This isn’t the first time Haitians have faced legal precarity under Trump. The first Trump administration also tried to end TPS for Haiti and several other countries in 2017, and appeared poised to succeed in 2020 after years of federal litigation. After Trump lost the election, however, President Joe Biden took office and extended it.
US deportations to Haiti are ongoing, with 12 ICE flights happening in 2025 — a small number that would increase if TPS ends. Deportation flights are not landing in the main airport in Port-au-Prince because it is closed to US flights due to gangs shooting at planes.
As they sit in legal limbo, Dorsainvil said Haitians in Springfield are afraid to leave the house. “They are reluctant to come out and continue to be cautious, because if they come out on the street, anything can happen to them,” Dorsainvil said.
Grassroots groups are preparing for the worst
As with Minneapolis, volunteers in Springfield are creating a rapid response network to keep their immigrant neighbors safe. A volunteer-run coalition of faith-based groups called G92 has hosted “know your rights” trainings for several months. Even after the court ruling, they hosted another training on Tuesday night.
“We realized we have to do something,” said Marjory Wentworth, an American volunteer with the G92 leadership team who serves on the board of the Haitian Support Center. “They’re targeting people based on the color of their skin and their accent — that’s unconscionable.”
The January killings of Renee Good and Alex Pretti in Minneapolis have only further stoked fears in the community about the dangers an ICE operation could bring. During a recent Zoom meeting, Wentworth said they discussed ordering bulletproof vests.
“This is a new reality,” Dorsainvil said. “If you’re not an immigrant, and you try to support an immigrant, things can happen to you too.”
Ultimately, though, Haitian immigrants have little control over their time in the US, because there are few pathways to stay long term.
The Haitian Support Center continues to coordinate with other groups to mobilize volunteers to bring groceries to people who are afraid to leave the house. Some people were laid off before the court ruling, because employers were unsure of their status, so the Center is providing rental assistance until they find work. Dorsainvil said attorneys are on hand to help parents develop a plan in case they are detained.
“They’re telling them to give guardianship to a person they trust in case they are being detained or deported, for those kids to have a person to look after them,” he said.
Immigration attorney Inna Simakovsky is providing legal help to Haitians in Springfield. She has been receiving calls for months from groups who were concerned about kids whose parents were facing deportation.
“The possibility of TPS going away for Haitians is pretty good, but hopefully it’ll take a long time,” she said, adding that applying for asylum is another way that Haitians can try to stay in the United States.
Jozef’s Haitian Bridge Alliance began outreach to Haitian communities across the country in the run-up to Trump taking office, warning them to make a family plan for children if their parents were detained.
“We realized that [if TPS expires] this will be the largest family separation in modern US history,” Jozef said. “As long as they have no pathway to permanent status, the fear of family separation, the fear of deportation, continues to loom over them.”
Haitians have bipartisan support — but few legal paths to change their status
Although Ohio decisively voted for Trump, local and state officials are showing support for Haitians, in part due to their large contribution to the economy. Springfield Mayor Rob Rue said in a statement that the ruling “provides clarity and stability for families who are already part of our community. It reflects the reality that many individuals are working, paying taxes, raising families and contributing every day to the life of our city.”
Before the court ruling, Ohio’s Republican governor, Mike DeWine, who is from Springfield and runs a school in Haiti, called removing TPS for Haitians a mistake. “You have a whole bunch of people, thousands of people in Ohio who are working, making a living, supporting their families, helping the economy grow,” he told reporters.
DeWine said the Ohio State Highway Patrol would be ready to support local police in case of a surge in immigration agents, and called on agents to follow good policing practices. Ohio lacks local sanctuary laws, meaning local law enforcement can cooperate with federal immigration operations, including by handing over people with removal orders who end up in local jails.
Ultimately, though, Haitian immigrants have little control over their time in the US, because there are few pathways to stay long term.
“You cannot plan for the future as an immigrant here, because you don’t know when things can happen to you,” Dorsainvil said. “You just live day by day.”
