For the Ukrainian sisters in Gulfport, Trump raises fears of deportation

Gulfport – They thought it was safe.

After Russian missiles began to explode their country, buildings were cratered, and World War II bunkers reopened by the playground, and escaped in their family’s old chevy, they were able to run off the gas, walk the frozen paths with their mothers and other crazy refugees, staying with their Turkey, Mexico and young sisters.

They swam on the first beach, ride their first roller coaster, get their tongues, discover hot dogs, make friends.

Yulia Hamota, now 15, taught herself to play radio head songs on her new guitar. The 13-year-old arena dyed her hair magenta like her favorite singer, Billy Eilish.

They get good grades, host sleepovers and translate for their parents. Even their dreams began to appear in English.

“Ukraine is sometimes a fog. I remember, but it’s far away,” Yulia said last week. “Our lives are very calm here. We are becoming Americans. This is our home.”

In a small blue house in Gulfport, the girl got her own room with bunk beds.

Their uncle, who coordinated their escape to America, hired an attorney who had acquired a temporary protected position. When the family were waiting for the Green Card application, they believed they were safe throughout this April when they could add six months to their stay.

“I can’t imagine going back,” Yulia said.

Now she fears she will have to return to the war zone.

••••

In 2022, the Tampa Bay Times documented efforts to drive Yulia and her family out of Ukraine. Eric Kuder, who owns Gulfport Garage, is engaged to Ulyana, a girl who moved in 2009 and became a citizen six years later.

The couple spent a month and more than $15,000 on plane tickets and attorney fees.

The Times continued their sisters with their first year in Florida, having gotten bikes and tutors, seeing the first fireworks, and worrying about their father. He trembled under a blanket without electricity in Ukraine, waiting to be called to fight. Finally, he was able to attend his first Christmas in America.

Recently, on a warm Friday in early March, the girls were sitting on a bench outside Alina’s Gulfport Middle School. Their parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles were on their way.

Alina was nervous, looking at her knees, rehearsing the line in her head. Last year she only had one. Her English got so much better, she played a major role in 68 lines and murder mystery: Keeper of the Mime.

“You’re going to be amazing,” Yulia told her with a smile on her side.

Most of Yulia’s classmates at high schools on the road know where Ukraine is or that their hometown is at war. “They’re just teenagers,” she said.

She does not tell them about the hill castle, an ancient walled city nearby where she grew up. She does not mention the 150,000 soldiers and 12,000 civilians who were killed. She tries not to think about her home and garden, the cats and old dogs they had to leave behind. “I’m sure the dog is dead now.”

She still texts LVIV friends and cousins, asking them how they are. However, she doesn’t share much about her new life. “They still deal with rockets and sirens. Half the time, they can’t go to school and have to hide in the bunker.

“So I don’t want to boast to them about everything we have here.”

But now she’s scared that she can’t stay.

She follows the news, especially about Ukraine. She wept to hear her new country stop sending aid to her old country. It was hard to believe that President Donald Trump would hand over Ukraine’s mineral rights to repay war debt. And she was terrified of his threat to revoke the protections of the 280,000 Ukrainians that his predecessor welcomed.

How can I get back? What remains?

“It really, really upsets me,” said Yulia, who watched the video that toned Ukrainian President Voldy Mirzelensky over 100 times.

“What’s going on?”

••••

She thought her family had done everything they had envisioned. Her parents had gotten a job building circuit boards in Jabir. Her grandparents had kept them in their homes. They were not seeking outside assistance.

Their uncle confirmed that the lawyer filed an extension in a protected status manner before the deadline.

However, in February, Trump frozen all Ukrainian immigration applications.

Who knows if the family form has been processed or pending.

“It’s changing so quickly,” said Ulyana, the girl’s aunt. “We don’t want to think about what will happen.”

Last year alone, Russia invaded Ukraine on drone strikes of over 13,000 people. The girl doesn’t know what happened to her house.

“Can we stay here in our new home?” Yulia asked. “Can I graduate from high school? Will I go to university?

“It’s all just crazy for me.”

••••

During a recent high school debate, one classmate thought that as long as immigrant farm workers only make five dollars an hour, they’d be fine as long as they’re under half of Florida’s minimum wage. She hears the boy say they are lucky to be in this country that is not theirs.

So, is it okay to pay less than other Americans? I asked the teacher.

The boy replied, of course. Immigrants should be grateful.

“He thought we were less valuable than others,” Yulia said. “I think a lot of people think so.”

Just before her sister’s play began, Yulia outlined her plans. While she graduates from high school, she enrolls in a program to earn her associate’s degree. I’ll go to university, then medical school. Become a surgeon.

“I don’t know what can be done about all these new rules or to ensure they’re not deported,” she said softly.

“But I can do my best to show people that immigration isn’t bad, and we prove that we can actually help people. We worked so hard to be here.

The Ukrainian War by Numbers

• Nearly 7 million Ukrainians have fled their country since the war began • Nearly 7 million Ukrainians have fled their country

• Over 280,000 people have entered the United States.

• Over 3,000 people in Florida