public benefit

CLARKSTON, Ga. — After fleeing the war-torn Democratic Republic of Congo, Antoinette landed in the Atlanta area last November and began to find her footing with federal help.

Separated from her adult children and grieving her husband’s death in the war, she started a job packing boxes in a warehouse, making just enough to cover rent for her own apartment and bills.

Antoinette has been relying on the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, formerly known as food stamps, for her weekly grocery trips.

But now, just as life is starting to stabilize, she will have to deal with a new setback.

President Donald Trump’s massive budget law, which Republicans call the One Big Beautiful Bill Act, slashes $187 billion — or nearly 20% — from the federal budget for SNAP through 2034. And separate from any temporary SNAP stoppages due to the federal shutdown, the law cuts off access completely for refugees and other immigrant groups in the country lawfully. The change was slated to take effect immediately when the law was signed in July, but states are still awaiting federal guidance on when to stop or phase it out.

For Antoinette, 51, who did not want her last name used for fear of deportation and likely persecution in her native country, the loss of food aid is dire.

“I would not have the means to buy food,” she said in French through a translator. “How am I going to manage?”

Throughout its history, the U.S. has admitted into the country refugees like Antoinette, people who have been persecuted, or fear persecution, in their homelands due to race, religion, nationality, political opinions, or membership in a particular social group. These legal immigrants typically face an in-depth vetting process that can start years before they set foot on U.S. soil.

Once they arrive — often with little or no means — the federal government provides resources such as financial assistance, Medicaid, and SNAP, outreach that has typically garnered bipartisan support. Now the Trump administration has pulled back the country’s decades-long support for refugee communities.

The budget law, which funds several of the president’s priorities, including tax cuts to wealthy Americans and border security, revokes refugees’ access to Medicaid, the state-federal health insurance program for people with low incomes or disabilities, starting in October 2026.

But one of the first provisions to take effect under the law removes SNAP eligibility for most refugees, asylum seekers, trafficking and domestic violence victims, and other legal immigrants. About 90,000 people will lose SNAP in an average month as a result of the new restrictions narrowing which noncitizens can access the program, according to the Congressional Budget Office.

“It doesn’t get much more basic than food,” said Matthew Soerens, vice president of advocacy and policy at World Relief, a Christian humanitarian organization that supports U.S. refugees. “Our government invited these people to rebuild their lives in this country with minimum support,” Soerens said. “Taking food away from them is wrong.”

Not just a handout

The White House and officials at the United States Department of Agriculture did not respond to emails about support for the provision that ends SNAP for refugees in the One Big Beautiful Bill Act.

But Steven Camarota, director of research for the Center for Immigration Studies, which advocates for reduced levels of immigration to the U.S., said cuts to SNAP eligibility are reasonable because foreign-born people and their young children disproportionately use public benefits.

Still, Camarota said, the refugee population is different from other immigrant groups. “I don’t know that this would be the population I would start with,” Camarota said. “It’s a relatively small population of people that we generally accept have a lot of need.”

Federal, state, and local spending on refugees and asylum seekers, including food, healthcare, education, and other expenses, totaled $457.2 billion from 2005 to 2019, according to a February 2024 report from the Department of Health and Human Services. During that time, 21% of refugees and asylum seekers received SNAP benefits, compared with 15% of all U.S. residents.

In addition to the budget law’s SNAP changes, financial assistance given to people entering the U.S. by the Office of Refugee Resettlement, a part of HHS, has been cut from one year to four months.

The HHS report also found that despite the initial costs of caring for refugees and asylees, this community contributed $123.8 billion more to federal, state, and local governments through taxes than they received in public benefits over the 15 years.

It’s in the country’s best interest to continue to support them, said Krish O’Mara Vignarajah, president and CEO of Global Refuge, a nonprofit refugee resettlement agency.

“This is not what we should think about as a handout,” she said. “We know that when we support them initially, they go on to not just survive but thrive.”

Food is medicine

Clarkston, Georgia, an Atlanta suburb, is home to thousands of refugees.

(Renuka Rayasam/KFF Health News)

Food insecurity can have lifelong physical and mental health consequences for people who have already faced years of instability before coming to the U.S., said Andrew Kim, co-founder of Ethnē Health, a community health clinic in Clarkston, an Atlanta suburb that is home to thousands of refugees.

Noncitizens affected by the new law would have received, on average, $210 a month within the next decade, according to the CBO. Without SNAP funds, many refugees and their families might skip meals and switch to lower-quality, inexpensive options, leading to chronic health concerns such as obesity and insulin resistance, and potentially worsening already serious mental health conditions, he said.

After her husband was killed in the Democratic Republic of Congo, Antoinette said, she became separated from all seven of her children. The youngest is 19. She still isn’t sure where they are. She misses them but is determined to build a new life for herself. For her, resources like SNAP are critical.

From the conference room of New American Pathways, the nonprofit that helped her enroll in benefits, Antoinette stared straight ahead, stone-faced, when asked about how the cuts would affect her.

Will she shop less? Will she eat fewer fruits and vegetables, and less meat? Will she skip meals?

“Oui,” she replied to each question, using the French for “yes.”

Since arriving in the U.S. last year from Ethiopia with his wife and two teen daughters, Lukas, 61, has been addressing diabetes-related complications, such as blurry vision, headaches, and trouble sleeping. SNAP benefits allow him and his family to afford fresh vegetables like spinach and broccoli, according to Lilly Tenaw, the nurse practitioner who treats Lukas and helped translate his interview.

His blood sugar is now at a safer level, he said proudly after a class at Mosaic Health Center, a community clinic in Clarkston, where he learned to make lentil soup and balance his diet.

“The assistance gives us hope and encourages us to see life in a positive way,” he said in Amharic through a translator. Lukas wanted to use only his family name because he had been jailed and faced persecution in Ethiopia, and now worries about jeopardizing his ability to get permanent residency in the U.S.

Since arriving in the U.S. last year from Ethiopia, Lukas has been visiting the Mosaic Health Center in Clarkston, Ga., to address diabetes-related complications. Food stamps allow him and his family to afford fresh vegetables like spinach and broccoli.

(Renuka Rayasam/KFF Health News)

Hunger and poor nutrition can lower productivity and make it hard for people to find and keep jobs, said Valerie Lacarte, a senior policy analyst at the Migration Policy Institute.

“It could affect the labor market,” she said. “It’s bleak.”

More SNAP cuts to come

While the Trump administration ended SNAP for refugees effective immediately, the change has created uncertainty for those who provide assistance.

State officials in Texas and California, which receive the most refugees among states, and in Georgia told KFF Health News that the USDA, which runs the program, has yet to issue guidance on whether they should stop providing SNAP on a specific date or phase it out.

And it’s not just refugees who are affected.

Nearly 42 million people receive SNAP benefits, according to the USDA. The nonpartisan Congressional Budget Office estimates that, within the next decade, more than 3 million people will lose monthly food dollars because of planned changes — such as an extension of work requirements to more people and a shift in costs from the federal government to the states.

In September, the administration ended a key report that regularly measured food insecurity among all U.S. households, making it harder to assess the toll of the SNAP cuts.

The USDA also posted on its website that no benefits would be issued for anyone starting Nov. 1 because of the federal shutdown, blaming Senate Democrats. The Trump administration has refused to release emergency funding — as past administrations have done during shutdowns — so that states can continue issuing benefits while congressional leaders work out a budget deal. A coalition of attorneys general and governors from 25 states and the District of Columbia filed a lawsuit on Oct. 28 contesting the administration’s decision.

Cuts to SNAP will ripple through local grocery stores and farms, stretching the resources of charity organizations and local governments, said Ted Terry, a DeKalb County commissioner and former mayor of Clarkston.

“It’s just the whole ecosystem that has been in place for 40 years completely being disrupted,” he said.

Muzhda Oriakhil, senior community engagement manager at Friends of Refugees, an Atlanta-area nonprofit that helps refugees resettle, said her group and others are scrambling to provide temporary food assistance for refugee families. But charity organizations, food banks, and other nonprofit groups cannot make up for the loss of billions of federal dollars that help families pay for food.

“A lot of families, they may starve,” she said.

Rayasam writes for KFF.

For 24 years, immigrants lacking documentation who graduated from high school in California have received in-state tuition benefits at public colleges and universities under a law that’s given tens of thousands access to higher education that many couldn’t otherwise afford.

When the California Legislature passed Assembly Bill 540 in 2001, it was the second state in the nation — after Texas — to embrace such tuition policies. Bipartisan efforts quickly grew across the country, with more than 20 states adopting similar policies.

But recent court actions by the Trump administration are causing alarm among immigrant students and casting a shadow over the tuition benefit in California, the state with the largest population of people living in the U.S. without legal authorization.

On June 4, the U.S. Department of Justice sued Texas over its tuition statute for immigrants without authorization, alleging it violated a federal law that prevents people who do not have legal status from receiving public benefits. Texas did not defend its law and instead put its support behind the Trump administration, leaving 57,000 undocumented college students in the state in educational limbo after a federal judge blocked the statute.

Last week, the DOJ launched a similar suit in Kentucky, asking a federal judge to strike down a state practice that it says unlawfully gives undocumented immigrants access to in-state college tuition while American citizens from other states pay higher tuition to attend the same schools.

“Under federal law, schools cannot provide benefits to illegal aliens that they do not provide to U.S. citizens,” Atty. Gen. Bondi said of the Texas lawsuit in a statement that signaled a broader fight. “The Justice Department will relentlessly fight to vindicate federal law and ensure that U.S. citizens are not treated like second-class citizens anywhere in the country.”

Is California next?

Legal experts say that it’s not a matter of “if” but when and how the Trump administration will come for California’s law. The White House is already battling the state over liberal policies, including support of transgender students in school sports; sanctuary cities opposing ongoing federal immigration raids; and diversity, equity and inclusion programs in education.

“We are just waiting to see when it’s California’s turn,” said Kevin R. Johnson, the dean of the UC Davis law school, who specializes in immigration. Johnson predicted the White House was going after “lower-hanging fruit” in more conservative states before California, where Trump will face “firm resistance.”

The potential threat has shaken California’s undocumented students.

“If I no longer qualify for lower tuition, I really don’t know what I would do,” said Osmar Enríquez, who graduated last month with an associate’s degree from Santa Rosa Junior College and will enroll at UC Berkeley in August to embark on an undergraduate degree in media studies.

The difference between in-state and out-of-state tuition for people like Enríquez can be thousands of dollars at a community college and tens of thousands at CSU and UC campuses. International students pay out-of-state rates. At Santa Rosa Junior College, the average tuition for two semesters for an in-state student is $621. For an out-of-state student, it’s $5,427.

“What I see the Trump administration doing is trying to exclude us,” said Enríquez, who aspires to one day operate a public relations company. “They don’t want us to get educated or to reach positions of power. And with everything going on now, they are just trying to dehumanize us any way they can.”

More than 80,000 undocumented college students in California

Campus and university-level data on undocumented student populations can be difficult to estimate.

Although universities and colleges keep track of how many students without documentation receive tuition exemptions under AB 540, the data also include citizens who qualify for in-state tuition. These students grew up in the state and graduated from a California high school before their families moved elsewhere.

Numbers are also complicated by changes in the California Dream Act Application, which was established for students lacking documentation to apply for state aid but has expanded to allow students who are citizens and have an undocumented parent.

Out of the University of California system’s nearly 296,000 students, it estimates that between 2,000 and 4,000 are undocumented. Across California State University campuses, there are about 9,500 immigrants without documentation enrolled out of 461,000 total students. The state’s biggest undocumented group, estimated to be 70,000, comprises community college students and recent graduates such as Enríquez.

Born in Mexico and brought by his family to the U.S. when he was a 1-year-old, Enríquez said in-state tuition has made his education monumentally more affordable. At his next stop, UC Berkeley, in-state tuition and fees last year amounted to $16,980. Out-of-state and international students had to pay a total of $54,582.

What students say

Several undocumented students from UCLA, Cal State Los Angeles and other schools declined interviews with The Times or requested to be cited without their names, saying they were fearful of identifying themselves publicly as the federal government undertakes a third week of immigration raids across Southern California.

“I just want to go to school. What is wrong with that?” said an undocumented graduate student at Cal State Los Angeles who received his undergraduate degree at a UC campus. The Latin American studies student asked for his name to be withheld because of concern over immigration enforcement agents targeting him.

“I don’t only want to go a school, I want to go to a public university. I want to contribute to my university. I want to become a professor and teach others and support the state of California,” he said. “Why are we so bent on keeping students from getting an education and giving back?”

Sandra, a Cal State Northridge student who asked to be only identified by her first name, had a similar view. An undocumented immigrant whose parents brought her from Mexico to Los Angeles at age two, she said she would not be in college without the in-state tuition law.

“I was not eligible for DACA, so money is thin,” Sandra said, referencing the Obama-era program that gave work authorization to undocumented immigrants who arrived in the U.S. as children but hasn’t taken new applications since 2021. “We save and we squeeze all we can out of fellowships and scholarships to pay in hopes that we use our education to make a difference and make an income later.”

Legal questions

The Trump administration’s challenge to the tuition rules rest on a 1996 federal law that says people in the U.S. without legal permission should “not be eligible on the basis of residence within a state … for any post-secondary education benefit unless a citizen or national of the United States is eligible for such a benefit … without regard to whether the citizen or national is such a resident.”

“There are questions about exactly what that means,” said Ahilan Arulanantham, co-director of the Center for Immigration Law and Policy at UCLA Law School. “Does that apply to universities that do not use residency as a requirement for the tuition rate but instead use high school graduation in the state?” he said, explaining that state practices differ.

In California, an undocumented immigrant who did not graduate from a high school in the state would typically not qualify for reduced tuition.

The Justice Department has argued in court that giving in-state tuition to immigrants without proper authorization violates the federal law. Some Trump opponents point out that the law does not speak specifically to tuition rates, although courts have interpreted the word “benefit” to include cheaper tuition.

In the recent Texas case, undocumented students, represented by the Mexican American Legal Defense and Education Fund, have filed a motion in court, asking the judge to allow them to argue in support of upholding reduced tuition rates.

The tuition policies have survived other legal challenges.

Before Trump administration intervened, the Texas law appeared to be legally sound after a federal appeals court ruled in 2023 that the University of North Texas could charge out-of-state students more than it charges in-state undocumented immigrants. In that case, the court said the plaintiffs did not make good case that out-of state students were illegally treated differently than noncitizens. But the court suggested there could be other legal challenges to tuition rates for immigrants lacking documentation.

The California law has also withstood challenges. The state Supreme Court upheld its legality in 2010 after out-of-state students sued. The next year, the U.S. Supreme Court refused to hear an appeal of the case.

The California court concluded that undocumented immigrants were not receiving preferential treatment because of their immigration status but because they attended and graduated from California schools. Justices said U.S. citizens who attended and graduated from the state’s schools had the same opportunity.

Still, momentum has built to abolish in-state tuition rates for immigrants without legal documentation.

This year, lawmakers in Florida — which had a rule on the books for more than a decade allowing tuition waivers for undocumented students — eliminated the option. Prior to the federal action against Texas, legislators in the state also tried and failed to follow Florida’s lead. During this year’s legislative sessions, bills were also introduced in Kansas and Minnesota, although they have not passed.