Peter has only two months to apply for asylum in the United States if he wants to extend his legal stay. If he doesn’t manage to submit the application before December, he’ll need to return to Nicaragua in November 2025, when his temporary residence permit granted through the humanitarian parole or CNHV Program ends.
With slim chances of obtaining a student or work visa that would allow him to stay longer in the U.S., his only option is to apply for asylum within his first year of arrival. With very few exceptions, asylum applications are accepted only from people who have been in the United States for over a year.
Although applying for asylum was something he knew he’d need to do eventually, the news that the parole permit would not be extended led Peter—using a pseudonym to protect his anonymity—to expedite the process. “I plan to apply for asylum at the end of October. I’ll reach my one-year mark on December 28, so I have these months, but I’m going to do it soon,” says the 24-year-old.
On October 4, the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS) confirmed that the parole period would not be extended, nor would there be exceptions for those enrolled in the program. Currently, 110,000 Cubans, 210,000 Haitians, 117,000 Venezuelans, and 93,000 Nicaraguans are covered by the program, according to figures from the Department of Homeland Security (DHS).
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Returning Home or Facing Deportation
Of the over half a million people who have not regularized their status outside of parole—meaning they haven’t obtained a visa, applied for asylum, married a U.S. citizen, or been sponsored by a family member in the U.S.—they will have to return to their home countries or face deportation.
“People here are uncertain and afraid. We were hopeful that the stay could be extended,” Peter says. There is anxiety over what will happen if he can’t regularize his status in the United States and fear of returning to a country he left due to a lack of opportunities.
In the ten months he’s been in the U.S., Peter has adapted to his new country and saved money—something he was never able to do in Nicaragua, where he used to work at a call center. Now he works as a cashier at a gas station and as a cook at a Cuban restaurant. Although he has no free time since he moves from one job to the next, he has been able to save a little money, giving him hope for building a future, he says.
He has also been able to make plans for his partner and their 16-month-old child, who are waiting for him in Nicaragua. “I want to bring my child and my partner here next year so they can enjoy the opportunities here. And in this way, try to grow personally and economically,” he says.
Nicaraguans Look to Marry U.S. Citizens
Abigail, 24, has come to terms with the fact that if she doesn’t marry her current partner, a U.S. citizen, she will have to return to Nicaragua once her two-year parole approval period ends. She has also requested anonymity.
Since arriving in California in April, she has planned to marry—one of the options available to parole beneficiaries to extend their stay in the country. However, the money she and her partner saved over the past few months has gone to paying off debts, both from Nicaragua and ones incurred after her arrival.
“The plane tickets cost $900, and the work permit cost $500. When I arrived, I had to buy basic necessities, and the debts grew,” Abigail explains.
The most affordable option for marriage involves spending about $3,000 on lawyer fees and residency application costs, so immediate marriage isn’t an option, she explains.
While Abigail admits she isn’t keen on a quick courthouse wedding, she’d like a small ceremony. “I’ve seen that in some states, they offer a small celebration at the courthouse, with a lawyer, witnesses, and a cake. I’d like to pay off our debts and do something nice for ourselves, even if it’s just a family meal—not just rush through it. That’s why we’ve delayed it,” she says.
Another reason she hasn’t married is that her boyfriend hasn’t formally proposed beyond their casual plans to do so. She wants a traditional proposal, with a ring and a declaration.
“He says he wants to get married, but I don’t see it that way,” she says, pointing to her bare left ring finger. “I want it to be formal, not something he hasn’t even asked me about. If my boyfriend doesn’t decide, I’ll have to go back to Nicaragua,” she says.
Unlike others, Abigail doesn’t want to apply for asylum—the most effective way many people have found to stay in the United States—because it involves long procedures and costly legal fees, something she’d rather avoid.
Attorney fees for asylum applications vary by state, ranging from $1,000 to $1,400. And though she could pay, it’s not the route she wants.
Work Visas Are Hard to Obtain
Abigail, who works in a financial institution, also asked her boss if the company could sponsor a work visa, but her boss told her it likely wouldn’t be possible. First, he doesn’t make such decisions, and second, the company replaces workers when their permits expire.
“If I don’t get married, I’d have to keep asking my boss, but there are about six higher-ups above him. As he told me, the company won’t care when my parole expires; they’ll just say goodbye and hire someone else,” she recounts.
Peter also points out that getting a work visa is not easy, as most employers find it simpler to replace workers on temporary work permits because the jobs offered are low-skilled with high employee turnover.
Although some migrants hold university degrees, it’s challenging for them to work in their fields due to institutional barriers and limited opportunities. “It hasn’t been what I expected, but things have gone well for me during this time. I’ve found work, even if it’s as a cashier, and I see progress. That’s why I want to stay,” he says.
Another reason Peter doesn’t want to return to Nicaragua is that he would have to go back to working at a call center, where he spent three years without making progress in his savings or economic advancement. That was the only job he could find after leaving university due to financial hardship in 2021.
“I want to grow with my family, and I don’t think I’ll have those opportunities in Nicaragua,” he says.
Abigail says she left Nicaragua because she felt she was wasting her potential as a young professional in a country immersed in a sociopolitical crisis. “Migration is difficult, but necessary. Unfortunately, we live in a challenging political situation in our country, which wasn’t our fault, but it’s up to us to decide if we want to continue in it or not,” she says.