Salvadorans in Massachusetts face uncertainty as temporary protected status for that country is set to expire Wednesday.
Over 7,300 Salvadoran TPS holders live in the Bay State, according to a 2026 report from the Gastón Institute for Latino Community Development and Public Policy at UMass Boston. With the Trump administration's plan to end the protection, they risk detention and deportation by the government unless they're able to find another legal way to remain in the U.S.
"We deserve permanent status, stability and the ability to build our futures without fear," said Doris Reina-Landaverde, coordinator for the Massachusetts TPS Committee.
She said "in the worst-case scenario," Salvadorans could have about two months to return to El Salvador. There is also a possibility the federal government won't make a formal decision or guidance, and Salvadoran TPS holders will receive a six-month extension.
A public notice from U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services released Sept. 3 said that the designation and benefits for those TPS holders will terminate Sept. 9. The termination has been widely anticipated. The Department of Homeland Security hasn't replied to request for comment on what will happen after.
While a June decision by the Supreme Court applied mostly to Haitian and Syrian TPS holders, that decision also limited how federal courts can assess decisions by the Department of Homeland Security on terminating, granting, or extending TPS for other countries.
On Tuesday, Governor Maura Healey sent a letter to Department of Homeland Security Secretary Markwayne Mullin, calling for the government to extend TPS for Salvadorans.
"Salvadoran TPS holders have been making Massachusetts their home for more than 20 years, fleeing dangerous conditions caused by earthquakes and instability. They have opened businesses, bought homes and become a strong foundation of our workforce," said Healey in an emailed statement.
She said terminating the program would have "far-reaching consequences for the Massachusetts workforce and economy."
The Department of Homeland Security didn't say what it will do as TPS ends on Wednesday, nor how people will retain work permits if it doesn't issue a decision on whether to extend TPS. DHS has also not said how it will treat people who had the status, including whether it will consider immediate detentions of former TPS holders, or allow people to remain legally for an unknown amount of time, or work at all.
"An announcement on El Salvador's TPS will be made at the appropriate time. Until such announcement is made, Salvadoran individuals present in the U.S. under TPS retain protection," said an unnamed spokesperson on Wednesday morning. The agency didn't answer further questions.
History of TPS
Congress created temporary protected status in 1990 for people unable to return to their home countries because of environmental or political turmoil. El Salvador was the first country designated for the program, which was created in response to the country's civil war. In 2001, the country was designated for TPS again after two earthquakes killed over 1,100 people and caused a widespread humanitarian crisis.
Julio Pérez grew up during the civil war, which ended in 1992.
"I grew up in the midst of the conflict, hearing bombs day in and out, for hours on ends, and the clashes between the army and the guerrillas," said Pérez. But he said there was no peace after the war ended
"El Salvador was mired in the poverty caused by the war—not to mention the crime, which was reaching terrifying levels," he said.
Pérez moved to the U.S. to study, then got married and had a son in 2005. He worked at a hotel, then as a custodian for a decade, before becoming a bus driver, the past two years for the Logan Express' Danvers line. He's been active in the fight to get TPS holders permanent residency.
"We're concerned because we don't know what tomorrow holds," said Pérez. He said he worried during the first Trump administration of being separated from his then young son.
"Now, he is a young adult, and I am certain he could survive on his own if it came to that. But I hope it never reaches the point where we as parents have to leave and let him stay here alone," Perez said.
Reina-Landaverde, 47, of the Mass. TPS Committee, moved to the US in 2000, and spent nearly two decades as a custodian at Harvard University. She now lives in Ayer and has three daughters, aged 20, 15, and 13, who are all U.S. citizens.
"I'm feeling the uncertainty of what will happen today with TPS," she said.
Maria, whose full name isn't being used due to fear of detention, came to the U.S. at a teenager. She said her parents brought her here after a gang attempted to kidnap her.
She has TPS and has lived here for 26 years, most of her life.
"It's nerve-wracking. It's like your entire world, it's backwards now. It's like somebody moved the rug under you and everything is crumbling down," she said.
Maria was told by her employer she would lose her position coordinating water utilities for a town on Sept. 9. Maria is a single mother of a freshman in college and a 10-year-old. She's worried about paying her bills: $2,600 for rent; $350 for gas; $200 for electricity.
"It's not like we're asking for assistance. We just want to work," she said.
Organizations are stepping in to support. The nonprofit East Boston Community Council is nestled on a busy street in East Boston, a neighborhood that's home to a large number of Salvadorans. The group provides a variety of services, like English and computer classes to the community, and serves at least 1,500 TPS holders from El Salvador.
Immigration coordinator Rafael Garcia said her staff has been fielding daily calls asking whether the government has made any announcements. If the program officially ends, they will explain other avenues, like family-based petitions for parents of U.S.-citizen children over 21.
"On an emotional level, we offer our clients some relief — perhaps not exactly what they want to hear, but we explain their options with sensitivity and sit down with each of them to explore whether any specific options exist for their particular situation," said Garcia.
There is unease and worry about returning to El Salvador. The country has seen human rights violations under the administration of President Nayib Bukele. Human Rights Watch reports torture, mass imprisonments of residents and deaths in custody.
Bukele has forged a political alliance with Trump, allowing the U.S. to send detainees to be held at Center for Terrorism Confinement in 2025. They reported beatings, sexual abuse and lack of medical care after being released in Venezuela.
'People are scared'
Nationwide, at least 170,000 Salvadorans have TPS, and they have at least 150,000 U.S. citizen children, according to FWD.US and the National TPS Alliance.
Angela Palma, 21, is a U.S. citizen whose father has temporary protected status.
Her father, Jose Palma, arrived in the U.S. in 1998 and lived in Lynn for over 20 years before recently moving to Texas. He spent his first years working at restaurants, and driving trucks in New England. He has four U.S.-born children, including an 8-year-old.
"I think I always felt a level of calmness knowing that my parents at least had some sort of protection with TPS. It just made our lives so much more stable. My parents always had work authorization, always were there," she said.
That stability was threatened when the Trump administration tried to terminate the program in 2018. Palma is cofounder of the Massachusetts TPS committee, and is now lead organizer of the National TPS Committee. She went through her teenage years going to rallies about TPS, and now studies political science at Tufts University.
She took a bus to D.C. earlier this year with other advocates to rally with her father for TPS holders before Supreme Court arguments over the termination of Haitian and Syrian TPS.
"After seeing what is happening to the Haitian community, a lot of people are scared to see that happen to the Salvadoran community as well," said Palma. The family has prepped insurance documents in the event of a possible detention, and is brainstorming ways to keep her father safe from potential federal immigration enforcement arrests.
"I'm going to have so much anxiety thinking about my dad leaving the house. I know as a family we've decided that he won't continue driving, which is so sad to think about. My father would — have always driven us to, like, our soccer practices," she said.
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