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In the wake of President Donald Trump's travel ban, dreams of reuniting with family members have been abruptly shattered for many immigrants from nations caught in the ban. Rooted in every state across America, these individuals, who fled violence and instability in their homelands, now face heightened anxiety and an atmosphere of uncertainty. This executive order has placed their hopes of family visits for graduations, weddings, and funerals into serious doubt.

Amaha Kassa, the executive director of the nonprofit African Communities Together, emphasized that this policy is inciting additional fear within immigrant communities. Trump justified the ban citing "foreign policy, national security, and counterterrorism goals," but for immigrants like Iranian-born Roozbeh Farahanipour, who owns three restaurants in Los Angeles, the ban feels like unjust punishment for families that pose no threat to the United States. Farahanipour, who came to the U.S. in 2000 and built a successful life, worries about his community left in turmoil.

The situation in Haiti has particularly worsened since the assassination of its president in 2021, with gangs seizing control and families seeking refuge elsewhere, including the U.S. The temporary protected status (TPS) for hundreds of thousands of Haitians is set to expire in August, adding to their despair. Yvena Jean François, who works at an Amazon warehouse in Springfield, Ohio, where many of her colleagues are Haitian, expressed the pervasive fear among her community.

Over the years, as Springfield attempted to boost its manufacturing sector, Haitian immigrants were recruited to fill labor shortages, increasing the Haitian population to an estimated 15,000. However, recent influxes have stretched local resources, causing some friction. Despite these challenges, the community has opened Haitian restaurants, convenience stores, and hair salons, helping to preserve their cultural identity even as they face political backlash.

Afghan and Somali immigrants have also sought safety in the U.S., with many settling in Houston's Gulfton neighborhood. Entrepreneurs have established businesses catering to their communities, such as the Afghan Bazaar, where traditional clothing and baked goods are available. Hasebullah Akhundzada and Said Jallal, both with families still in Afghanistan, speak to the anxiety brought on by the travel ban, which complicates any hope of reunification.

Ahmed, a Somali who arrived in the U.S. 25 years ago, recounted his own troubling experiences with travel, including being detained for hours at airports. His wife and children, who recently visited Somalia, now face an uncertain return journey due to the ban.

In Los Angeles’ Tehrangeles neighborhood, Iranian Americans reacted with a mix of resignation and dread. Past experiences under similar bans and ongoing political tensions with the U.S. over Iran's nuclear program have left many anticipating this resurgence in policy. Farahanipour, who endured imprisonment and torture for his political activities in Iran, fears the renewed ban may halt the quintessential American success stories like his from being realized by others.

The travel ban stands as a daunting barrier to the American dream for many, casting shadows of fear and insecurity across diverse immigrant communities striving to find their place in the United States.