Laura Trevelyan
BBC News, New York
The earthquake in Haiti two months ago has provided a rare opportunity for the estimated 200,000 Haitians living in the US illegally.
The government is allowing undocumented Haitians to apply for temporary work permits, in the hope that they will earn money and send it back home to help rebuild the country.
For some who have spent their lives in the shadows, this is a chance to live the American dream.
Christanya Semplice is one of them. She lives in a cramped apartment in the Bronx with her five children, yet officially the 25-year-old does not exist.
A Haitian citizen, she has been in the US since she was three years old, but does not have the right legal documents.
When the US government announced that undocumented Haitians like her could apply for temporary work permits, Ms Semplice jumped at the chance.
“I am unable to work, I can’t go back to school, I really can’t provide for my kids,” she says, cradling her one-month old daughter Christine.
New opportunities
She says becoming legal would help her get a job and a bigger apartment. “I would be able to have ID, to get married. I would like to go back to school and be a teacher,” she adds.
“It is not an amnesty, absolutely not”
**Andrea Quarantillo
Director, US Citizenship and Immigration Services, New York **
So far, nearly 32,000 Haitians in the same position as Ms Semplice have applied for temporary protected status (TPS), which means they can work and study legally in the US for 18 months.
Andrea Quarantillo, the Director of US Citizenship and Immigration Services for New York, expects that about 110,000 Haitians will have applied for TPS by the July deadline.
She says that after the earthquake, Haiti could not support any Haitians returning to the country. The reasoning behind the policy, she explains, was to take some of the pressure off Haiti.
“It also allows Haitian nationals in the US to work and live legally here and perhaps send remittances back home which helps the economy and helps the recovery,” she adds.
Haitians are not the first ones to be offered TPS. Hondurans and Nicaraguans were also allowed to apply in the wake of Hurricane Mitch and have subsequently had it extended for more than eight years.
Ms Quarantillo says TPS can open up enormous opportunities.
Chance for citizenship
“In eight years you could certainly get yourself a college education, you could probably get a job that might have a skill for which your employer could ask that you be given a green card, and even in that amount of time you would be very close to being able to apply for citizenship,” she says.
“I would be at work right now, my kids would be taken care of, I would live in a nice house, completely different from this”
Christanya Semplice
But there are critical voices, too. Some immigration watchdog groups say there is nothing temporary about TPS, and say it is akin to an amnesty for illegal immigrants.
Ms Quarantillo’s response is firm. “It is not an amnesty, absolutely not. Temporary Protected Status is a benefit”, she says.
People with a criminal record cannot apply, she stresses.
Over at the New York Legal Assistance Group in Manhattan, lawyers have been working round the clock, providing free advice to the hundreds of Haitians who want to apply for TPS.
A Haitian couple and their baby son are speaking to a lawyer through a Creole interpreter.
The father explains that he wants to study, so he can get a job, with benefits for his family.
Tony Lu of the group’s Immigration Protection Unit warns clients that if they apply and are rejected, there is always the chance that they will be deported.
Also, he points out that this is only a temporary scheme, and at the end of it people revert to their previous legal limbo.
“Despite laying all that out, many people have said, ‘I want to file as soon as possible, I have been living here for so long without papers, and I just need this work authorisation and I need to be able to stop living in fear’,” he says.
Precarious existence
Although Christanya Semplice is applying for TPS, she is worried about alerting the US immigration authorities to her existence.
“Now they’re going to know I’m here, and if I’m not able to get extended, they might ship me back to Haiti, and I don’t want to get shipped back,” she says. But it is a risk she is prepared to take.
I ask Andrea Quarantillo what happens to the Haitians like Ms Semplice if their temporary work permits are not extended at the end of 18 months.
“When TPS expires, US citizenship and immigration service does not take all those TPS files and turn them over to immigration customs and enforcement and ask them to remove people from the US,” she tells me.
“We simply shelve those files. If one of the enforcement agencies needs them because they have an issue with that person, they will call for a file specifically, but we do not just line them up and process them for deportation.”
Sitting in the tiny kitchen of her Bronx apartment with the children clamouring for her attention, Ms Semplice is dreaming of the kind of life she might have if she gets work authorization.
She says: “I would be at work right now, my kids would be taken care of, I would live in a nice house, completely different from this. Nobody dreams of this.”