Photo by Andrew Maiman, Creative Commons License via Wikimedia.
Maria Hernandez, an 18-year-old from Maracaibo, Venezuela, arrived in the U.S. in 2023 with her one-year-old son, John, seeking a brighter future and stability after leaving behind fear and persecution in her home country.
At 14, she was given a government-issued monitor in Venezuela, a tool used to track dissenters, which made her feel scared and vulnerable. “It was terrifying to know they were watching me,” Maria recalled. “I felt like I was never safe.” The monitor symbolized the oppressive environment she sought to escape, where even young people like her were not free from surveillance and control.
Maria relied on the guidance of relatives already settled in the United States to plan her journey out of Venezuela. She was determined to secure a safer life for her young son. “Venezuela was not a safe place for me or my baby,” Maria said. “I didn’t want my son to grow up surrounded by that.”
She boarded an evacuation flight from Simón Bolívar airport near Caracas to Houston, Texas. The U.S. Department of Homeland Security (USCIS) offers get away flights to migrants from Venezuela, Cuba, Haiti and Nicaragua. Those eligible for this Advanced Authorization program must pass a vetting test, have a job or relatives and a support system in the U.S. When Maria arrived in the U.S., her relatives helped her navigate her way to New York. But stepping into this unfamiliar world was just the beginning of another set of struggles. Maria registered at the Roosevelt Hotel central intake center on East 45th Street and Madison Avenue.
Venezuelan refugees and migrants from 18 countries have Temporary Protected Status that allows them to live and work in the U.S. legally for a while. More than 863,000 have been granted TPS, according to the Congressional Research Service.
The homeless migrant shelter system set up by Mayor Eric Adams requires migrants to register at the Roosevelt every two months. Maria and her son were assigned to the Row Hotel on 8th Avenue, but she must go back to the Roosevelt, like others, to renew her stay, or be assigned elsewhere. Often, she is relocated to a new hotel and that disrupts her attempts to build stability. “How can you think about the future when you don’t even know where you’ll live in a few weeks?” Maria asked.
Maria is one of more than 210,00 migrants who have arrived in the city since 2022. Like her, many say they have fled political threats and violence. The Roosevelt Hotel became a symbol of the city’s migrant crisis and experts and advocates emphasize the need for lasting solutions. “We can’t expect these families to thrive if they’re living in survival mode,” says Derrick Santiago, a hotel manager and representative for DocGo, which has $432 million contract with the city to provide migrant services. “They need long-term solutions that allows them to build stable lives,” Santiago said.
Maria is trying to do just that. Each morning, she prepares John for a day with the person who cares for him. She then heads to classes at James Monroe High School in the Bronx. She feels determined to complete her education. After school, she works part-time at McDonald’s on East 42nd Street in Manhattan. But that isn’t enough, and on weekends she supplements her income by selling candy in subway stations, often with her one-year-old strapped securely to her back.
“I do whatever I can to provide for us,” Maria said. “Es difícil, pero me voy a rendir.” (“It’s hard, but I won’t give up.”)
Advocates for migrants, including organizations like Make the Road and local churches, are pushing for better support systems, including permanent housing and social services. They also warn that federal policies, under President-Elect Donald Trump, could further complicate the lives of migrants like Maria, leaving them in precarious limbo.
President-Elect Trump has threatened to eliminate the TPS program and deport those who have the status. “I’m scared of what might happen to people like me,” Maria said.
Even with the uncertainty, Maria remains determined to secure a better future for her son, John. “I’ve prayed about it, and I know God has a plan for us,” she said with quiet confidence. “No matter what happens, I’ll do everything in my power to give my son the life he deserves.”
Series: Immigration
