When Ten Georges left Haiti for the United States in 2023, large portions of the country — including his hometown of Port-au-Prince — were under the control of armed gangs that were constantly trying to recruit or kill anyone who stood in their way. (Georges asked to be identified by a nickname instead of his given first name)
“If I go back, I think I can stay in Haiti [for] two months, then they might kill me,” the 27-year-old said.
That’s why he still hasn’t considered returning, even though the U.S. Supreme Court terminated Temporary Protected Status in June, leaving Georges and more than 300,000 other Haitians in the country vulnerable to arrest or deportation.
Between January and July, U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement personnel were arresting around 10 Haitian citizens living in Georgia each month on average. Community leaders told Capital B Atlanta they’ve noticed a significant increase in the number of Haitian people arrested by ICE since the end of June.
Georges immigrated after graduating from a university in Haiti with a degree in politics. His mother, sister, and brother stayed in Port-au-Prince, but he still fears arrest and deportation.
“When I left, it was so, so bad,” he told Capital B Atlanta. “Sometimes when I’m talking to [my family], they say, ‘You know it’s 10 times worse than when you left.’”
Haiti has dealt with political and economic instability for decades, but when President Jovenel Moïse was assassinated in 2021, the subsequent power vacuum was filled by armed gangs. According to a United Nations report, these gangs have sustained themselves largely through extortions, kidnappings, arms smuggling, and drug trafficking. Since 2022, gangs have killed more than 16,000 people and displaced over 1.5 million residents.
Under TPS, many Haitians came to Georgia. For the past 16 years, they were able to obtain work authorization and live freely without the fear of deportation that many other immigrant groups face. In that time, metro Atlanta has become home to the fifth-largest Haitian population in the country.
A helping hand
For the past 20 years, the Rev. Mardochee Pardieu, who emigrated to Brooklyn, New York, in the late 1990s, has been working with the Good Samaritan Haitian Alliance Church in Gwinnett County.
“Our community always has newcomers coming [that are] fleeing a certain crisis in Haiti,” Pardieu said.
He became the pastor of ministries in 2017 and began overseeing the church’s work assisting immigrant families with everything from immigration paperwork to enrolling kids in school.
For the past few years, Pardieu and the church have been active in welcoming a new set of immigrants who came to the U.S. under a humanitarian parole program created by the Biden administration in 2023. The program allowed people from Cuba, Nicaragua, Haiti, and Venezuela who had a U.S. sponsor and could pass a background check to live and work freely for two years.
Georges was able to immigrate thanks to an aunt who sponsored him, and he joined Good Samaritan shortly after.
“I was working in manufacturing warehouses, trying to understand [American] society, to know my rights,” Georges said of his first few years in the U.S. “I’ve been in love and [now] married.”
When Donald Trump won the November 2024 presidential election, Pardieu saw the writing on the wall for some of his most vulnerable parishioners.
“The Lord has blessed us with some level of measure of vision, and [ability] to understand and quickly anticipate [changes],” Pardieu said.
When the Supreme Court in May 2025 allowed the Trump administration to end the humanitarian parole program that had allowed 530,000 immigrants, including 213,000 from Haiti, to enter the country legally, Pardieu had already advised church members who came under the program to apply for TPS. This allowed them to maintain work authorization.
Davilson, who asked to be identified only by his first name, came to the U.S. from Haiti in 2023. He was sponsored by his sister, who is a citizen, and was one of the people who benefitted from Pardieu’s foresight.
In Haiti, the 32-year-old worked as a mechanic, but when he arrived in Georgia jobs were hard to come by. The church helped him find work, first at a Burlington Warehouse and then at a meatpacking plant.
Eventually, Davilson hoped to find mechanic work at a large company where he can learn new skills and build up his understanding of the business before he opens his own mechanic shop.
“For me, I want to have everybody around be comfortable and to create more jobs so people can work,” he said.
A wrench was thrown in his plans last summer when the humanitarian parole program ended. He considered going to Canada but didn’t qualify without a relative there to sponsor him. Things got worse in June when TPS was terminated.
Returning to Haiti isn’t an option he’s considering.
“If you are deported, you are going from a system that works to one that doesn’t work. In the U.S. [we’ve] been dealing with a lot of anxiety, stress, and fear, but in Haiti [we’d] be dealing with gang members everyday,” Davilson said.
His hometown is four hours from Port-au-Prince, but he said the gangs are just as prevalent. A lot of his family is now living outside Haiti in North America and Europe. Of his relatives still living in Haiti, the majority are older and have limited mobility.
“Sometimes the [cellular] network is good, sometimes it’s not. Now the system is down. It will be two weeks since I have talked with them,” Davilson said.
With the help of the Good Samaritan Haitian Alliance Church, Davilson has a pending application for asylum. Since the end of TPS, however, he, like many other Haitian immigrants, has felt uneasy about the future.
“It is very stressful because I’m not working and I’m fearful when I’m outside,” he said
Davilson and Georges have been in counseling provided by the church to help them cope with feeling anxious about their immigration status and frustrations about no longer being able to work.
“My wife [was] born here so she’s able to work. But as a man, as a Haitian man, when you can’t provide, it’s a big issue,” Georges said.
Georges has been volunteering at the church. In Haiti he’d studied English and has become nearly fluent, so he assists Pardieu in helping church members to understand and file appropriate documents with federal immigration officials.
Lack of work has also forced Georges and his wife to pause their plans to start a family.
“I can’t have a child right now because I don’t know my destiny. I can’t be in the situation to leave the baby here as a parent or to go back with the baby where our lives can be endangered,” he said.
Even though his immigration status is still up in the air, Georges considers himself lucky. As the spouse of a citizen, he was able to apply for permanent residency last year.
He said he loves his country and is proud to be Haitian. In an ideal world, Georges said he’d like to live in Haiti full time with his wife, start a family, and visit the U.S. occasionally for vacation. But right now, he knows that isn’t possible.
“Sometimes I feel like being Black, immigrant, and Haitian — that is the worst thing,” he said.
Read More:
- Haitians in Metro Atlanta Frightened as U.S. Begins Immigrant Deportations
- For Atlanta Haitians, World Cup Pride Gives Way to Deportation Fears
- U.S. House Votes to Extend Protected Status for Haitians, but Concerns Remain
- Amid ICE Sweeps and Travel Bans, Here’s How to Support Black Immigrants in Atlanta
