In the heart of Miami, a city long shaped by waves of Cuban migration, a new protest is brewing—one that’s less about slogans and more about the quiet ache of families separated by borders and bureaucracy. On Sunday, August 24, 2025, near the iconic Versailles restaurant, a group of more than 200 permanent residents and U.S. citizens will gather, dressed in white, to peacefully demand something simple but profound: the removal of family reunification categories from the restrictions of the U.S. 'Travel Ban.'
The movement, spearheaded by the group Residents and Citizens United (Residentes y Ciudadanos Unidos), has been gaining momentum over recent weeks. As reported by Diario de las Américas and journalist Heidy Hidalgo-Gato, the group represents thousands of families whose immigration processes—especially those in categories F1, F2A, F2B, F3, and F4—have been stalled for years, some for more than a decade. Their frustration is palpable. Many have watched birthdays, graduations, and even funerals pass by from afar, unable to bridge the gap caused by a policy that, for them, feels more like a wall than a safeguard.
"We want to respectfully bring attention to a specific request: to remove family categories from the scope of the measure," said Edisleidys Martínez Álvarez, the group’s spokesperson, in an interview with Diario de las Américas. She emphasized that the protest’s aim isn’t to sow discord or chaos, but to channel years of pain and longing into a peaceful, institutional appeal. The group has gone to great lengths to ensure the demonstration remains orderly—participants are instructed to wear white as a symbol of peace, carry clear and respectful signs, maintain a peaceful attitude, and reject any provocation.
The timing of the protest is no accident. It coincides with a scheduled review by the Trump administration of the presidential directive that upholds the 'Travel Ban.' This executive measure, signed by former President Donald Trump, restricts or blocks the entry of nationals from several countries, including Cuba, and has had a particularly harsh impact on Cuban families seeking to reunite in the United States.
Under the ban, a swath of visa categories—B-1 (business), B-2 (tourism), B-1/B-2 (business/tourism), F (students), M (technical studies), and J (cultural exchange)—have been suspended for Cubans. This affects both immigrants and non-immigrants, drastically limiting legal entry options. For those hoping to bring family members to the U.S., the situation is especially dire. While U.S. citizens can still file petitions for spouses, minor children, or parents, permanent residents—green card holders—are left in limbo. Their claims remain suspended, leaving them waiting, often with no end in sight.
The policy’s nuances are complex and, for many, deeply confusing. Exceptions exist: lawful permanent residents, individuals with valid visas issued before June 9, 2025, and visa applicants under family IR (Immediate Relative) categories are not affected by the ban. However, as legal experts caution, even these exceptions offer no ironclad guarantee of entry; the final decision always rests with immigration officials at the port of entry. According to Diario de las Américas, the uncertainty has led many to seek legal counsel, with immigration attorneys advising affected Cubans to check the validity of their visas and, where possible, request formal extensions for pending processes.
But legal remedies can only go so far. The emotional toll is harder to quantify, but it’s visible in the stories of those gathering in Miami. The protest, organizers say, is less about confrontation and more about visibility—about making sure lawmakers and the public understand the human cost of policies often discussed in abstract terms. "The protest seeks to express the frustration of families separated for years and channel the demand for reunification as a fundamental human right through institutional means," reported Diario de las Américas.
For many Cubans, the 'Travel Ban' has meant more than just bureaucratic headaches; it has upended lives. Families that once dreamed of reuniting in the United States now find themselves caught in a web of shifting rules and indefinite waits. The categories most impacted—F1 (unmarried sons and daughters of U.S. citizens), F2A (spouses and minor children of permanent residents), F2B (unmarried adult children of permanent residents), F3 (married sons and daughters of U.S. citizens), and F4 (siblings of U.S. citizens)—represent thousands of people, each with a story of separation and hope deferred.
Legal experts continue to urge affected individuals to seek advice and remain vigilant. As one immigration attorney explained, “Consulates may adopt stricter interpretations of the rule, so having legal advice can be crucial in understanding the available options and how to proceed in each specific case.” Meanwhile, advocacy groups are preparing lawsuits to challenge the suspension of residency procedures and family reunification, hoping that the courts might offer relief where the executive branch has not.
Yet, even as legal battles loom, the focus in Miami remains on peaceful protest and public awareness. The code of conduct for the demonstration is explicit: no provocations, no violence, just a sea of white-clad participants holding signs and, perhaps, holding back tears. The symbolism is intentional—white for peace, clear signs for transparency, and a peaceful attitude as a statement of intent.
In the broader context, the 'Travel Ban' is part of a series of measures that have, over the years, redefined the landscape of U.S. immigration policy. For some policymakers, these restrictions are necessary safeguards, designed to protect national security. For others, they are blunt instruments that inflict unnecessary pain on innocent families. The debate is unlikely to end soon, but for those gathering in Miami, the issue isn’t abstract—it’s deeply personal.
As the protest date approaches, organizers remain hopeful that their message will resonate beyond the streets of Miami. “We are working on the logistics and necessary permits to ensure an orderly and safe demonstration,” Martínez Álvarez noted. Their hope is that by standing together—peacefully, visibly, and with dignity—they can remind the nation that behind every policy are real people, longing for the simple right to be together.
For now, the outcome remains uncertain. The Trump administration’s review of the directive may bring change, or it may not. But for the families waiting, sometimes for over a decade, the protest is more than an event—it’s a lifeline, a chance to be seen and heard in a system that too often feels indifferent to their pain.
As Sunday approaches, Miami’s Cuban community prepares to turn frustration into action, determined to show that, even in the face of policy and politics, the bonds of family—and the hope for reunion—remain unbreakable.