In the 19 years my uncle has worked in the health care industry, he’s only missed one day — the day his mother, my grandmother, died. He then helped plan a funeral he couldn’t attend.

If you live in his small town in Utah, you know my uncle. He’s the big man you see riding all over town on a bike.  He’s part of the kitchen staff at a care facility and a friend to the other workers and patients. He’s the man who has the bus schedule memorized and can get you anywhere.

He’s also the man who was forced to miss his mother’s funeral in his home country. His immigration status requires him to apply for travel authorization, which can take months and puts him at risk of being denied reentry. It just wasn’t possible for him to make it.

Stories like these are all too common — and they could soon get worse.

My uncle has what’s called  Temporary Protected Status, or TPS. The program was created by Congress in 1990 to provide work authorization and protection from deportation to individuals from designated countries experiencing armed conflict or environmental disasters. 

More than a million people rely on the program. While it’s characterized as temporary, over 200,000 TPS holders have lived here for more than two decades. They’ve established lives in the United States, yet live with the fear that it could be taken away at any moment.

Unfortunately, that moment has arrived.

President Donald Trump and Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem have made it clear they’re targeting TPS. The administration has terminated or rescinded the legal status of hundreds of thousands of TPS holders, needlessly uprooting their lives.

These deported TPS holders are now expected to navigate poverty, instability, violence and other unsafe conditions in countries many haven’t lived in for decades. Many struggle to reintegrate and are often targeted by local criminal groups.

While the administration slanders TPS holders as criminals, an overwhelming amount of research shows that immigrants actually make communities safer. They have a nearly 95% employment rate and generate more than $1.3 billion in federal taxes, contributing to programs like Social Security and Medicare. With a high rate of entrepreneurship, they generate a spending power of more than $8 billion.

Their positive impact is undeniable. Yet instead of providing a pathway to citizenship, the Trump administration is systematically phasing out TPS and imposing significant financial hardship on TPS holders and the communities around them.

In addition to slashing programs like SNAP to fund tax benefits for the wealthy, Trump and the GOP’s “Big Beautiful Bill” also adds exorbitant new fees for immigrants with TPS, asylum-seekers and migrants on humanitarian parole. The law increases initial application fees for TPS holders from $50 to $500 and adds a non-waivable $550 fee for work authorization for first-time applicants — along with a new annual renewal fee of at least $275.

My uncle has already paid thousands of dollars in renewal fees during his 20 years as a TPS recipient, saving the money from his $16-an-hour job to continue to work and provide for his family. Because my uncle values the United States, he’ll pay these predatory fees.

But he shouldn’t have to — and neither should anyone else on TPS. Communities across the country are stronger because TPS holders are here. Their livelihoods are in jeopardy unless Congress provides them with a pathway to citizenship.

The American Dream and Promise Act would provide TPS holders — along with DACA recipients and other undocumented youth — a pathway to citizenship and the permanent relief and stability they and their families deserve.

As the niece of one of the 1 million-plus TPS holders, I urge readers to defend the rights of their neighbors. Now is the time to protect what makes communities strong.

The writer is a recent college graduate who’s pursuing a career in public policy. This op-ed was distributed by OtherWords.org.