Hundreds of South Africans lose US asylum hopes after selling homes, uprooting lives

Pieter and Liesl sold their house, their car, and most of their possessions. They had a conditional approval letter and a departure date in mind. Then, on 24 July, a form rejection arrived with no explanation and no appeal.

Their experience is now shared by hundreds of white South Africans who dismantled their lives in anticipation of resettlement to the United States, only to find the door closed without warning. The rejections began circulating through Facebook and WhatsApp groups in late June, months after Donald Trump’s February 2025 executive order opened a dedicated refugee pathway for Afrikaners. A WhatsApp support group called Hope beyond the Letter had 311 members as of 10 September. The full scale of the rejections remains unknown because US Citizenship and Immigration Services has not released comprehensive data.

The program had moved fast. Sixty-eight white South Africans arrived in May. By late summer, more than 13,000 had reached the US, with admissions accelerating to over 2,600 in August alone. The speed was striking given that the US simultaneously suspended its refugee resettlement program for everyone else fleeing war and persecution around the world.

Then the ineligibility letters arrived. The standardized text was blunt: “We are writing to inform you that, following review, USCIS found your application to be ineligible for continued processing for resettlement to the United States at this time. This cannot be appealed.” No path forward. No explanation attached.

Where reasons did emerge, through Freedom of Information Act requests, they ranged from serious allegations to bureaucratic accidents. A 64-year-old freelance television professional learned his case had initially been recommended for approval. USCIS reversed that decision because his ex-girlfriend, with whom he had applied, carried a marijuana conviction. He had completed his screening in November and received the rejection on 30 June. “I cried like a baby,” he said. “It was something I actually believed was attainable. I believed the hype.”

Pieter’s case exposed a different kind of failure. USCIS had incorrectly recorded his youngest daughter’s nationality as South African, despite her being born in the US and holding American citizenship. The agency also falsely stated she would be left behind if the family relocated as refugees. “We have to start all over again,” Pieter said. Both he and Liesl had family histories tied to farm violence and were managing agricultural land when they applied. The conditional approval had come in November. The rejection arrived eight months later, after the house was already gone.

A third applicant, aged 67, received rejection reasons citing “crime involving moral turpitude” and “commission of acts of torture or extra judicial killing.” He had admitted to shooting at least one black person while working as a security guard in 1995, describing it as self-defense during a mass break-in at an alcohol shop. He said he was investigated and never charged. He also attributed part of his rejection to a language barrier: his interview was conducted in English, not his native Afrikaans.

The Trump administration built the Afrikaner resettlement program around claims of persecution and what Trump has falsely characterized as “white genocide,” drawing on assertions from far-right groups about targeted violence against white farmers. Official crime data shows no evidence that farmers or white South Africans experience crime at higher rates than other groups.

The broader context matters. Afrikaners, descended from Dutch and French settlers, held power during apartheid and maintained wealth and security while the black majority was repressed. More than 30 years after apartheid’s end, unemployment remains starkly unequal: roughly 38 percent of black South Africans are unemployed, compared with 9 percent of white South Africans. Affirmative action policies have created a black middle class and elite, and some white South Africans interpret those policies as racial discrimination directed at them.

A USCIS spokesperson said the department reviews each application individually and notifies those found ineligible due to public safety concerns or criminal histories, with no appeal available. The statement did not address specific cases or explain the gap between initial approvals and subsequent reversals that left applicants in limbo after they had already reorganized their lives around a promise of resettlement.

What remains unresolved is whether USCIS will clarify its criteria, correct documented errors like the one in Pieter’s file, or leave the 311 members of Hope beyond the Letter, and however many others, without any formal recourse.