Imagine being forced to leave your home overnight. Perhaps a new regime just classified you as an enemy of the state, or war and disaster left you no choice but to leave. You pack whatever you can carry, holding your family's hand tight, and step across borders, hoping someone on the other side will be there to help.

But what happens when that door to help is no longer there?

In January 2025, the U.S. State Department terminated over 10,000 foreign aid grants and contracts following an executive order signed by President Donald Trump, halting all refugee resettlement and humanitarian aid.

Within days, 10,000 vetted refugees who had already completed initial screening and were approved had their flights canceled. On January 24, Stop Work Orders (SWOs) were sent to local nonprofits, suspending core refugee reception and placement (R&P) operations.

By January 26, the processing of Afghan Special Immigrant Visas (SIVs) for approximately 2,000 Afghan allies, including interpreters, medics, and engineers who long supported U.S. forces, was paused, leaving many stranded in third countries, notably Pakistan, despite holding legal authorization to resettle in safety.

Soon, the Biden-era CHNV humanitarian parole program for Cubans, Haitians, Nicaraguans, and Venezuelans was dismantled, rendering thousands newly undocumented overnight.

In less than a week, the Trump Administration's indefinite suspension of a decades-old "life-saving" system for protection collapsed. Displacing thousands of in-transit families and commitments of caseworkers, attorneys devoted their careers to helping the world's most vulnerable communities.

For years, Ochmaa Gantulga was among the first responders whom refugee families met upon their arrival in Seattle. As a frontline caseworker at the International Rescue Committee (IRC), she greeted families at SeaTac airport with hot meals, assisted with housing, enrolled kids in school, and picked up 10 PM phone calls from clients after years in refugee camps.

"My work has been, and always will be, my ikigai," Ochmaa Gantulga, intake coordinator at the IRC Seattle, said, "This is the purpose of my life."

Among hundreds of Refugee Resettlement Agencies (RRAs), the IRC has been at the frontline of humanitarian aid since its founding in 1933 with the support of Albert Einstein. The Seattle office has been the nation's busiest, resettling around 10,000 refugees annually through a federally mandated 90-day resettlement cycle.

During a three-month cycle, each family from war-torn zones typically receives a one-time grant, often less than $1,650, to cover medical, education, food, rent, and utilities, a setup designed towards self-sufficiency.

But following the January shutdown, the office has remained quiet amid a new wave of mass contract terminations, vanishing these safety nets.

Half of the IRC's Seattle staff were laid off, and case files for pregnant moms, trauma survivors, and unaccompanied minors were left incomplete. Placing primarily women-led households at risk of homelessness, disabling conditions, and barriers to public benefits.

"I remember the moments the cuts were officially made," Gantulga said. "The entire staff was speechless, devastated, heartbroken with concerns for clients and families."

On April 25, the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals narrowed eligibility resettlement review to 12,000 refugees with verifiable travel plans, ordering 160 to be promptly admitted while the rest remain patient for case-by-case review by a court-appointed "special master."

A coalition of organizations, including Church World Service (CWS), the International Refugee Assistance Project (IRAP), HIAS, and Lutheran Community Services Northwest (LCSNW), filed suit in Pacito v. Trump.

In Washington, the state responded with the $20 million Washington Migrants and Asylum-Seeker Support (WA MASS) Project, filling gaps for displaced families excluded from federal aid, often due to pending status.

Since mid-2024, about 50% of WA MASS funds have been allocated to emergency and transitional housing, prioritizing the most vulnerable families and pregnant moms. The rest cover urgent legal navigation and case management to reach self-sufficiency.

"IRC is at the center of this project, standing with 22 other local organizations," Ochmaa said. "We're all working on this project, and I'm glad to see a project like this is bringing hope and light to serve the most vulnerable families and children in Washington."

Still, it's not enough.

According to John Miller, Client Intake Interviewer at the IRC Seattle, the greatest fear among clients today is housing assistance.

"Families who were promised six months of housing assistance are now getting only two months," Miller said, "They don't know how they'll make rent, most of them are already at risk of eviction."

According to Somali Youth and Family Club and Muslim Housing Services, despite housing 134 new arrival families in 2019, the majority were ineligible for emergency local homelessness prevention services due to a lack of eviction records and inability to meet the landlord's strict documentation criteria.

In between systems, these families weren't eligible enough to be qualified as homeless, nor to stay in their homes, placing them in line for eviction when their lease expires.

The former IRC housing team suggests expanding flexible client assistance and offering credit-building and financial literacy workshops to prevent cascading evictions and long-term instability.

According to Building Changes, the Washington Youth & Families Fund awarded each grantee agency $400,000 in system innovation grant funding and $30,000 in flexible client assistance annually, stabilizing high-risk households in Washington state. This proves that small, targeted investments can prevent homelessness and sustain public dollars over time.

But now the question is, who will remain to do this work when the infrastructure is left permanently "out of service"

Globally, humanitarian aid agencies like IRC have been responding to the worst humanitarian crisis, aiding 34.5 million displaced individuals, treating 721,000 children for malnutrition, and enrolling over 1.5 million in schools, responding to disasters in Sudan, Pakistan, and Syria within 72 hours.

However, given the damage done in Washington, the uncertainties over crisis aid resources will remain for years to come.

Lindsay Kim is an administrative officer, caseworker, legislative & research assistant, and freelance student journalist studying at the University of Washington.

Lindsay is a student in Hugo Balta's solutions journalism class. Balta is the Fulcrum's executive editor. The Fulcrum is committed to nurturing the next generation of journalists.