Over the past couple of years, around 40,000 Venezuelans arrived in Denver fleeing political and economic instability, eager to work while their immigration statuses played out. Initially, with help from the city and non-profit organizations, many were able to find stable housing and jobs. However, with all the recent changes in immigration policy, they now face an uncertain future and finding work has become more difficult.

Producers Ann Marie Awad and Andrés Pacheco-Girón explore how the rules of the hustle have changed for one Venezuelan couple in Denver.

The Hustle is a podcast series about the ways immigrants navigate a changing economy — today and throughout history.


Venezuelans in Denver Struggle to Live and Work Amid Ongoing Deportations

Editor’s Note: As of April 19, the U.S. Supreme Court has temporarily blocked the Trump administration from deporting any Venezuelans being held in the Bluebonnet Detention Center in Texas under the Alien Enemies Act.

Finding a New Home in the Rocky Mountains

Juan was the first one to leave Venezuela and make the perilous journey to the United States, arriving in early 2023. Back home, he worked in construction while Maria, his partner, hustled anywhere she could — as a hairstylist, candy seller, and daycare worker. Both of them were looking for a better life. They wanted to get out of Venezuela and were fleeing economic collapse in their home country.

Once Juan found a stable living situation, he planned to send for Maria to follow him north. Maria crossed seven countries to get to Mexico, mostly by foot, on her way to the United States from Venezuela. She had to walk through the Darien Gap, a 60-mile stretch of jungle on the borders of Panama and Colombia, known as one of the most dangerous places in the world. She and Juan reunited in Denver, Colorado, in 2024, where they worked to earn enough money to survive by cleaning houses and shoveling snow. Their hope was to stay in the United States, and eventually bring their five children to join them. But now, they’re not so sure. 

“I am working my job to pay rent, eat, and send some money back home to Venezuela,” Maria said. She is an asylum seeker who has been playing by the book since she arrived at the border, but now the process is proving more challenging than ever. She said that the lawyers are charging her $2,500  just to file asylum claim. But the whole process might eventually cost her around $9,500. “I sometimes wonder if it’s worth it to keep paying that, or if I should take that money and return to Venezuela.”

Maria’s motivation to come to the United States was to finally be able to save up enough to buy her own house. She said in Venezuela, it is impossible to buy a home. “With one month’s worth of my salary, I could buy two pounds of chicken and a carton of eggs” — hardly enough to feed herself, Juan, and her five children. 

Juan is also an asylum seeker. Asylum is a form of protection granted to people who had to leave their country of origin because of fear of persecution for a variety of reasons, including race, religion, or ethnicity.

Photo caption: Violeta Chapin, clinical professor of law and associate dean for community and culture at the University of Colorado, Boulder. Photo provided by Violeta Chapin/CU Boulder.

Many recent Venezuelan immigrants fall into a murkier category. Most left their country because they were unable to feed themselves or their families. “[That] is unfortunately not a basis for asylum under our immigration laws,” explained Violeta Chapin,  professor of law at the University of Colorado Boulder. “Economic freefall, even if it leads to you and your family essentially starving, is not enough to get you an asylum claim.”

But asylum was not the only lawful immigration route for Venezuelans coming to the United States. Juan and Maria also applied for Temporary Protected Status, or TPS. TPS provides Venezuelans with two years of protection from deportation, and legal work authorization. While Juan was able to get approved for TPS in 2024, Maria is still waiting. 

What is Temporary Protected Status?

TPS dates back to the Immigration Act of 1990. It was meant to provide temporary protection to immigrants fleeing environmental disasters, armed conflict, or other conditions that made it unsafe to return to a home country — at least until those conditions changed, making it safe to return. 

The National TPS Alliance was founded in 2017, during the first Trump administration. They pushed back when the president tried to cancel TPS for Salvadorans who were fleeing civil war in their country in 2018. José Palma, national coordinator of the National TPS Alliance, says the U.S. response was an attempt to obscure a larger political history between the two countries. “The United States was refusing to give Salvadoran asylees recognition because that meant the government had to accept the United States was involved in the war in El Salvador,” Palma said. Instead, he said, the U.S. government created TPS. 

Some of the first immigrants to be granted TPS were Somalians in 1991, who were fleeing that country’s ongoing civil war. TPS would later be extended to Hondurans and Nicaraguans in 1998 after Hurricane Mitch. 

Now, there are 17 countries currently designated for TPS protection, including Haiti, Cameroon, Ukraine, Yemen, Lebanon, and Nepal. 863,880 immigrants living in the United States are TPS holders, according to the National Immigration Forum.

Having TPS also allows someone to apply for work authorization. 

“I got my work permit two months after I arrived in Denver,” Maria said. “But even after that, I had to wait another four months to actually get a job. Luckily, thank God I have a job now.” 

However, as its name suggests, TPS is a temporary measure. It only lasts for two years, though many qualifying countries have had their status renewed multiple times. President Biden renewed TPS for Venezuelans just before he left the White House, a move the Trump administration is now trying to undo. In 2017, during his first presidency, Trump tried to cancel TPS for Haitians and other immigrants.

“Trump has always had TPS in his radar and has been trying to take it away,” explained Palma, from the National TPS Alliance. 

The Rules Changed

Only days after Donald Trump’s inauguration, the new administration started implementing much more aggressive immigration policies, with a particular focus on Venezuelans. Kristi Noem, the newly confirmed head of the Department of Homeland Security, told FOX and Friends that week: “The people of this country want these dirtbags out.”

While ICE began carrying out raids across the country, Noem also announced that the administration planned to undo one of former President Joe Biden’s last immigration decisions from while he was in office: Trump would rescind the 18-month extension of Temporary Protective Status for Venezuelans. With the stroke of a pen, everything changed for nearly 350,000 people who came from Venezuela fleeing hyperinflation and poverty — people like Juan and Maria.

The National TPS Alliance, an organization dedicated to protecting TPS, sued the Trump administration in late February. “The TPS law doesn’t allow another president to come and take that decision away,” said José Palma, the National Coordinator for the National TPS Alliance. “The reality is people who are racists and don’t want immigrants in the United States, they are using dirty tricks to talk with the general public and convince them that what they are doing is deporting people that are committing crimes. In reality, the majority of immigrants commit no crime.” 

On March 31, 2025, a federal judge in San Francisco agreed with the National TPS Alliance, blocking Trump’s efforts to cancel TPS. 

But ICE agents have nonetheless been detaining and deporting TPS holders, asylum seekers, valid visa holders, green card holders, and even citizens — making it clear that those statuses no longer provide the protection they once did. 

Cracking Down on Venezuelans

Even before his second administration, Trump had worked to tie certain groups like Venezuelans to gang violence. During the 2024 presidential campaign, “Trump only mentioned Venezuelans [when] referring to Tren de Aragua,” said Adelys Ferro, director of the Venezuelan American Caucus. Tren de Aragua is a criminal organization that originated in Venezuela but has crossed multiple borders and now has a presence in several countries in Latin America. However, their presence is limited in the United States. 

That has not stopped the Trump administration from using the gang to justify mass detentions of Venezuelans and other Central Americans. In early March, the president deported more than 200 individuals from Venezuela to El Salvador, arguing they were part of Tren de Aragua. The administration went so far as to ignore an order from a judge halting the deportation flights, and continues to double-down on claims that those deportees are gang members, despite growing evidence to the contrary.

Adelys Ferro added that it’s highly unlikely for TPS holders to be part of an international criminal organization due to the extensive background checks and identification measures they have to undergo.

José Palma said, “ if you commit two misdemeanors, you lose your TPS. If you commit one felony, you lose your TPS. So anybody who has TPS has been doing things lawfully and fulfilling all the requirements that come with it.”

However, there are already a few cases of the administration deporting those who are supposed to be protected. Kilmar Armando Abrego Garcia was deported to El Salvador, despite holding a protected status. Adrian Gil Rojas was arrested by ICE despite having TPS, and sent to El Salvador. While it’s not uncommon for ICE to deport people with legal status, in at least one case — that of Abrego Garcia — the administration argues it has no obligation to do anything about it. White House spokeswoman Karoline Leavitt told reporters on April 15 that if the government could do it all over again, they would still deport Abrego Garcia: “There is never going to be a world in which this is an individual who is going to live a peaceful life in Maryland.” 

Because of the political climate, Juan and Maria have gone through a rollercoaster of thoughts and emotions as they weigh what to do next. In February, Maria was optimistic that things would work out. “I am still hopeful that I came here to achieve something else,” she said at the time. But as summer approaches, her job opportunities are becoming more limited, which also hurts her ability to make ends meet, pay for her asylum case, and send money back home.

Now the math is no longer adding up; paying for an immigration lawyer is no longer an option. Because of the uncertainty around her immigration status, Maria plans to return to Venezuela to be with her children at the end of 2025. As for Juan, he is planning to stay and work as many jobs as he can to support them from the United States.

He said, “I was going to bring my daughter with me. But the way I’m living here is not worth it. I don’t leave my apartment if it’s not to work. I feel fear, like I’m being persecuted. And the thing is, the work we do is the last thing people want to do. No ‘gringo’ wants to do it.”


Credits

Hosted by Shaka Tafari

Produced by Ann Marie Awad and Andrés Pacheco-Girón

Edited by Feet in 2 Worlds’ editing fellow

Additional editing by Quincy Surasmith and Mia Warren

Fact Checking by Julie Schwietert Collazo

Engineering by Sharon Bardales and Jocelyn Gonzales

Original theme music by Gautam Srikishan

Additional music from Blue Dot Sessions

“The Hustle” show logo by Daniel Robles

Feet in 2 Worlds is supported by the John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation, The Ford Foundation, the Fernandez Pave the Way Foundation, an anonymous donor, and contributors to our annual NewsMatch campaign.

Ann Marie Awad is the editorial director of the Institute for Independent Journalists and a freelance audio journalist based in Denver, Colorado. Their work has aired on NPR's All Things Considered, WBUR's Here and Now, and on local public radio stations in Colorado, Philadelphia and Louisiana. Awad is a 2022 reporting fellow with the UC Center for the Science of Psychedelics, and they are the creator and host of On Something, an award-winning podcast about life after cannabis legalization. They have also produced, edited, and consulted on podcast projects for WAMU, SONOS, and the Knight First Amendment Institute at Columbia University, among others.

Andrés Pacheco-Girón is an audio producer and journalist based in New York City. Originally from Bogota, Colombia, he moved to the U.S. because he fell in love with audio and is pursuing a Master’s in Podcasting and Audio Reportage at NYU’s journalism school. Before joining Feet in 2 Worlds as an intern, Andrés worked as an Associate Producer for Ballotpedia’s podcast On The Ballot and as a journalist in Colombia for Mutante, Caracol Radio, Cuestión Pública and La Silla Vacía.