For the roughly 218,000 stateless people living in the United States, the familiar taunt to “go back to your country” carries a bitter irony: they have no country to return to. A gap in U.S. immigration law, written on the assumption that every person belongs to a nation, leaves these individuals in a legal limbo with few remedies.
Karina Ambartsoumian-Clough, co-founder and executive director of United Stateless, knows this reality firsthand. Her family sought asylum when she was eight years old. After their claim was denied, the Soviet Union had dissolved, and the country on her birth certificate no longer existed. Ukraine did not recognize her as a citizen. “There was nowhere for us to return to,” she writes.
Without a passport or recognized nationality, stateless people face daily obstacles. They cannot obtain driver’s licenses or state IDs, which prevents them from legally driving, opening bank accounts, signing leases, or boarding domestic flights. Without Social Security numbers, most jobs are off-limits, even for those with degrees or specialized skills. Professional licenses for teachers, nurses, and contractors are frequently out of reach.
Travel outside the U.S. is perilous; leaving could mean never being allowed back. Routine police encounters can spiral into prolonged detention simply because they lack the paperwork officers expect. Yet many stateless individuals have grown up in the U.S., attended school, earned degrees, bought homes, married, and started families. “This country is our home,” Ambartsoumian-Clough emphasizes.
The U.S. has never signed the two United Nations treaties on statelessness—the 1954 Convention (joined by 99 countries) and the 1961 Convention (joined by 82). As a result, statelessness is not accounted for in immigration law. Most stateless people have filed for asylum, DACA, or Temporary Protected Status; some have work authorization. But those without status remain vulnerable, with some languishing in immigration detention for years because no country will accept them.
The Stateless Protection Act, now before Congress, aims to close this gap. The bill would create a formal process for stateless people to have their status recognized by the U.S. government—something that does not exist today. Once recognized, they would be protected from detention and deportation, issued legal identification and a travel document, and authorized to work. It does not grant automatic citizenship, but it would allow those who have built their lives in the U.S. to finally hold jobs legally and stop living in fear of a knock on the door.
The issue briefly gained national attention during the Supreme Court case on birthright citizenship, when families feared their newborns would become stateless if an executive order had been allowed to proceed. The Court upheld the 14th Amendment, protecting children from growing up without citizenship. Now, advocates argue, Congress can take the next step by passing the Stateless Protection Act.
Ambartsoumian-Clough calls it a chance to “close one of the most glaring gaps in our immigration system” and let stateless people finally have a sense of belonging somewhere. The bill represents a durable solution for a population that has been ignored for too long.
