President’s Fiery Post Vows Mass Deportations and Benefit Cuts for Immigrants, Sparking Fears and Fury on Holiday of Gratitude
The golden light of a Florida sunset filtered through the palm fronds of Mar-a-Lago on November 27, 2025, as families across America gathered for Thanksgiving dinners heavy with turkey and tradition, the air thick with the scent of sage dressing and shared stories. But in the opulent dining room of the president’s Palm Beach estate, Donald Trump paused amid the clink of silverware to tap out a message on his phone, one that would cast a long shadow over the holiday’s warmth. Posted to Truth Social at 6:42 p.m., the Thanksgiving proclamation blended gratitude with a seismic policy shift: a permanent pause on all migration from “Third World Countries,” the termination of Biden-era admissions via autopen, and an aggressive push for denaturalization and deportation of non-citizens deemed security risks or burdens on society. “I will permanently pause migration from all Third World Countries to allow for a complete and total recovery of our Country from all of the Illegal Immigration that has taken place, and so much damage has been done,” Trump wrote, his words a clarion call for “reverse migration” that could upend the lives of millions. Coming hours after the fatal shooting of three National Guard troops near the White House—an attack by an Afghan immigrant that claimed Specialist Sarah Beckstrom’s life earlier that day—the post arrived like a thunderclap, stirring a whirlwind of hope for some, heartache for others, and a profound national conversation about belonging in a season meant for thanks.
For immigrants like 42-year-old Marie Jean-Baptiste in Miami, a Haitian TPS holder who fled Port-au-Prince’s gangs in 2011, the message landed like a gut punch amid the holiday’s forced cheer. Jean-Baptiste, who works double shifts at a nail salon to send remittances to her parents and save for her son’s college, felt the ground shift as she read the words on her break, her hands still scented with acetone. “I’ve paid taxes, voted, raised my boy here—what now? Deport us for being from the ‘wrong’ place?” she asked, her voice trembling as she showed the post to a coworker, tears blurring the screen. Haiti’s TPS, extended by Biden in 2024 for 353,000 amid gang violence that killed 4,000, now faces revocation under Trump’s “reverse migration,” a policy that could strip benefits and trigger removals for non-citizens from nations like Venezuela, Somalia, and Haiti. Jean-Baptiste’s family, U.S.-born children included, faces the specter of separation, her son’s high school diploma a fragile shield against the tide. “Thanksgiving’s about thanks—how do I give thanks for this fear?” she wondered, her salon chair empty as she scrolled legal aid sites, the hum of clippers silenced by uncertainty.
The post’s reach, exploding to 20 million views by midnight, wove a tapestry of reactions that mirrored America’s divided heart. In a Toledo diner, where Trump voters like 62-year-old factory worker Jim Hargrove passed phones over coffee, the words sparked nods of approval. “It’s overdue—my neighborhood changed overnight with folks who don’t speak English, don’t follow rules. Trump gets it,” Hargrove said, his fork pausing mid-bite as he quoted the line on “net assets,” the room murmuring agreement from those feeling the pinch of housing shortages and school overcrowding. For Hargrove, whose son lost a job to an under-the-table hire, the policy feels like fairness—a recalibration after years of what he sees as unchecked openness. Online, #AmericaIsBack trended with 2.5 million posts, supporters sharing stories of “forgotten communities” revitalized by enforcement, from rural Ohio towns to Florida retirement enclaves where TPS Haitians had settled.
Trump’s blueprint, a fusion of his first-term bans and second-term enforcement, targets not just undocumented arrivals but legal residents from “Third World Countries,” a phrase critics like Sen. Dick Durbin called “divisive shorthand” in a November 28 floor speech. The “autopen revocations” clause aims to nullify Biden’s 2022-2024 TPS extensions for Haiti, Sudan, and Ukraine, potentially affecting 1.2 million, while denaturalization pushes for revoking citizenship from those with “domestic terrorism” charges or “non-compatible” values—a legal gray area under the Immigration and Nationality Act that could spark ACLU suits. “This is about recovery from damage done—illegal immigration has hurt our Country badly,” Trump wrote, citing a 2025 CBP report of 2.5 million encounters since 2021 as justification for the “major reduction.” Supporters like Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene hailed it as “long-overdue sovereignty,” her X post garnering 1 million likes from those in border states weary of strains on schools and hospitals.
As December dawns, with autopen reviews slated for January 2026, the post’s legacy unfolds in quiet reckonings—families like Jean-Baptiste’s packing “just in case” boxes, supporters like Hargrove toasting “America first” over pie. Trump’s words, raw as Thanksgiving’s honest talk, invite a nation to reflect: Gratitude for the land that welcomes, tempered by the duty to protect those already here. In Miami churches and Minneapolis markets, the holiday’s thanks endure—not in policy’s sweep, but in the hands extended across tables, a reminder that family, chosen or given, is the true feast.