The streets of Little Haiti in Brooklyn seem quieter these days, as the immigration status of thousands of Haitians have been threatened by President Donald Trump.
Mubarak, a manager at the Double Touch Car Wash on the corner of Clarendon Road and Rogers Avenue, who only wanted to be identified by his first name, said “out of the blue,” all of the Haitian employees were gone.
“When you’ve invested almost half a million… and you don’t have workers to work, everything comes to a stand still,” he said.
Mubarak said the employees disappeared on and around Feb. 20, or when President Trump announced that he would end the Temporary Protected Status for Haitians in August. The TPS designations are assigned on a country-by-country basis, and allow people fleeing natural disasters, war or other dangerous conditions to get temporary residency in the U.S.
Currently, there are about 520,000 Haitians who are protected under TPS, of which about 5,400 live in New York City, according to the most recent estimate from 2018, although that number is likely higher now.
While the announcement does not mean that all Haitian immigrants could be deported, it is creating confusion and fear, according to advocates and Haitian immigrants.
Brooklyn City Council Member Farah Louis, who rallied outside of City Hall on Feb. 27, said the change to the TPS status was “about cruelty.”
“We will not remain silent while Haitian families in Brooklyn and beyond are threatened," she said. "The Trump Administration’s cruel decision to terminate TPS for Haitian nationals ignores Haiti’s dire reality and puts families who have built their lives here in jeopardy."
Dolores Murat, the founder Dodor Services, a nonprofit that helps Haitian immigrants assimilate to life in the U.S. by providing English classes, tax preparation and know-your-rights information workshops, said many Haitian immigrants feel “unsettled.”
“They don’t feel any stability,” Murat said. Chatter among residents include the fear that Trump may “change his mind at any moment," and declare that "everybody is illegal.’”
Dodor’s English classes shrunk to the point where three weeks ago, the nonprofit decided to stop offering them, according to Pascal Antoine, a volunteer.
“We had to stop because… people were not coming out,” Antoine said.
Antoine said the Flatbush area doesn't seem as vibrant as it used to be and feels more subdued, especially on a Friday night.
Murat said residents' fear that Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents could be on patrol in the area has had a direct impact on the number of people seeking help from the organization.
During a recent know-your-rights seminar, many attendees would only come in if they could cover their face with a mask, Antoine said.
“We've even had some people in our English classes contact us through WhatsApp, letting us know ‘We're in Canada,’” he added.
Recently, the nonprofit has turned to social media to continue its work. Dodor’s TikTok is full of comical videos educating people on how to interact with ICE agents. In one, Antoine’s character is approached by an ICE agent on the street who asks him where he is going. In another, Murat’s character, an ICE agent, knocks on the door of a home and asks who is home. The videos explain how someone should respond and what their rights are.
“Clips that use humor have gotten really popular,” Antoine said.
Murat lamented the impact of "TikTok University" on the spread of immigration information, believing it creates too much confusion.
Murat, a first-generation Haitian immigrant, said the TPS halt has had a chilling effect: "My people wouldn't come here and succumb to this humiliation that they're going through.”
