Congregation vows action to help Haitians in Spokane

The 20-year-old Haitian woman stood Sunday before a congregation of 400 people as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Fluent in three languages, she described the fear of facing federal agents as protections end Tuesday for about 500 of her countrymen in Spokane.

“I came here believing that education can change my life,” said the woman, who church leaders asked not to identify. “I’m studying to become an immigration lawyer. I want to speak for people just like me.

“Now the system is telling me, ‘You do not belong here.’ I want a future,” she continued. “I’m not asking for anything more than a chance. I want to become the lawyer I see in my mind, the one who stands up for others.

“Please see us. Hear us,” said the woman, prompting the entire congregation to give her a standing ovation at First Presbyterian Church in downtown Spokane.

The service Sunday included 64 faith-based and nonprofit organizations that have come together to show solidarity for marginalized populations facing immigration-related enforcement actions.

The service focused on the Tuesday deadline prompted by the Trump administration decision to end a program called Temporary Protected Status, which had allowed Haitians to lawfully live in the United States since an earthquake in 2010 devastated the island.

Haiti is currently one of 17 countries designated for TPS, which has been extended several times because conditions in Haiti have never improved.

Luc Jasmin III is the son of the Rev. Luc Jasmin Jr., who founded Jasmin Ministries in 2019. The younger Jasmin explained how Haitians living under TPS in Spokane have been ordered to self -deport back to Haiti or face forced removal.

“TPS is a program created by Congress. It protects people who are already in the U.S. who cannot safely return home due of disaster or armed conflict,” Jasmin said. “It lets them live legally, work legally, pay taxes and build lives. It does not give them a direct path to permanent residency.”

The Haitian government collapsed after the assassination of President Jiovenel Moïse in 2021. Since then, armed gangs control about 80% of the capital, Jasmin said.

“Sending people back would pretty much be a death sentence,” he said.

Many Haitian couples in Spokane have different legal status. The mother may be here under TPS while the husband may be seeking residency by making an asylum claim.

“When we talk about families being pulled apart, this is exactly what we are talking about,” Jasmin said. “They worked hard. They paid taxes they followed the rules. They stayed out of trouble. They believe that meant something. Now they are told they were always temporary. This is causing Haitians to feel terrified, exhausted and betrayed.”

Luc Jasmin Jr. translated for a 35-year-old man who has become a medical doctor.

“I appreciate that you are present here,” the man told the congregation. “While sitting in back, water was falling out of my eyes for the way I see you are supporting us here. I’m touched.”

The Haitian said he fears for Americans as well, after witnessing the Jan. 7 shooting of Renee Good and the Jan. 24 shooting of Alex Pretti in Minneapolis.

“I see where Americans are killing their own Americans like themselves. That hurts me,” the man said. “I was crying about it. And people say, ‘Why are you crying.’ They said the nurse was a terrorist. I didn’t see that. Not only does that hurt me, but it hurts me for you guys, too.”

He understands that the TPS program was temporary.

“I should be proud to serve my country,” he said. But he explained that he has no home left.

The gangs burned down three houses that belonged to his family, he said.

“Can you imagine a country without a president and gangsters are leading the country?” he asked.

The congregation also heard from a 22-year-old Haitian woman who arrived in Spokane three years ago with a sister who was 18.

“In a few days, I won’t be able to work. I can’t help my sister with her school,” the woman said. “Each of us has a family of 10 or 20 who count on us.”

The woman said she yearns for her father’s embrace.

“But there is no home to go back to,” she said. “We are asking to be seen. We work hard. We study. I stand here today not in anger, but in truth – the truth that compassion does not risk your nation. I believe the people here are now going to stand with us.”

The Rev. John Sowers, of First Presbyterian, said he’s never seen his congregation more motivated to act.

“I think that we have collectively felt an openness, but also a sense of call, to speak truth to power and to enter into a relationship with these folks who are vulnerable,” Sowers said, “and to come alongside them to protect them and to also see them prosper in a community that we love.”

Pastor Emily Kuenker told the congregation that they need to look to their faith for direction.

“Our community members, our neighbors, our friends … are being disappeared and we are being told not to believe what we have seen with our own eyes,” Kuenker said. “The church is facing a day of reckoning.

“Will we curve inwards, paralyzed to the point of inaction by our fear of what will happen to us if we choose to take a stand? Or will we follow Jesus into costly solidarity … as our Haitian neighbors lose protected legal status, as our Syrian neighbors, as our Venezuelan neighbors as our Afghan neighbors are hunted by cowards in masks.”

Church leaders asked congregation members to commit to reporting any sightings of U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents and, if necessary, go to homes of Haitian residents to stand by their side.

“As policies target immigrant communities with cruelty and violence, as in Spokane our Haitian neighbors are put at risk by federal decree,” she said. “May we trust that every act of courage, every refusal to look away, every hand extended in love becomes part of the slow holy work of justice. May we know that every devastating act of cruelty and violence will be met with 10,000 acts of kindness and mercy.”

Kuenker’s voice cracked as she spurred the congregation into action. They responded with a standing ovation.

“The answer is both simple and challenging. It’s love. It’s action,” she said. “We become a neighbor by refusing to look away by allowing our hearts to be broken open by the injustice of cruelty and the pain of our people and then letting that brokenness propel us into solidarity.”