TPS ends for Salvadorans on Wednesday. What this means for those living on Long Island

Gladys Morales’ professional life has revolved around caring for others after fleeing El Salvador’s civil war in the '90s for better opportunities in the United States. She left behind young children to work as a babysitter for two to three families. She cleaned houses and, most recently, worked as a home health aide for senior citizens.

The Hempstead resident, now 70, needs to know if her adopted nation is standing by her. The federal humanitarian program known as Temporary Protected Status, which allows her to legally live and work in the United States, is scheduled to sunset for El Salvador on Wednesday, leaving her in a precarious state.

"I lost my insurance. I lost my job," she said. "I lost my retirement, so I lost everything."

About 170,000 Salvadorans across the country with TPS are navigating an uncertain future. When the program ends after 25 years, some are hoping for an eleventh-hour reprieve from the Trump administration that would allow them to legally stay in the nation where they have lived, raised children and worked for decades.

"They have a lot of trust in American institutions because American institutions have had their back, have supported them, and have allowed them to build a life here," said Natalia Navas, an extension associate at the School of Industrial and Labor Relations at Cornell University whose work has focused on immigration from Latin America. "And I guess that’s where a lot of the disappointment and sadness comes from. Because how could we have trusted our institutions to protect us, and we have contributed, and now we’re being discarded?"

"We went from being essential workers, many of us during the pandemic, to now being discarded," added Navas, who is Salvadoran.

Salvadorans make up Long Island’s largest Hispanic group, according to data from the U.S. Census Bureau, with an estimated 60,670 people in Nassau and 93,062 in Suffolk. Island communities with significant Salvadoran populations include Brentwood, Uniondale and Huntington Station.

Fears, uncertainty with end of TPS

Not all Salvadorans have TPS, but the program's potential end and heightened immigration enforcement have created uncertainty that has forced people to scramble, community leaders said.

Some older residents, who have worked in the United States for decades, fear losing their Social Security benefits and are paying penalties for withdrawing money early from their 401(k)s. Some parents fear being separated from their U.S.-born children, and mom-and-pop shops and restaurants have seen business drop because people are afraid to come in. 

"We're going to lose some of the best people, and we're gonna suffer the consequences of losing good people, hardworking people," said Suffolk County Legis. Samuel Gonzalez (D-Brentwood), whose district includes several largely Latino communities such as Brentwood.

A 2025 study from the Penn Wharton Budget Model found that TPS workers across the country contributed about $35 billion to the U.S. Gross Domestic Product, with heavy emphasis in the construction, manufacturing and transportation sectors. In New York alone, TPS workers made up 7.6% of the workforce, generating $2.8 billion for the GDP. The study found that roughly 76% of all TPS workers are employed full time, compared with about 60% of U.S.-born workers.

"What's happening to them is just particularly cruel, and we hope that the government can ... not let this happen," said Areeba Thakir Chicvak, director of legal services at the Central America Refugee Center (CARECEN). But "we can just only hope for that."

Trump administration officials, however, have often noted that TPS is a temporary program not meant to go on indefinitely.

Department of Homeland Security Secretary Markwayne Mullin said at a news conference in Manhattan on Tuesday that the administration is evaluating whether "can these individuals go home; are they an asset back to their countries?"

"We will help you to go home or we will force you to go home," Mullin said, after being asked about the end of TPS for El Salvador. "One of the two."

Hopes for extension

Despite the administration’s messaging, some TPS holders still hope the designation will continue. The Trump administration should have posted an official notice in the Federal Register, where the U.S. government publishes upcoming rules, about ending the program by July. It has not, which could trigger a six-month extension, lawyers and local politicians said.

However, the U.S. Supreme Court's majority opinion on TPS for Haitians and Syrians found that the judicial branch did not oversee administrative decisions about the humanitarian initiative, which was put in place in 1990 under the Republican administration of George H.W. Bush.

During his second term, President Donald Trump has allowed TPS to lapse for several countries, including Haiti, Syria and Honduras. A day before Lebanon’s TPS was set to expire, the Department of Homeland Security extended the provision until Nov. 27.

For TPS holders from El Salvador, Rep. Tom Suozzi (D-Glen Cove) is advocating for a two-year extension of the policy, along with a "parole in place" program similar to an initiative that allows relatives of military personnel to remain in the country.

"For most Salvadoran TPS holders, termination of TPS will result in the immediate loss of lawful status and separation from their U.S. citizen children and other family members, as well as detention and deportation," Suozzi said in a letter to Mullins. "Therefore, if you choose to terminate TPS for El Salvador, I urge you to provide a smooth transition for TPS holders by adopting a 'parole in place' policy and an orderly transition period of two years. "

For nearly 35 years, Pupuseria Carmelina has sat at the corner of Jerusalem and Uniondale avenues in Hempstead. Over the years, the neighborhood has grown more Latino. But what hasn't changed is the few women who work away in a hot kitchen in the back to make pupusas — the national dish of El Salvador.

Construction workers, families and others trickle into the restaurant, ordering pupusas by the dozens, but business has noticeably slowed, with people coming more at night out of fear of immigration enforcement. Among those who come to the restaurant, some people talk about the potential change in designation, said Carlos Coreas, who owns the restaurant with his mother. 

The loss of business hurts, Coreas said, but so does the fear that permeates the community.

"I know some families — they don’t come here anymore," said Coreas, who is Salvadoran. "They are afraid to go out and eat."

Staying under the radar

Community leaders say people have not left the house, shopping for food only through delivery services. Lawmakers said they had heard from bus companies that might have to let go of dozens of drivers ahead of the start of the school year, or from construction firms that might have to lay off a handful of employees.

"If you remove work permits for these individuals, especially in the construction trades, it's going to slow down the projects. It's going to increase the cost of building. ... It's going to have a ripple effect on so many different facets of our everyday lives," said State Sen. Monica Martinez (D-Brentwood), who was born in El Salvador and came to the United States as a child.

El Salvador’s TPS designation has a long history lined with civil war, natural disasters and other strife. In 1990, it was the first country to receive TPS amid a civil war — a designation that lasted until 1992.

In 2001, the country was granted TPS again, this time due to earthquakes that displaced about 17% of the country’s population, court records show. 

Since then, the designation has remained in place across the Bush, Biden Obama and Trump administrations as the country reeled from a drought, a volcanic eruption and other natural disasters.

Conditions in El Salvador

After years of endemic violence, El Salvador has seen a reduction in homicides and gang-related bloodshed under President Nayib Bukele. But experts warn that those figures belie human rights abuses such as torture and wrongful incarceration, according to Human Rights Watch.

Trump and Bukele, who once jokingly referred to himself as "the coolest dictator in the world," have become close allies amid the opening of the infamous Terrorism Confinement Center, which has housed people who had been detained in the United States.

Navas, whose research has focused on Central American immigration and TPS, said conditions were not great for returning to El Salvador and its infrastructure might not be able to handle the influx of tens of thousands of people.

El Salvador, she said, is in the middle of a drought and has to import food from other Central American countries. Housing is expensive. The healthcare system, she said, is virtually collapsed.

"So, on one end, we understand that there is a picture of more safety, tourism, maybe more people, different kinds of people aren't in the country, but the reality behind the curtains is that people live under fear, people aren't able to access work," Navas told Newsday in a phone interview.

Xavier Palacios, managing partner of Palacios Law Group, which has offices in Huntington Station and several other Long Island locations, said people often ask him why TPS holders had not just become legal permanent residents.

His response: "There isn't a process for them. This was their process. You know, their process was to renew this status, their work permit, and to do things the right way for the last 20-plus years. But there was no independent process for this category to allow them to become residents of the United States."

For Morales, the possibility of losing TPS has forced her to remain inside. She used to take the bus to shop, visit friends, go to work, go to chapel and return home. Now she stays inside, fearful of immigration raids.

"We don't go too much to the stores," she said. "We don't go too much to anywhere because now the situation is not so good. "

The issue with going back to El Salvador is finding a place to live and work at 70 and without retirement benefits.

"The problem is for us how to live," she said. "At my age, this is my problem."