Temporary Protected Status in the U.S.

By Liam Piper

Former Senator Alan Simpson (R-WY) once said, "There is nothing so permanent in US immigration law as a temporary status” (Frelick, 2020). The senator was referring to the slurry of policies used by the U.S to render immigrants on temporary and insecure legal statuses. One prime example is Temporary Protected Status (TPS), which more than 300,000 migrants from countries like El Salvador, Honduras, and Nicaragua have lived under for over two decades, even though it was initially only designed to offer short-term relief (Wilson, 2021; Frelick, 2020).

TPS, created as a part of the Immigration Act of 1990, is a discretionary immigration tool designated by the Secretary of Homeland Security to certain groups of migrants fleeing disasters in their home countries (Wilson, 2024). Migrants designated for TPS can apply for a temporary stay of deportation and a work permit. TPS is designated for nationalities who face war, famine, natural disaster, or other dangerous conditions in their home countries. TPS may be designated at any time after a disaster has occurred in an origin country. However, only individuals who can prove they have been residing in the U.S. before the initial designation date, and assuming they meet several other requirements, are eligible to receive it (Harrington, 2018).

TPS is an example of liminal legality, which is a concept described by Cecilia Menjivar to encapsulate individuals who are "not fully documented or undocumented, but often straddling both [categories]” (Menjivar, 2006). Liminal legality is not a legal definition, but it is an apt way to describe those who have precarious and unstable legal protection and lack social benefits guaranteed to other citizens or migrants (Menjivar and Abrego, 2012).

TPS does not provide access to many social benefits, even though migrants living on it contribute to those same programs through taxes. TPS holders, 95% of whom were employed as of 2023, pay billions of dollars a year in taxes that go toward U.S social security programs (Wong, 2023). Yet, they cannot access most federal public assistance programs, including SNAP, TANF, SSI, and Medicaid (Lacarte, Gelatte, and Podplesky, 2024). Additionally, TPS holders are ineligible to receive federal financial aid, such as Pell grants, to attend school. 

This acute lack of a social safety net would be tolerable if individuals were only asked to live on TPS for a short time and then given a path to legal permanent residency and a more stable legal protection. However, oftentimes TPS holders cannot obtain such a path, and therefore have become stranded on the benefit for over two decades. Indeed, as of March 2025, TPS has been in effect for 15 years for Haitians, 24 years for Salvadorans, 26 years for Hondurans and Nicaraguans, and 33 years for Somalis (Wilson, 2024).

TPS designations have become prolonged for several reasons. The first is that oftentimes, the crisis that induces a TPS designation in the first place seems temporary at first, but often becomes prolonged. TPS is initially designated for only 6–18 months at a time. However, once that period expires, the Secretary of Homeland Security may restart that time frame by extending the designation. The 2001 earthquakes in El Salvador were the reason for the initial designation for TPS, but their lasting damage paved the way for an infinite set of extensions. Similar situations in Haiti, Honduras, and Nicaragua have also led to long-term TPS holders (Schoenholtz, 2019).

Individuals also spend lengthy amounts of time on TPS because of a 2021 Supreme Court ruling that said individuals who initially entered the country illegally cannot adjust to legal permanent residency even with a valid immigration petition. If those same TPS holders tried to leave and re-enter the country legally, they would likely automatically incur a ban of 3–10 years. 

Although qualifying for asylum would circumvent the barrier for individuals, even those who entered illegally, very few TPS holders meet the narrow definition of an asylee under U.S. law. Only individuals who can prove they have been persecuted "on account of race, religion, nationality, membership in a particular social group, or political opinion" are eligible (Menjivar, 2000). This notably leaves out individuals fleeing devastation from natural disasters or general fear of death in war or conflict (Schoenholtz 2019). 

With limited pathways out of TPS, many individuals have few options to change their status. All the while, they become more ingrained and essential members of society. 

TPS holders have used their benefits to settle down in the U.S, marry and have children. As of 2017, Honduran, Haitian, and Salvadoran TPS holders had an estimated 273 thousand U.S.-born children, and 6-10 percent have been married to a legal resident (Warren and Kerwin 2017).

Another testament to their liminality is the fact that TPS holders are constantly at risk of losing their status. Committing two or more misdemeanors, which can be crimes as low-level as trespassing, shoplifting, or minor drug possession, automatically disqualifies an individual from holding TPS (Block, Davenport, and Quinn, 2023). Additionally, TPS holders must reapply for their status each time their country's designation is extended. For nationalities like Salvadorans, who have had their TPS extended 14 times since 2001, the re-application process becomes a significant burden (Menjivar and Abrego, 2012). 

For these reasons, and because TPS holders constantly worry that their TPS designation will be terminated, it is a tragedy that individuals must live on this status for decades. 

To address the issue, politicians introduced the Dream and Promise Acts of 2019, 2021, 2023, and 2025, which would have allowed TPS holders who have lived in the U.S for over three years to adjust to LPR. This bill would have effectively ended long-term TPS holders, but all four versions failed in the Senate, demonstrating the difficulty of passing such legislation in the current political climate.

The alternative, one might think, would be to end TPS entirely. However, ending TPS would negatively impact current TPS holders and the U.S economy. A survey using estimates reflecting population sizes and economic contributions at the end of 2022 estimated that the total economic output of TPS migrants was $21 billion, with $5.2 billion paid in taxes and $16 billion in purchasing power. These economic gains come from TPS holders utilizing their work permit to find jobs more suited to their skills, enabling them to make higher wages (Wong, 2023). These higher wages also have a wide variety of positive impacts on individuals and their families living on TPS.

Additionally, a 2021 study from the American Immigration Council found that TPS holders have higher rates of entrepreneurship than similarly aged U.S. workers. These self-employed individuals start businesses, generate additional employment, and help rebuild declining American towns. 

In Mount Olive, a small town in North Carolina, thousands of Haitian migrants arrived after being designated for TPS in 2010. They bought vacant homes, opened small businesses, and ultimately helped to revitalize the town's declining downtown area.

The TPS population has recently increased with many new designations under the Biden administration. However, the Trump administration has tried to negate most of those recent designations, and has even targeted long-term TPS holders. The fate of hundreds of thousands of TPS holders, many who have lived in the U.S for decades, is now more uncertain than ever.

To create a durable solution to TPS, the U.S should not simply revoke the policy for hundreds of thousands of individuals as the Trump administration has tried to do. Instead, it should enact a version of the Dream and Promise Act to allow long-term TPS holders a pathway to adjust to Lawful Permanent Residency (LPR). 

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Note from the author: I would like to extend my heartfelt gratitude to Dr. Rebecca Galemba, the most generous thesis advisor I could have asked for. Thank you for your support!

This paper is a condensed version of Senior Thesis in International Studies, supervised by CIPR Director, Professor Rebecca Galemba, Josef Korbel School of International Studies.