In all, more than 10,000 Haitians in the Massachusetts workforce who contributed roughly $480 million a year to the local economy are being forced out, according to the immigration policy organization FWD.us. Many of them cared for residents who are elderly, disabled, or in need of long-term care. And those workers are taking tens of millions of dollars worth of skills and resources they gained in Massachusetts with them — provided largely by federal and state dollars, as well as philanthropic grants — at a time when the need for the work they provided is expanding.
Jude, who asked to be referred to by his first name to protect his safety, said his dream had always been to come to the United States. After he arrived in Massachusetts, he took sewing classes at his church and got help with English and cash assistance from a refugee organization. He soon found a job making protective gear for firefighters, earning enough money to buy a car and rent a room.
“The only thing that I can think of was the way the country has turned,” he said, speaking in Haitian Creole, through an interpreter.
In Canada, he already has four jobs lined up — including one at a local branch of the factory he worked for in Massachusetts.
Sabyne Denaud, a Haitian immigrant and US citizen who works for the International Institute of New England, which assisted Jude, knows of at least 65 Haitians in Massachusetts who have left for Canada. The institute has supported 13,000 legal Haitian migrants over the past three years, providing $60 million in federally funded cash assistance and investing nearly $13 million in state and federal dollars to help them secure housing, access health care, learn English, and build job skills.
“It’s a very twisted policy for the United States of America, and the state of Massachusetts, and individual donors and volunteers, to invest in people and then have all we’ve invested in them be taken to another country,” said Jeff Thielman, chief executive of the International Institute of New England. “It takes a lot of effort inside our organization and others to get people ready … and that is now benefiting Canada. That is not what the taxpayers want.”
Massachusetts has provided immigration-related legal assistance to more than 17,000people in the past three years, along with skills training, English classes, and employer connections. The state didn’t have cost estimates or breakdowns for Haitians, but a spokesperson noted that the termination of TPS is “devastating” for the economy.
“It undermines the work our administration has been doing from day one to make sure all Massachusetts residents — including immigrants — have the skills and training they need to succeed and contribute to our economy,” Karissa Hand said in a statement.
Returning to Haiti voluntarily isn’t an option for many migrants. Parts of the country have been overrun by gang violence, and more than half the country’s population is expected to require humanitarian assistance this year. Deportation flights from the US began in early August, and the Trump administration is planning to ramp up flights to once a week, according to news reports. Flights will land in the city of Cap-Haitien because the capital, Port-au-Prince, is considered too dangerous. Just last week, at least 47 people were killed and more than 50 others kidnapped during an attack in a nearby community.
The White House has noted that it “generously made free flights available” for Haitians ordered to leave the US, referring to the offer of a plane ticket and $2,600 in cash for those who self-deport using an app, but did not address the deportation flights to Haiti.
Advocates supporting returning immigrants have said there are no government programs in Haiti able to assist the 350,000 participants in the TPS program.
Claiming asylum in Canada isn’t easy, however. Haitians must have a family member living there or qualify for other limited exceptions; if they don’t, they’ll be handed over to US authorities. In the first seven months of the year, 827 asylum claimants were sent back.
Canada doesn’t deport people to Haiti, but returning them to a country where they have lost legal status amounts to “deportation by proxy,” said Frantz Andre, coordinator of the Action Committee for People Without Status.
Those who aren’t sent back to the US can still face difficulties. Haitians who previously made asylum claims in the US are ineligible for asylum in Canada, putting them in a kind of “legal limbo,” said Julia Sande, a lawyer at Amnesty International Canada. They can apply for work permits but don’t have a clear path to permanent legal status, which would allow them to become citizens, vote, or sponsor other relatives. They can apply for permanent residency on humanitarian and compassionate grounds, but the process can take more than 10 years, possibly decades, due to the backlog.
Canada has become less accepting of immigrants in recent years, Andre said. Canadian border agents are increasingly acting like American agents, Andre said, seeking out undocumented people in order to deport them. Last year, 56 percent of Canadians said the country let in too many immigrants, a more than 20 percentage point increase from 2022, according to the Environics Institute for Survey Research.
“In many ways, we are the 51st state,” said Andre, referring to the growing anti-immigrant sentiment in his country.
Some advocates are calling on the Canadian government to create a special program for Haitians leaving the United States, given that many are skilled workers.
Geraldyne, who was a social worker in Haiti, became a certified nursing assistant at Mass General Hospital after arriving in the Boston area legally three years ago. Her husband, Pierre, a former teacher, trained as a carpenter and worked as an inventory manager for Flik Hospitality Group. They took English classes, rented an apartment, and had another baby. “We were on the path of a stable life,” said Geraldyne, who asked to be identified by her first name for her safety.
But fearful of the Trump administration’s crackdown on immigrants, they left for Quebec last summer. Now they are crowded into a family member’s home, living in legal limbo. Pierre and Geraldyne found jobs, and their 8-year-old son, who learned Spanish when they fled first to the Dominican Republic, then English in the United States, is grappling with French.
“There is nothing sure,” said Geraldyne, 34.
Geraldyne and Pierre got job training and studied English through JVS Boston, which has invested roughly $23 million in more than 3,400 Haitian clients over the past three years.
Workforce growth in Massachusetts has come almost exclusively from immigration, said Kira Khazatsky, chief executive of JVS Boston, and now that the border is essentially closed, new strategies are essential.
“You’re losing a pretty significant percentage of people that are willing to do this work well,” she said. “Things are going to get desperate.”
This story was produced by the Globe’s Money, Power, Inequality team, which covers the racial wealth gap in Greater Boston. You can sign up for the newsletter here.
Katie Johnston can be reached at katie.johnston@globe.com. Follow her @ktkjohnston.
