Wilmer Escaray departed from Venezuela in 2007 and enrolled in Miami Dade College. Six years later, he inaugurated his first restaurant. Currently, he manages a dozen businesses that employ many Venezuelan migrants, individuals who now live in fear of losing their legal protection from deportation.
Earlier this year, the U.S. administration under President Trump terminated two federal programs that collectively permitted more than 700,000 Venezuelans, alongside many Cubans, Haitians, and Nicaraguans, to legally reside and work in the United States.
In Doral, Florida, often referred to as “Little Venezuela” or “Doralzuela,” there is widespread anxiety over what lies ahead should legal actions to halt the government’s decisions fail. This community of about 80,000 people is encircled by Miami’s expansion, highways, and the Florida Everglades.
For those in Doralzuela, losing legal protections means living illegally with the constant threat of deportation, or returning to Venezuela—a country currently facing severe political and economic challenges. “Losing talented human capital is truly regrettable because these people perform jobs others won’t,” explains Escaray, 37, at one of his “Sabor Venezolano” establishments.
In Doral’s commercial districts, Spanish predominates over English, creating an ambiance that reminds Venezuelans of home but with greater security and comfort.
A tantalizing aroma fills the air from flat, cornmeal arepas available at various outlets, while gas stations offer flour, white cheese, and apparel designed with the Venezuelan flag’s vibrant colors.
Nine years ago, John arrived from Venezuela and, together with a partner, acquired a thriving construction business. He and his wife hold Temporary Protected Status (TPS), designed by Congress in 1990 for those unable to return to unstable homelands. While TPS allows temporary residence and employment, it offers no citizenship path. Their 5-year-old daughter, born in the U.S., is a citizen. John, 37, prefers only his first name for privacy reasons.
John’s wife manages both their construction firm’s administration and works as a real-estate broker. The couple has prepared their daughter for the possibility they might have to exit the United States, ruling out a return to Venezuela.
“We are deeply hurt by the government’s disregard,” John confesses. “We came not to commit crimes, but to work and build.”
On March 31, a federal judge ruled to extend TPS temporarily amid ongoing legal debates, protecting approximately 350,000 Venezuelans from unauthorized status for the time being. Escaray notes that of his 150 employees, over two-thirds are Venezuelan TPS holders.
The humanitarian parole granted to over 500,000 Cubans, Venezuelans, Haitians, and Nicaraguans is poised to expire on April 24 without judicial intervention.
Venezuelans previously benefited significantly when President Biden expanded TPS and similar protections. However, Trump has aimed to dismantle these during his terms.
Republican sentiment has largely been silent, except for three Cuban-American Florida representatives advocating to prevent Venezuelan deportations. They urge the U.S. government to spare law-abiding Venezuelans and evaluate TPS cases individually.
Doral’s mayor, where a Trump golf club has been operating since 2012, asked the president for a legal avenue for non-criminal Venezuelans. “These families don’t seek charity,” said Christi Fraga, herself a Cuban exile descendant. “They want a chance to continue working and contributing in the U.S.”
Since 2014, Venezuela has seen approximately 8 million people emigrate, initially relocating within Latin America and the Caribbean. Following the COVID-19 pandemic, a growing number have headed for the U.S., enduring arduous journeys from Colombia and Panama or arriving through humanitarian parole.
In Doral, Venezuelan migration began with upper-middle-class investors during Hugo Chávez’s presidency, followed by political adversaries and entrepreneurs. More recent arrivals are lower-income Venezuelans seeking employment in service industries. This community includes naturalized citizens, undocumented residents with U.S.-born children, and those with tourist visa extensions, asylum requests, or temporary statuses.
Doral’s growth owes much to Miami International Airport. Venezuelan American Chamber of Commerce President Frank Carreño, a resident for nearly two decades, voices the prevalent unease. “What will the future hold? Returning to Venezuela isn’t an option for many,” he remarks.