NEW YORK – Who will be there each morning with Solange French’s eggs at breakfast, and who will be ready with soup or fish at lunch? When the 91-year-old needs help in the shower, who will rush to her side, and when it’s time for a doctor’s appointment, who will take her? Who will do the laundry or buy the groceries or clean the house?
Until now, the answer has been a devoted home health aide from Haiti named Martha Nelson. However, with recent changes in immigration policy from the Supreme Court, Nelson’s ability to stay in the U.S. is now uncertain, leaving French worried about her future care.
“She’s with me all the time,” says French. “Life would be impossible without her.”
This situation highlights a growing concern as the Trump administration rolls back protections for many immigrants, including those from Haiti. This affects not only caregivers like Nelson but also the older adults and disabled people who depend on them for daily living support.
Across the nation, care homes and home health agencies are preparing for the potential loss of workers with Temporary Protected Status (TPS). TPS is a special status that allows individuals from certain countries to stay in the U.S. due to unsafe conditions in their homelands. This change comes at a time when the caregiving industry is already facing staffing shortages.
For businesses, losing these workers could hurt their finances and add stress to their remaining staff. For clients like French, it poses a risk to their daily lives and well-being.
“They have become like family,” says Katy Sanchez, a resident of a group home for disabled individuals in Nanuet, New York. The facility, run by The Arc Rockland, anticipates losing 19 caregivers due to TPS changes, compounding losses from previous immigration policy shifts. “If they are forced to leave, it would be devastating.”
The Supreme Court ruling last month allowed the Trump administration to end TPS. Initially, this affects 350,000 Haitians and 6,000 Syrians, but it could extend to a broader group of 1.3 million people from 17 countries.
The ruling has led to confusion and uncertainty. Immigration officials granted extensions for TPS holders, but recent guidance suggests that TPS is officially over. Some legal experts argue that work authorization should remain until further court decisions are made.
The Department of Homeland Security even referenced a 1998 song in their announcement about TPS expiration: “It’s closing time, which means you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.”
Some employers, worried about legal repercussions, have begun laying off TPS holders, much to the dismay of clients who rely on them for care.
Anna Fischbein, an 87-year-old Holocaust survivor from Sunny Isles, Florida, cherished the visits from her Haitian health aide, who worked with her for a decade. However, Jewish Community Services of South Florida terminated her aide along with 17 others when their TPS expired. “I lost not only a lady working for me,” Fischbein recalls, tears in her eyes, “I lost a friend.”
In fact, immigrants play a crucial role in the U.S. workforce, especially in caregiving. According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, about 1 in 5 workers in the U.S. is foreign-born, with one-third of home health aides being immigrants.
For many elderly or disabled individuals, their caregivers are not just service providers; they are vital lifelines. A dedicated caregiver can prevent institutionalization and offer essential support, companionship, and advocacy.
“They are the first people they see when they wake up in the morning and the last ones before they go to bed,” explains Simone Smith, vice president of human resources at Cabrini of Westchester, a nursing home in New York that employs eight Haitians under TPS.
Similar to other facilities, Cabrini is preparing to find replacement staff and is asking remaining workers to take extra shifts. With a workforce that is about 75% immigrant, there’s a feeling of hopelessness among those affected by the TPS changes.
For many Haitians losing TPS, the choices are grim: They can either try to remain in the U.S. and risk deportation or return to a homeland plagued by violence and poverty. “I’m afraid all the time,” says a Haitian nursing home worker in Brooklyn who wished to remain anonymous due to safety concerns. “I pay taxes. I’m a good person. … All I want is to work. When you work, you are a person.”
Families like French’s are left wondering what will happen next. Outside a modest brick house in Queens, Nelson stands guard as French steps through her door. Their bond, forged over years of companionship and care, exemplifies what’s at stake.
Both women made the journey from Port-au-Prince to New York, albeit decades apart. French arrived in 1970 and built a life as a hairdresser and seamstress, while Nelson came after the devastating earthquake in 2010, having previously run a butcher shop in Haiti. She started working for French three years ago after French broke her hip.
While both women felt welcomed when they first arrived in the U.S., French expresses sadness over the changing attitudes towards immigrants. “America is a good country,” she says, “but it has changed.”
Nelson not only helps with chores but also provides companionship. They share meals, watch the news, and talk about their families. On weekends, Nelson checks in on French to ensure she’s taking care of herself.
“On my days off, I think about her,” Nelson admits.
French considers Nelson family, and Nelson sees her as a mother figure, despite their playful arguments about their relationship. “You’re not like my daughter,” French insists. “You’re like my sister.”
For now, they continue their routine, acutely aware that each day could be Nelson’s last. She carries her work authorization with her, worried about possible encounters with authorities. Every Sunday, she kneels in church, praying for guidance and protection. She fears for both her future and that of French, her cherished companion. “It makes me feel depressed,” Nelson says. “It could be difficult for her without me.”
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Salomon reported from Miami.
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Matt Sedensky can be reached at msedensky@ap.org and https://x.com/sedensky
