As ICE closes in, Ohio churches line up families to care for Haitian kids left behind

On Friday evening (Aug. 14), Philomene Philostin, a local youth pastor, business owner and nonprofit leader, stood on the street corner outside Springfield, Ohio’s City Hall, crying out in Haitian Creole. Pastor Fontil Daity, a Haitian immigrant who leads a local Pentecostal Haitian church, interpreted in English: “Haitians! Haitians! … We cannot take it anymore. We ask for God in heaven to hear our cries!”

About 75 people gathered around them in the sweltering heat, many holding signs that read, “Love your neighbor” — a reference to the biblical command to love one’s neighbor as oneself. Philostin told RNS she initiated the gathering in response to a new flurry of ICE raids in the city starting the day before. The peaceful protest wove together prayers and testimonies from community members, lawyers and faith leaders. Daity, singing in Haitian Creole, then in English, led attendees in the hymn “Precious Lord Take My Hand.”

For many of the more than 10,000 Haitians in the city of about 58,000, their faith in God — and the support of local immigrants’ rights organizers and faith leaders — is what’s sustaining them as they reckon with the end of Temporary Protected Status. Many of Springfield’s Haitians attend evangelical, Catholic, mainline and Pentecostal churches across the city. And in the months of dread and uncertainty before a federal judge cleared the way on Aug. 4 for the termination of Haiti’s TPS protections, faith leaders and congregations from within and beyond the Haitian community have emerged as pivotal actors in the support networks for affected families.

Now, those networks are adapting in real time to respond to what they see as a human-engineered spiritual, moral and humanitarian crisis, especially as ICE activity stepped up over the weekend. A DHS spokesperson said they would not disclose details of its operations.

Religion & Politics

Photos of the Week: Indonesian earthquakes, Haitian immigrants

Haitian immigrant Monsanto Maler, center, cries and collapses after receiving an ankle monitor at a DHS field office during a mandatory check in, on Aug. 9, 2026, in Blue Ash, Ohio. Many Haitians are fearful of an impending ICE immigration enforcement surge and being returned to their country which is still in the grip of anarchy and dangerous gang violence. (Photo by Carol Guzy)

In Opinion

And finally, Texas barbecue is getting a halal makeover.

At 9 a.m. on a scorching Saturday in June, nearly 100 people were already lined up outside Goldee’s BBQ, a small, wooden-shack restaurant.⁠
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First in line was 30-year-old Thanh Huynh, who sat in a lawn chair on the joint’s rustic porch since 6:30 a.m.⁠
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“I have, like, a whole list, and I’m going to spend lots of money here. It’ll be worth it,” he said, laughing while rattling off a long order of meats and sides from his phone’s Notes app as a sweet, smoky scent from nearby pits hung in the air.⁠
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Opened in 2020 by a group of his friends, the restaurant was named the No. 1 barbecue spot in the state by Texas Monthly a year later, and then won a Bib Gourmand award from the prestigious Michelin Guide, given for “great food at a great value.” ⁠
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The restaurant serves classic Texas barbecue like craft pork belly, sausage and ribs. But it also offers halal brisket, turkey and lamb — meat raised and butchered in accordance with Islamic guidelines.⁠
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At a time when Republican leaders are increasingly targeting the state’s growing Muslim communities, halal barbecue joints like Goldee’s are thriving in Texas. Across the state, Muslim pitmasters are gaining recognition for putting their own spin on one of Texas’ most iconic culinary traditions.⁠

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