Death of American Dream after Trump axes refugee funds

• Refugees usually get three months' help
• Thousands of newcomers now lack help
• Community groups struggle to plug the gap

WASHINGTON - Ali landed in the United States as a relieved refugee from Iraq just as Donald Trump moved back into the White House. 

His timing wasn't good. 

"When I came to America, they assured me ... they'll help me financially, provide a place and food," Ali said by phone.

"But when I came here, everything changed."

The 22-year-old spoke to Context on condition of anonymity out of fear of retribution for himself and for his family back at home.

Ali had been in Texas only a matter of weeks when the official helping hand he had been promised in Iraq was withdrawn, with almost nothing else on tap to help him.

It had taken him a year to win his coveted refugee status and it was in January, as Trump prepared to resume office, that Ali arrived in Houston, with a bag of clothes and $120 in cash.

He had no family or friends in the United States but had been promised official help to find an apartment, day-to-day basics and a job – everything he'd need to launch a new life.

But on Day One in office, Trump suspended the $2.8-billion U.S. Refugee Admissions Program, then froze the federal money that had been earmarked to help new refugees settle.    

Trump's actions are now the subject of lawsuits by refugees, assistance organisations and faith groups, but in the meantime, thousands of new arrivals feel abandoned and struggle to cope.

"I got an email that said the case manager is no longer working for the agency," he recalled. "I couldn’t sleep. I wasn’t having a lot of food – just one meal a day." 

Refugee status

As a gay man, Ali said he had faced violence in Iraq and sought refugee protection from persecution after he was arrested in 2023 on suspicion of romantic involvement with another man.

His plan had been to study and become a nurse in his adopted homeland but Ali quickly hit major obstacles following the funding freeze.

"I thought ... 'Am I going to sleep on the street?'" he said.

His experience mirrors that of other newcomers, along with the thousands more who were all set to emigrate but are now stranded and scared, stuck in their own or other countries.

In February, Ali joined a national lawsuit suing the Trump administration on behalf of people like him and assistance groups that had been helping more than 7,000 new refugees.

The State Department declined to discuss the lawsuit or the impact of Trump's actions. The Department of Homeland Security did not respond when asked how many refugees were affected.

Eventually, a local charity paid rent for Ali's apartment for a month, but critical help finding a job has dried up.

Still, he considers himself luckier than other newcomers who speak no English or are navigating the chaos with children.

"I don't see how they are managing to live," he said.    

'Unsustainable'

The United States has resettled more than 3.1 million refugees since 1980, including more than 60,000 in 2023, the most recent data available.

Standard practice had seen new refugees get help from one of a handful of resettlement organisations that offer healthcare, housing and help with jobs in the initial three months, according to Refugee Council USA.

On March 10, the State Department told the judge overseeing Ali's case that it plans to hire a new resettlement agency in the next three months, and is also "exploring alternatives to the traditional reception and placement programme".

One agency that had been filling the resettlement role, Lutheran Social Services of the National Capital Area, used to help about 3,500 refugees, said chief executive Kristyn Peck.

In the days after Trump took over, the group contacted nearly 400 new arrivals to say they could no longer help and were laying off more than 42 staff members.

"We had a team of case managers that would meet refugees at the airport and take them for their first night. We would have set up a home ... have a meal ready," Peck said.

They would then help any children enroll in school, fix up medical appointments and immunisations, look for jobs and usually cover rent for a few months, too, she added.

The group is now using volunteers as case workers and leaning on community groups - a stopgap that cannot last.

"We're raising private money to help cover rent, working with faith-based organisations," Peck said. "But this puts them at risk of eviction, food insecurity, unemployment." 

Community support

For now, volunteers talk of a groundswell of community support and an "enormous rise in donations" from 
individual Americans, non-profits, churches and corporations.

Thousands have joined letter-writing campaigns to policy makers, and numerous GoFundMe pages have been set up.  

But charities are struggling to plug the gap.

"I've heard some people are still stuck in hotels with their families. Others may be in housing but not getting funded for rent now," said Beth Hickey, a volunteer at LSS Resource Center, which provides everyday goods to new arrivals in the capital region.

"It's a real scramble for them because the next step for them will be getting evicted," she said.

Some groups are raising funds to help families directly.

"The part we can't fill in is case support. There's someone who needs to fill out the federal forms," said Pastor Kate Costa at the Good Shepherd Lutheran Church in Alexandria, which lies a few miles from the White House. 

"It's heart-breaking...we cannot possibly fill in the gap."

(Reporting by Carey L. Biron; Editing by Lyndsay Griffiths and Anastasia Moloney.)