“My mother received an email this morning saying her permit was revoked.”
14ymedio, Havana, 13 June 2025 — The call came early. “You have to come back at 3:00 pm because we’re short two employees,” she was told. The woman, who had just finished a night shift, didn’t even have time to sleep. When she arrived, she learned that her colleagues hadn’t just been fired, but had lost their US work permits. And they weren’t the only ones.
Many Cubans are waiting in the hope of being able to benefit from the Adjustment Act, since they did not apply for political asylum. Others fear they won’t have time and are preparing psychologically and materially to bid farewell to the American dream and return to the Cuban nightmare.
“I already bought a power generator for my house in Cuba, in case I get deported.”
María Laura has already started packing her bags, both physically and mentally: “I already bought a power generator for my house in Cuba, in case I get deported,” she told 14ymedio. “I also sent an electric motorcycle, a washing machine, and other appliances by courier.” She isn’t interested in starting over in another Latin American country, nor does she have any way to go to Europe. Miami was the closest thing she had to escape the misery on the island without dying of homesickness.
“My mother received an email this morning saying her permit was revoked,” another Cuban resident in the US told 14ymedio. “She officially lost her job and now she’ll have to wait quietly for the Adjustment Act to expire,” he says, with a mixture of resignation and anger.
But the wait, in this case, is anything but peaceful. “All of this wouldn’t be happening if I had applied for political asylum in time, like the Haitians, Venezuelans, and Nicaraguans did, who don’t have a law that benefits them. But since my mother wanted to visit Cuba, she refused to do so,” he explains. His fear has several facets: “On the one hand, if she applied for asylum, she wouldn’t be able to visit her family on the island. But she also feared that, at any moment, the regime would place her on the list of those ‘regulated’, those who are prohibited from returning.” Being able to hug her family on both shores from time to time outweighed any legal calculations. And that desire, now, may cost her dearly.
Many migrants have been left in a kind of migratory limbo.
With parole suspended and a tense political climate since January 2025, many migrants have been left in a kind of immigration limbo. The Cuban Adjustment Act—that lifeline that has allowed thousands of Cubans to regularize their status after 365 days in the US—remains in place, but new regulations are closing the gap. Previously, waiting that year without requesting asylum seemed like the logical option. Today, it has become a trap. An expert consulted by this newspaper says: “People grew complacent, believing nothing would change. But it did.”
Cubans, at least for now, still have a legal option: the Adjustment Act. But that window isn’t automatic. “If you don’t have legal entry or haven’t managed to complete the year without conflict, the situation becomes more complicated. And even if there’s no immediate deportation, the fear of being expelled becomes a constant looming shadow,” warns the expert. Venezuelans, Haitians, and Nicaraguans, on the other hand, have political asylum as an escape route, because for them, there is no “Adjustment.”
The atmosphere in Cuban communities like Hialeah, Union City, and parts of Houston is one of anxiety. Some lawyers speak of “dozens of panicked clients,” others of “overwhelmed waiting lists.” Law offices are unable to cope. Fear now has a postal address: that letter that arrives and changes everything. “First they tell you they’re taking away your work permit. Then comes the silence. And you start to fear that the next thing you’ll get is a deportation order,” says another migrant who does not want to be identified.
The dilemma: ask for asylum and risk not being able to return to Cuba, or hope that the Adjustment will arrive before the collapse
But many Cubans remain trapped in the dilemma: seek asylum and risk being unable to return to Cuba, or hope that the Adjustment Agreement will arrive before the collapse. Meanwhile, the country they left behind remains impoverished, militarized, and more authoritarian than ever.
And in this limbo, time is running out. Every day without permission is a day without income. Every letter from the government is a threat. Every conversation with a lawyer ends with a list of urgent documents. Some have already started selling their things. Others have taken refuge in friends’ houses. No one knows what will happen in July, August, or December. But everyone knows that Cuba, for now, is not an option.
“I didn’t want to apply for asylum because I was thinking of returning to Cuba,” the unemployed woman’s son repeats. And his voice no longer sounds reproachful. It sounds like pain. That mixture of guilt and sadness that marks the story of so many families divided by the sea, by politics, and by waiting.
____________
COLLABORATE WITH OUR WORK: The 14ymedio team is committed to practicing serious journalism that reflects Cuba’s reality in all its depth. Thank you for joining us on this long journey. We invite you to continue supporting us by becoming a member of 14ymedio now. Together we can continue transforming journalism in Cuba.
